I’m Such A Hopeless Romantic Omggggg🥹🥹 I Loved Thisssssss!!!
I’m such a hopeless romantic omggggg🥹🥹 I loved thisssssss!!!
saw u write for harry potter i dont know if u do but could you write something about draco malfoy i find very little on tumblr of draco x reader thank youu
when you know, you know
draco malfoy x reader
fluff
a/n: send more request for harry potter characters pls loves
summary: a rare potion reveals Draco the name of the love of his life, and, after seeing his reaction, you are eager to know more about how he's made it (and who it is).
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It was sad being alone this very day, but you told yourself he would be back home as early as he could.
You decided to wander through your house as you waited upon his arrival. The thought of seeing his greeting smile already made you overjoyed as you browsed through your messy room.
Your eyes stumbled upon something. It was utter boredom that gave you the urge to open your memories' trunk. It was yours and his secret trunk, filled of things that you didn’t use nor see ever, but you hold them so dear you weren’t able to let go of.
You opened it and a small wrapped box greeted you. You remembered not seeing that before. But again, it had been a very long time. Curiosity got the best of you, and you proceeded to unwrap it gently.
And there it was. A simple little flask. A piece of glass so ordinary to everyone. Everyone but you, him, and the walls of Hogwarts potion classroom…
“What?!” you blurt.
“I’m telling you, Y/N. Lena from fourth grade has made it!”
“How would a 14-year-old accomplish to make The Curious Hoax? It is known to be nearly impossible.”
Saoirse leans in, a cunning smile blooming in her face. “Exactly,” she whispers in your ear. “Nearly impossible.”
The Curious Hoax. But how?
“Students!” Professor Slughorn cuts your wondering instantly. You and the rest of the students follow his instructions, stepping into the Potions Classroom. “That’s it. Take your books. Careful, Ron!”
Lost in your thoughts, you look around. The room never seems to lose its charm. Cold and old stone walls isolate you from the warm Hogwarts you remember. It is nice, though. You’ve always appreciated the magical spell these shelves filled with all types of jars and potions have on you.
“But how? I mean - you spoke to her, what are the steps?” you ask eagerly. The Curious Hoax had always been your priority goal since you’ve heard of it. It wasn’t only the rareness of the potion that called you to it. The reason of your interest was far more humiliating.
Your friend knows that. “Ah - you are now so interested, huh? Will you tell me why?” Saoirse asks mockingly. “Come on, let’s make a deal.”
“A deal about what?” You turn to the brusque voice next to you.
Him, of course.
“Draco,” you say plainly, disgust running your tongue as you speak.
But he takes no offense. The blonde boy turns to you, pride and sharpness in his piercing stare. “Y/N” You’ve never known if it’s simply the thrill of hearing your name out of his lips that sends your heartbeat to a high, or if it’s the sweetness in the tone he uses that confuses your heart.
That is not the matter to worry about. Now, the only thing that matters is winning him.
“Oh, here they go again with the staring contest. What are you - eleven?” Saoirse asks, rolling her eyes and making Blaise chuckle. Draco turns to the joyful sound in an instant, giving a stern look to his friend.
“You’ve lost,” you taunt with a grin once Draco turns to you.
His eyes kill you with their intensified anger. “Shut up, Potter.”
You bite your lips, trying not to slap him. Or strangle him.
Or poison him.
Your jaw is rigid with anger as you lock your eyes with him. It is a call to challenge. To defiance.To temptation.
“Oh, here they go again,” your friend complains. “Stop that already, Slughorn is talking.” You both ignore Saoirse. “Guys. Draco and Y/N will you please stop that.”
“Let them,” Blaise tells her teasingly. You take a mental note to gossip with Saoirse about the smoldering glace his given her. She’s been head over heels for the boy ever since you two were sorted to slithering six years ago and took a seat next to him. Him and Draco.
“You looked away,” Draco states, sneering. “You. Lose.”
You breathe deep, holding back the slap your body aches to give him. “Shut up, will you.”
“You shut up.”
“No. You shut up, Malfoy.”
“Shut up, the both of you!” Soirse yells. “You act like kids, I swear.” You watch in shock as the whole class turns to her rants. But she doesn’t seem to care as she angrily turns to Draco. “She was just asking about The Curious Hoax, because she’s spent her whole live daydreaming about the love of her life! Now shut up already!” And she stops right there, her eyes wide open, moving to find yours in instant regret as she realizes what she's confessed. “So that is that,” she mumbles, almost inaudibly.
You know you look visibly flushed as your eyes dart around, trying to hide your embarrassment. But acknowledging every set of eyes on you doesn’t help one bit.
But what certainly doesn’t help is the obscurity in Draco’s face. “Ah, well - what an even more pathetic thing you turn to be.”
“Watch your mouth,” your friend barks in your defense.
“What? She can be this stupid, but I can’t comment on it?” he says. There’s still in his face a darkness you can’t quite understand. He is not being mean for mere rudeness. He is truly angry. But why for?
You feel chocked up, your eyes on the verge of tears. No words in your personal defense seem to escape the chains of your throat.
But someone unexpected is there for you. “Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn says in a scolding voice. “What is exactly so pathetic in the will to make such an extraordinary potion? A potion that could reveal the one true love of the maker. Could you explain to the whole class, please?”
Draco is silent, anger with a hint of humiliation in his stupid face.
“No?” the professor asks, monetarily turning to give you a friendly wink. You smile slightly, the pressure of before, now less crushing. “Then I take you appreciate its value all the same as your classmate, Y/N?”
“I-” the boy starts, but is quickly interrupted.
“Very well. Then, I have great news for you.” He turns to the class and adds, “Today, Mr. Malfoy will be the first to try it.”
Said boy swallows audibly. “Try what?” he hurries to ask.
“Why - Making The Curious Hoax, of course,” he says evidently.
“But-”
“Great! First, go take the cherry leafs…”
…
It’s been about ten minutes of Draco following obediently every Slughorn instruction in front of the class. A bit of ‘take this, put this, mix that’ and now, “The final step…” the professor said, happiness irradiating from him as a result of his love for this subject.
You don’t know what surprised you more. How okay, even happy, Draco is with doing this, or that the potion is simple as this. You were told only a few people had succeeded in making it, but there he was Draco, one last step from making it.
You wonder, is he nervous? Excited to know who is the love of his life?
You are. Of course, not for who is his love. Of course. You are nervous to find out yours.
“I must tell you,” Slughorn says to all. “The last step may seem frustrating to the ones who reach with their hand for the top of the mountain, yet happen to be farther than what they had expected.”
You watch Draco sight at the professor’s enigmatic words. The truth is, you had been watching him very carefully. It is not often that he was concentrated enough to not pay attention to your curious eyes set on him. And it is quite an opportunity and relief to be free to watch him from afar with no mean words coming your way.
It is simply a relief to look at him, so lost in his inner world.
“What is the last step, professor Slughorn?” the Weasley boy asks.
“Well,” he replies absentmindedly. “Once the ingredients are mixed, you must write on an ordinary piece of paper the name of the love of your life. Who you think it is. Only the correct answer will lead to the making of the potion.”
Surprised and disappointment fill the classroom and your heart.
“I don’t understand,” you say. “Then the potion makes no sense: You must know the very same thing you want to learn from the potion. If you knew already who the love of your life is, you wouldn’t need the potion in the first place.”
“Exactly.” Slughorn gives you a knowing smile. “The curious Hoax, Ms. Y/N. It is a hoax.”
You look around confused, but stop when you find his eyes on you. Draco immediately looks away, flushed, almost hiding from you.
Could today’s class turn out more odd?
“Then what’s the stupid point in making it?” Blaise asks.
You realize Draco hasn’t said a word in complaint yet, which is shocking. Is he really interested in knowing his true love?
“Well, even being conscious about this last step, many wizards have spent years trying to make it, trying name after name, and the one’s that have made it claim that the potion is worth everything.”
“Professor,” your friend says. “I’ve heard that if you drink the Potion once it changes color, you will see your happiest memory with your love.”
“That I've heard before - yes. But I fear you shall check it for yourselves. Now, everyone around a table! You know the steps.”
“We are all going to try to make The Curious Hoax?” Ron asks in disbelief.
“Yes, of course, Ron, or do you expect to find out by me telling you who she is?” Slughorn asks playfully as he glances visibly to the girl next to Ron. Nor him or the now blushed girl, Hermione, miss that look.
Everyone takes place and starts with the making. You try to keep some distance, but your curiosity makes you pick a spot on the table close to Draco. He seems determined to not look your way.
You don’t give much thought to that. The priority now is succeeding in this. You’ve always wanted to know who the love of your life is. Now you have the answer right in front of you.
The little cauldron is almost entirely filled, every ingredient you’ve meticulously thrown into and mixed have now given their results. But not the ultimate result. The potion must turn blue to indicate it is well. And it will only turn blue if you throw into it the correct name.
Of all the people who could be, how on earth would you be able to guess. You realize soon, it will be impossible to make the potion go blu-
“Look! Draco’s made it! His potion’s turned blue!”
What.
You quickly look up to him. But he’s already staring your way. Eyes wide open in surprise, just like yours. Of course, guessing who his love is must have left him crazy. Making one of the most difficult potions must have left him crazy.
This time, not like the others, his eyes don’t move. Like your staring games, he’s just there., looking at you as if the world around him was no more.
“Very well done, Mr. Malfoy!” Slughorn congratulates. “Great! Great.” He grabs a simple little flask and starts puting the potion inside carefully. “And… here you go. Consider yourself a very lucky boy, Draco. Not many in this world will have the opportunity to visit their happiest memory as you do.” And he hands the flask to the boy.
But his eyes are still on you. And yours are still on him.
Eventually, the whispers of surprise and disbelief of your classmates subside, and you chose to seize the calmness to walk to him.
“How?” you ask Draco. Most of the class had given up on the Potion. You were nearly about to. “How have you done it?”
He’s oddly silent, not even looking at you. He stares at the flask in between his hands. He hadn't drunk it yet. Maybe he didn’t want to.
“Draco,” you call, and it’s almost like pleading. At that, he moves his timid eyes to you. He is acting so weird. Was the truth of the Curious Hoax so heavy on a person?
“I just - I just did it. I wrote a name, and it worked.”
“What? Just one name?” you ask, even more shocked that what you were seconds ago. “How did you - what?”
He sighs, looking down at the flask again, gone into his inner world.
“Draco, please. It is the thing I most want. To know it myself. To make this potion.”
He looks up, finding your eyes with such gentleness it makes your breath caught. “Y/N.” Again, that sweetness in his tone. But now, more genuine, more vulnerable.
“What?” you persisted eagerly. “What is it, then?”
He is silent for some seconds, then he puts his flask in a pocket of his uniform and moves to leave. You swiftly grab his arm before he’s able to.
He says no word as he turns to look at your hand touching his skin. He says nothing as he absentmindedly lifts his hand up to yours, and almost like in a tender caress, traces its knuckles. It’s different from any touch you’ve felt.
Then he closes his fingers over the back of your hand and pulls it gently away. He doesn’t let it go as he takes a step closer to you. He is so close. So close. You watch his dark pupils, realizing you have no need to give a step back. Only an urge to take one closer. But you would be too close.
You feel his warm breath before he closes his mouth, as if he was trying to suppress words trying to get out of his lips.
So you try to push him. “Tell me,” you whisper, and it’s so tender and soft it seems to convenience him.
“Y/N…”
He doesn’t continue, so you plead,” Please. Tell me, Draco.”
“I just knew exactly what to write on that paper.”
“But how?” you question.
His lips curved into a timid smile. Never had you seen him so… you don’t even have words to describe it.
“You just know, Y/N.”
“Draco…” you start, still not satisfied with the ambiguous answer.
“When you know, you know.”
And then he manages to smoothly slip away from you, walking away. But then he stops and turns.
“Y/N?”
“What?” you say, trying to understand his odd behavior. Trying to understand the smile on his face.
“Please, tell me when you know. Don’t keep me waiting for too long.”
Tears run through your cheeks once the memories flow back to that little flask. That day. This flask. Draco.
Draco.
“You’ve found it,” your husband says, and you quickly turn to him.
Draco is at the door of your bedroom, staring at you as if waiting for your reaction. The flask, it was his birthday present to you.
“And here I was, thinking you would never find it there,” he tries to joke, but you clearly see he is nervous.
“Draco…” you whisper, but you are not able to form words. So you run to hug him. He catches you, firm arms wrapping around your waist. “My love, I’m so sorry. I’ve ruined your surprise," you mumble.
“So do you like it, love? And no, you did not ruin anything.”
“Like it?” You move to look at him, making him see in your face how grateful you are. How much you love him. “Draco it’s perfect. You - you’ve kept it all these years.”
He smiles sweetly. “Y/N, that potion. When I drank it - I saw this. You and me, today. I saw myself holding you just like this, watching your beautiful face like you were the only thing in this world. I saw that when I was at a terrible point in my life, and it gave me strength to keep going. Seeing your eyes watching me as if you loved me, it told me life was worth living, it told me great things were to come. You were to come.”
Tears well in your eyes again at his words. “I was already there, remember?” you joke, grinning despite your wet cheeks.
Draco smiles lovingly as he wipes your tears. “I remember, my love. You were always there, and I always knew - somewhere in my heart, I always knew it was you.”
-Chacters by J K Rowling
This is not proofread yet, but i wanted to post itttt. now lets talk: IVE JUST WRITTEN MY FIRT DRACO FIC WHAAAAT. im so happy, and expecting to write more harry potter characters yeees. plsss send more requests for harry potter, speacialy for short fics :) hope you like this one, and the rest to come. loveyaa.
More Posts from Mixedandfurious and Others
smash - draco malfoy
summary: draco malfoy? smash. except you say those words a little too loud. wc: 0.9k+
Immersed in the magazine in front of you, you only caught bits and pieces of the conversation Harry, Hermione and Ron were having around you, the great hall otherwise mostly empty. It wasn’t everyday the three of you had free periods together, but when you did, the conversations were always entertaining.
Especially when Harry started complaining.
You halted your focus on the magazine at the sound of Harry’s sassy and oddly loud voice. It was as though he wanted himself to be heard. Hermione scoffed from in front of the boy and you pulled the corner of your page up slowly, pretending to still be immersed in your reading.
“At this point, Malfoy is just following in his fa-” “Malfoy?” You asked, humming apprehensively, “Smash.”
From the slytherin table, sat right behind you, Draco’s head snapped backwards, his mouth parting in surprise before he forced his features into a confident smirk. Theo, Pansy, Mattheo and Blaise held matching looks at the bombshell you dropped so shamelessly.
A silence overtook your three friends at your comment, jaws slack and faces frozen in shock. “What!?” Harry spluttered. You flicked over to the next page, shrugging your shoulders as you scoffed carelessly. “Yeah, you can complain about him all you want, but that is one attractive man.”
“If you felt so strongly about the matter, you should’ve spoken sooner.”
Your head shot up and you slammed your magazine shut at the familiar voice, your eyes widening in panic. Ron, who sat facing you, grimaced at you softly. Clearing your throat, you spun around on the bench, kicking your legs over its side. Leaning your elbows back on the table cooly, you replied “Why would I have spoken sooner if you weren’t around to hear it?”
Draco grinned and you cocked your head to the side, holding eye contact, challenging him to keep your gaze. It was silent as you stared at each other, apart from Theo’s loud exhale and Mattheo’s chuckle before he turned his attention back to his cup of tea. Finally, Draco gulped thickly, eyes momentarily flickering to look back at his friends.
Humming apprehensively, you stood up, tucking your magazine under your arm and slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Makes sense you’re not a gryffindor,” You started, eyes trained on Draco as he stiffened up. You leaned closer to him, bringing your voice down to a whisper. “Find me when you’re brave enough to do something about it, Malfoy.”
And with a toss of your hair over your shoulder, you strutted out of the great hall, grinning as you heard a clatter of things behind you. Draco rushed to catch up to you, tripping over his feet as he followed you all the way from the great hall to the girls’ bathroom you dragged him into, pushing him against the wall and pressing your lips to his.
Draco groaned, immediately flipping your positions around so he had you cornered between his body and the stone wall, and he separated himself from you momentarily to ask you “What was that you said earlier?” before moving his kisses down your neck and instantly sucking on your skin to leave bruising hickeys that Harry will most definitely question.
“What? Find me when you’re-”
“No, before that.”
“Um, smash?” Draco chuckled against your skin, trailing his kisses back up your neck and towards your lips. “Would you let me take you on a date before that?” You felt your cheeks go hot at the embarrassing whimper that escaped your lips at his question, but nodded your head nonetheless.
Draco pushed himself off you with a satisfied smile, smoothing his uniform down as he stated “Good. Now, I believe you have a lesson.” You gasped deep in your throat at the realisation that he was correct, hearing the halls outside fill with chatter as students were released from their classrooms.
“Sunday. Hogsmeade.” He told you, pushing the door to the bathroom open and walking past the group of girls who were coming into the room, giving him judgemental looks as he passed them. But then they turned to you, and they were immediately gasping at the revelation of you and Draco being together. You giggled nervously, slipping out of the bathroom when they turned to look at each other, the gossip already beginning to spread.
Meanwhile, in the great hall:
Harry’s jaw dropped lower than he believed possible as he watched Draco stumble to reach you. He shook his head “We cannot let that happen.” Hermione scoffed, “Oh yes we can, and we will. I want all the details when they’re done.”
At the sounds of disgust both Harry and Ron expelled from their mouths, Hermione sighed disappointedly. “Right. I forgot you’re not girls.”
“Hey, Granger!” Hermione turned to the voice that had called out her name and she stared back nervously at Pansy Parkinson, who had a surprisingly welcoming smile on her face. “You can come discuss it with us, if you’d like. I’m a girl, and you’d think they are too based on how much they love the drama.” Hermione laughed whole-heartedly as Pansy nodded her head towards the boys around her with a joking roll of her eyes.
“Will that work if we’re getting different sides of the same story?” Hermione questioned, crossing her arms over his chest in mock rivalry. Pansy hummed, standing up and gathering her belongings. “I get his side of the story, you get hers, then we exchange?” Hermione grinned.
“Perfect. But I think she’ll want to join.”
Pansy winked. “Even better, I want all the filthy details.”
taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @boromoony, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies
Omg I love this!
Well You Know Me...
Avenger!Bucky Barnes X Goofy!Villain!Reader
Warnings: Reader being an idiot and a flirt, no mentions of Y/N, Reader is a Female and a demigoddess who loves to cause chaos.
Bucky's feet echo along the darkened hall, it's quiet, too quiet for his liking but he keeps moving, he doesn't know why he agreed to come here, to find you, you weren't really a problem per say but you are still on SHIELDS watch list as a threat and after that Loki issue Bucky wasn't taking no chances with you. Bucky gets to a door, it's large and steel, it's nothing out of the ordinary but he's still not lowering his guard knowing you're around, who knows what you'll do. He pushes open the steel double doors and walks in, it's dark, the only light is coming from a purple light in the desk on the corner, he's tense and looking around, he walks in further and feels around for a switch and turns on the lights when he finds it. He has to give it to you, you really have this little evil lair of yours going, with the purple and black furniture, the over dramatic gargoyle statue over the fireplace. He only stares at it blankly.
"Oh what's this? New meat for me to play with?" Bucky jumps out of his skin and turns around quickly, his gun trained on you, he didn't hear you, at all, you just appeared behind him. You smirk and tilt your head, while nothing but mischief gleams in your eyes. "You must be James?" You step closer. "I would give you my name...but that takes the fun out of my game." Bucky just stares not saying a word, his gun still pointed at you and his guard is still up, he was expecting a fight but you just stared at him like a child with a new toy to torment, you had a plate of pizza in your hand and a soda pop in the other.
"What are you doing?" Bucky asks, his eyes narrowed and weary. You laugh and shake your head "I'm on break duh, Evil people need food to." You bite a slice of pizza and grin at him. "Want some?" You say, outstretching your arm to hand him the plate with a raised brow. "No. i don't want your pizza." He scoffs, a grumpy frown forming on his face. "Okay first off rude, i'm not black death, secondly can you please put your gun away, i'm not gonna bite you....Yet."
Bucky's eyes roll, this was gonna be a long night, a very long night....
Two weeks later... "Hey James!" Again you catch Bucky off guard when he walks into your lair, this time though he has you in a headlock and of course you're grinning like an idiot, "Save these tricks for the bedroom James, you haven't even bought me flowers yet." he scowls and let's go of you "Shut up brat, the only flowers you'll get from me is at your funeral is when i kill you." your jaw goes slack and for a minute it's quiet, before a large grin appears on your lips, "Holy shit, that was hot, i knew you could flirt." Bucky blinks, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, he's only known you for a week and you're already driving him up a wall. "Shut up." Bucky grumbles and pushes past you into your lair. "Where is it?" Bucky asks. "Where's what?" You ask innocently. "The gun, with the green squiggly things, that shoots fire, that gun?"
Bucky demands, and stares at you. "Ohhh...that gun, his name is Blaze, and i don't have it."
You lie, Bucky is unamused, and waits for you to tell him. "You won't intimidate me." Your arms cross over your chest and you smirk, i can't give you Blaze, he's the best thing ever created since ultron" You smirk mischievously and chuckle at the look on Bucky's face, until you cave. "Fine, if i give it, will you protect him? it took me forever to birth him." "I'm not promising anything" Bucky grumbles and holds out his hand as you place the gun in his hand. "I'm going now." Bucky turns on his heels and begins to leave but you call out to him. "You know, you could at least leave your phone number since you're taking my son."
you knew he heard as he left and you can't help but laugh. you knew these encounters wouldn't end anytime soon.
i will post part two soon. let me know if this is good🖤
Logan Howlett (Wolverine) NSFW Alphabet
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Pure Smut, 18+ Minors DNI!
A/N: My first piece of writing on here so I’m gonna keep it basic🤭 Ofc I had to go with everyone’s obsession…WOLVIEEEEE! Lemme know what you guys think! Enjoy my lovelies😏
A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
Mr. Howlett here is a green flag in that he accommodates to his partner’s needs. If you prefer to cuddle after sex, be prepared to stay in Logan’s arms for hours on end. Hungry? Well your man’s already up and grabbing you your favourite snacks and comfort foods.
Let’s not forget the bare minimum where he makes sure to clean you up and remind you how well you did. He reassures you and focuses his entire attention on you because he’s so grateful that he gets to have you to himself (Words of affirmation GALORE!) He may be a hardcore, grouchy man to the world but he’s a total sweetheart for his favourite person🥰
B - Body Part (Fav body part of themselves and their partner)
As much as he struggles with his claws he actually really loves his hands (at least with you). In the beginning of your relationship Logan expressed his hardships with his claws and how he lacks control over them when he gets riled up. This caused him to limit how much he touched you during sex (preferred to eat you out rather than finger you, or grab the headboard when he was about to cum instead of holding onto your hips). But overtime your reassuring words and your trust in him won (plus he couldn’t say no to you begging him to fill you up with his fingers).
Logan is in love with the entirety of your being but if he HAAAAD to choose he’d say that your lips and neck are a heavenly gift. This man is OBSESSED with your lips to a point where he can suck and bite on them for hours on end. He loves making out with you and more importantly, he loves to see those lips wrapped around his cock as you take him in as far as you can. Your neck is a whole other ball game though🫣 You already know this man is like an animal so you can imagine how much he enjoys leaving his scent on you. He makes sure to leave marks on your neck before you leave the house (after all everyone must know you’re taken). He loves to hear the sound of your pulse and how much it speeds up when he scents you. And when he’s reaching the finish line you better believe he’ll bury his face in your neck and growl deeply as he prepares to fill you up with his load.
C - Cum
Simply put, your man cums a lot. And where does he enjoy releasing it? Inside of you of course. Sure he may occasionally release on your chest or in your mouth (maybe even on ur ass cheeks if he’s taking you from behind 👀) but ultimately, he goes feral watching his cum pool out of your pussy.
D - Dirty Secret (Any dirty secret of theirs)
We all know that massages can lead to some filthy moments right? This obviously applies to Logan too. The catch, however, is that sometimes instead of using lotion or oil to massage out the knots in ur back he’ll use his cum instead🫣 Let me paint a picture for you real quick:
You’re lying on your stomach fully naked with Logan straddling you from behind. He begins gliding his calloused hands up and down your back and after 20 minutes or so he finally snaps and begins to massage your ass. At this point he’s hard as a rock and is leaking with precum. Eventually he takes his leaking juices and spreads it on your back to help his hands glide easily. The idea of his cum absorbing into your skin and his scent mixing with yours has him feeling extremely possessive and proud. He usually ends up lifting your hips and having his way with you.
E - Experience (How experienced are they?)
The man’s old af okay🤣 He has EXPERIENCE! Though it is to be noted that he’s very particular about who he sleeps with. He obviously has trust issues and this applies to who he’s willing to share his body with. Yes, he’s animalistic and enjoys having sex often. But he would rather have a lot of sex with a trusting partner than have meaningless sex with a handful of random people that he happens to come across.
Don’t worry love, he knows how to show you a good time and he’s YOUR personal whore🤭
F - Favourite Position
He loves to take you while you’re on all fours but his favourite position is missionary. He loves to watch your reactions as he plays with your body in different ways. Remember how I mentioned that he loves your lips? Well missionary is the best way for him to abuse your lips with his mouth and watch you suck on his fingers while he rocks into you.
You can also find yourself getting fucked against the wall on occasion because he just loves how his body and the wall traps you, leaving you at his mercy.
G - Goofy (How serious are they during sex?)
Logan can get serious at times especially when he fucks you after one of his nightmares or when he’s had a rough day. But for the most part he’s a mix of passionate and a tease. Typically the silliness comes from you when you crack a lighthearted joke which has Logan shaking his head and chuckling before he goes back to devouring you.
Eg.
Logan: Whose pussy is this?
You: Mine…
Logan: …You’re gonna be the death of me bub. Let’s try that again. Whose pussy is this?
H - Hair (How well groomed are they?)
Oh he’s hairy everywhere. I mean EVERYWHERE! He definitely tries to trim his pubes a little bit to make it easier for you when you suck him off. But other than that you gotta take him as he is.
As a side note, Logan doesn’t really care if you shave or not. So don’t even stress about anything with him. The man is obsessed with you regardless.
I - Intimacy (Romantically how are they during sex?)
He is so passionate about you and never takes you for granted. He counts his lucky stars that he gets the privilege to worship your body whenever he wants and his actions during sex are evident of that. Even if he’s having rough, jealous sex with you he makes sure to praise you and give you loving kisses along the way. His life has never been easy and he always struggled with finding trustworthy people in his life. So just know that the fact that you made your way into his heart, he’s going to spend an eternity showing you how special you are to him.
(Just make sure you reassure him as well from time to time)
J - Jerk Off (How often do they masturbate?)
Despite his animalistic urges, he actually has a lot of self control. As much as he loves sex he prefers to cum when you’re with him. So when you’re away for a while he’ll just busy himself with other things until you get back and help him out.
That being said, he’s not opposed to sexting or phone sex so do with that information as you will🤭
K - Kink (What are their kinks?)
This man is obsessed with your breasts. It doesn’t matter how big or small they are, he just wants to have his way with them. He’ll lose his shit if you let him fuck your tits and will cum harder than ever.
Choking is another one of his favourites. He loves to watch you lose yourself to the combination of his dick pounding into you and his hand restricting your air flow. He swears you cum harder this way.
L - Location (Favourite places to have sex)
He’s pretty old school so he prefers to fuck you in your bedroom. But he also enjoys some passionate shower sex (don’t worry about slipping because this man is strong af).
He occasionally loves to fuck you outside when no one is around (he’s the only one who gets to see you like this so don’t worry about anyone catching you).
One time he fucked you on his bike at nighttime while you guys were overlooking the city.
M - Motivation (What turns them on?)
Logan has a high sex drive so many things about you turn him on. But what really does it for him is when you take care of him. You got up early to make him breakfast? He’s going to bend you over the counter and have you shaking while he bites your ear and whispers what a good girl you are for feeding your man. You give him a massage after he comes home from a long, gruelling day? Be prepared to sit on his cock and lose your mind as he fucks into you from below.
N - No (Turns offs/What they wouldn’t do)
He will not allow for any threesomes or for anyone to watch you two have sex. He’s too possessive and believes that sex is an intimate act between the two of you. You’re his and he’s yours, no question about it.
He won’t do anything to severely hurt you. He already inflicts a lot of pain on others when he goes on missions so the last thing he wants to do is hurt the love of his life. The most he’ll do is spank your ass, choke you or pull on your hair. But that’s about it.
O - Oral (Preference in giving/receiving, skill, etc)
Homeboy loves to eat your pussy like it’s his last meal. He can keep his face between your legs for hours if he could! Nothing gets him going more than the scent of your heat and the taste of your sweet juices. Please do him the honour of using his face as a seat. The man will gladly die from lack of oxygen if it means stuffing his face in your warm cunt😌
He also goes crazy for your mouth around his hard cock. He always reiterates how much he loves you and your filthy mouth every time you suck his dick because it’s an honour to have you on his knees for him. You’re giving up breathing for his pleasure? You beautiful human! He’s going to reward you big time when you’re done bringing him down from his high.
P - Pace (fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)
With Logan the pace really depends on the situation. If he’s frustrated and you offer to let him fuck away his worries, he’ll fuck you fast and rough. If he’s jealous and wants to remind you who you belong to, he’ll pound into you until you can’t walk the next day. If he’s feeling overwhelmed with his love for you or is feeling emotional he’ll fuck you deep and slow while he makes eye contact with you. If it’s a slow and quiet morning he’ll rock into you gently while he spoons you from behind.
Q - Quickie (Are they game for quickies? If so, how often?)
As much as he prefers to take his time with you and show you how much he appreciates you, you guys can have moments when you get too busy. Therefore, quickies are a great way for the two of you to have a few moments of closeness during a chaotic day. Don’t worry though because given the right opportunity Logan will make up for lost time and give you the time of your life.
R - Risk (Are they willing to experiment?)
Logan is always open to hearing your fantasies and is willing to try new things with you. But once again he draws the line at sharing you with someone or hurting you badly. At the end of the day he’s still a bit old schooled so he’ll definitely have his boundaries.
S - Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)
This man can last a LONG time! We already know he has regenerative abilities so he’s up and ready to go pretty much immediately after he finishes. That being said, he knows your body very well and will stop once he knows you need to rest. But yeah he can pretty much keep it going for hours.
T - Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them on themselves or their partner?)
The only toy he owns is a cock ring which you insisted he try. He was pleasantly surprised when he realized how hard he could come once he used it. As for you, he occasionally uses handcuffs and vibrators to switch things up a little. He may or may not invest in some vibrating panties for you to try when you go out for dinner or hit up a bar👀
U - Unfair (Do they like to tease?)
It’s like a game for him. He gets off on hearing your frustrated groans and whimpers from overstimulating you for so long. More than anything he loves teasing you throughout the day whether it’s grabbing your hips while he reaches to grab a cup from the cupboard and then walking away, or rubbing your thigh under the table during dinner. You’re his favourite form of entertainment.
Now if YOU tease him just know that he’ll lose his shit and have you seeing stars before you can even think of teasing him any further. Life isn’t fair darlin’🤷🏻♀️
V - Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)
Oh my days this man is L O U D! He doesn’t give a fuck who hears him because he’ll be damned if anything or anyone stops him from enjoying the moment with you. He’s in love with the entirety of your being and he’s gonna make sure you know it, especially when he’s taking you like you’re his last meal. He’ll grunt and groan as your tight, warm walls hug his dick as he reaches deeper inside with every thrust. He growls loudly as you whimper and moan his name while you pull him closer to you with your legs wrapped around his waist.
W - Wild Card (Random headcannon)
Let me bring you in on a little secret. If you happen to have any tattoos or piercings in some scandalous areas, just know that you’re going to be devoured on a whole other level. Nipple piercings? This man will be panting and groaning like a bitch in heat and will make sure you cum just from him playing with them. A tattoo on your hip or sporting a tramp stamp? The back shots and bites on your hips are gonna go crazy. A tattoo leading into your panties? Well, you get the picture 🥵
X - Xray (How do they look underneath their clothes?)
He’s definitely a grower but even flaccid he’s packing😩 I’ll let you decide on the inches but just know that this man is girthy. Do with that information as you will.
Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Mr. Howlett ACHES for you all day, everyday. Now he obviously doesn’t fuck you every second of the day (unless that’s what you want🫣) but he loves your mind and your body so much. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: He doesn’t fuck just anyone. So know that he’s comfortable with you and LOVES you, so he’s going to make up for lost time and ruin anyone else for you (not that you’re ever gonna get with anyone else cuz he’s not letting you go😌). That said, if you’re not in the mood to have sex (regardless of how long), he’s perfectly okay with that. He just wants you to be comfortable and will make sure you only have sex with him when you truly want it. Never feel the need to force anything around him because he only gets off on your pleasure. Green flag energy onlyyyyyyy!
Z - Zzz (how fast they sleep afterwards)
Logan won’t get sleepy right away because he always has a lot of energy during and after sex. He’ll make sure you’re comfortable and taken care of before he settles in and dozes off with you. He’ll typically nuzzle into your chest or your neck and tangle his legs between yours before he drifts off into a comfortable sleep as he listens to your even breaths.
I love how you articulated the complexity of the reader’s feelings towards Logan. I particularly appreciated how the reader did not just fall into Logan’s arms at the expense of their own complicated emotions. You gave both characters space to work through their own battles and even in the end, you perfectly depicted how healing is an ongoing process. This piece was so raw and REAL! Thank you for that!❤️
Empath
logan howlett x fem!mutant reader - angst, some fluff, reader has empath powers, logan is a softie, mutual pining, xavier cameo, no y/n used, no reader description
You have empath powers leading you to get overwhelmed around Logan so you try to avoid him until you realize you can't.
prompt idea from @Silverskyeline from their logan promptober: #5-longing
“Just stop!” Your voice rang out, sharp and desperate as if you could somehow silence the whirlwind inside your mind. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, knuckles white, but it did nothing to hold back the wave of emotion crashing over you.
Xavier’s voice, calm but firm, echoed softly in your head. "You must fight it. Control it. The emotions will consume you if you don’t."
You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over you, but it didn’t ease the storm raging inside. For months now, you had been fighting—struggling to control the empathy that threatened to pull you under. Every emotion, every fleeting thought from the people around you clawed at your mind, but none had hit you like his.
Logan.
You hadn’t expected this when you first walked through the mansion’s doors. Sure, you knew the man was intimidating, with his broad, rugged features and those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to cut through every defense you had. You didn’t know how deeply he carried his pain. You didn’t know it would bury itself in your chest the moment his gaze locked on yours.
The first time you saw him, the world shifted. A fire had sparked under your skin like something about him was too much—too raw, too intense. And then it happened.
His emotions—heavy, bruised, and relentless—flooded your mind, unfiltered and overwhelming. The sheer weight of his misery and anger, the years of grief, regret, and heartache, hit you all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. You had felt your powers spiral out of control, dragging you under. Every wall you’d carefully built around your mind shattered in an instant.
Now, standing in the quiet of the mansion, it was happening again. You could feel him—sense him even though he wasn’t in the room. The memory of his pain clung to you, thick and suffocating, threatening to drown you if you didn’t find a way to shut it out.
“Focus,” Xavier’s voice urged, the gentle command reverberating in your mind. “Feel, but don’t let it overwhelm you. You can control it.”
You tried. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to breathe through the rush of emotions, through the heat rising in your chest. But it wasn’t enough. You could still feel Logan’s anger simmering beneath the surface, his anguish, the weight of the world pressing on him—pressing on you.
A choked sound escaped your throat as you gripped the edge of the desk, your fingers digging into the wood. “I can’t—” you whispered, the words barely audible, thick with frustration.
Xavier’s presence in your mind was steady, unshakable. “You can. You must. Find the source. Recognize it. Let it pass through, not into you.”
How could you? Logan’s presence lingered, as if he was right there, behind you—watching, waiting. You could almost hear the gruff edge of his voice, feel the weight of his stare, the way his emotions cut through your defenses without even trying. How could you separate yourself from something so powerful, so consuming?
Images of Logan flashed through your mind—those haunted eyes, the lines of worry etched into his face, the silent weight he carried with every step. You had never meant to connect so deeply with him. But it was there. The moment you’d let your guard slip, his entire being had flooded your senses, and you hadn’t been able to push him away since.
The room spun around you, the air thick with tension. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you fought to regain control, fought to suppress the storm Logan had stirred up within you. It was like trying to hold back a flood with your bare hands.
Then, there was a knock. The sound reverberated through the room like a lifeline, cutting through the chaos in your mind. You turned sharply, eyes wide, heart pounding in your chest.
The door creaked open, and there he was.
He stood in the doorway, his presence filling the room with the same intensity you had felt from the moment you’d met him. His expression was unreadable, his gaze hard but searching as it locked onto you. Even from across the room, you could feel the weight of him pressing against your mind—the grief, the anger, the quiet torment that lived inside him.
It hit you like a tidal wave again, but this time, you couldn’t hold it back. You gasped, clutching the edge of the desk for support as your knees nearly buckled.
Logan’s brow furrowed, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he stepped forward, the scent of earth and steel following him. “What’s wrong?” His voice was low, rough like gravel, but there was something else there—something softer.
You couldn’t answer. The emotions swirling within him, within you, were too strong, too overwhelming. All the pain, all the years of torment—it was like reliving them through his eyes.
“Focus,” Xavier’s voice broke through, firm and steady. “Don’t lose yourself. Not to this.”
You couldn’t focus. Not with Logan standing so close, his emotions bleeding into yours, his pain threatening to swallow you whole.
Logan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he moved closer, his rough hand reaching for yours. “Hey.” His voice was quieter now, the edge of his frustration replaced with something else. “Look at me.”
You forced yourself to meet his gaze, the world narrowing to just you and him, his hazel eyes burning into yours. For a brief moment, the chaos inside you stilled, as if Logan himself was anchoring you, pulling you back from the brink.
“You’re okay,” Logan murmured, his voice low but certain, that rough edge softened by the weight of his concern. His hand lingered near yours, a tether in the storm. For a split second, it almost felt like you could breathe again like maybe he was right.
But the chaos inside you flared again, pulling you under. You shook your head, getting to your feet and backing away from him, the words catching in your throat. “I can’t—” Your voice trembled, barely a whisper as you tried to pull yourself together. Panic clawed at your chest, the emotions too thick, too heavy. You couldn’t stay there.
Without waiting for Logan’s response, you turned on your heel, stumbling out of Xavier’s office. The door closed behind you with a soft click, but it wasn’t enough to shut out the swirl of emotions still raging inside your mind.
Why? Why, after all this time, did one person—one man—have so much control over you?
You could still feel the echo of Logan’s presence, like a heavy weight pressing against your ribs, his emotions lingering in the air around you. Every time he was near, it was like drowning in his pain, his raw grief and anger consuming you, pushing everything else aside until there was nothing left of you but him.
Your breath came out in ragged bursts as you hurried down the hallway, each step echoing louder than the last. You wiped at your eyes, trying to shake the way Logan’s voice had clung to you, how his gaze had burned through every defense you’d tried to put up.
It wasn’t fair.
You barely knew him yet the moment you’d felt his emotions, it had been like stepping into a fire—intense, all-consuming, impossible to ignore. You hadn’t been the same since.
I have to stay away from him, you thought, quickening your pace. It’s the only way.
Logan wasn’t just any person. His pain, his grief—they were too strong, too heavy for you to handle. You’d spent years trying to control your powers, fighting for some semblance of balance, and then Logan showed up and tore through all of it like it was nothing. He didn’t even have to try. His very presence was enough to unravel you.
You slowed as you reached the garden, the cool air hitting your face like a shock, grounding you just enough to steady your breath. You stood there, gripping the railing, your knuckles white as you tried to compose yourself.
The thought of avoiding him entirely seemed like the only solution. You couldn’t be near him without feeling everything—his loss, his frustration, his anger. It was too much. Too overwhelming. And if you were honest with yourself, it wasn’t just the emotions he stirred up. It was how he made you feel.
There was a flicker of something more—something dangerous—beneath all that pain. Something that tugged at you, pulled you closer, even when every part of you screamed to pull away. It was as though you were drawn to him, even knowing the storm he carried.
But it didn’t matter.
You couldn’t afford to get lost in someone else’s emotions. You had to focus on control, on yourself. The only way to do that was to avoid Logan—no matter what it took.
The mansion was a labyrinth of memories, of people who knew too much, and you didn’t have time to linger. You needed space. Distance. You needed to get as far away from Logan’s pull as possible before you lost yourself completely.
With a deep breath, you turned, determined to put as much distance between you and Logan as you could.
You kept your distance, retreating into yourself as the days blurred together. The mansion, once a place of refuge, now felt like a maze you couldn’t escape—every hallway, every room seemed charged with the lingering presence of Logan. His scent, his voice, even his silences weighed on you, making it harder and harder to breathe.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see him. Quite the opposite. That was the problem.
You avoided him at all costs. If you heard his boots echoing down the hallway, you’d slip into the nearest room, pressing your back against the door until the sound faded. At mealtimes, you sat far from him, your eyes focused anywhere but on the seat he occupied. You even rearranged your training schedule, hoping to avoid crossing paths in the Danger Room. It was exhausting, but it was the only way you knew to protect yourself—from his emotions, from your own.
Logan noticed.
At first, it was small things—his eyes lingering on you when he thought you weren’t looking, the way his brows furrowed in quiet confusion whenever you abruptly left a room. You caught him staring more than once, his expression dark and unreadable, but you never stayed long enough to figure out what he was thinking.
He didn’t chase you, though. Not at first. Logan wasn’t the type to force a confrontation unless he was pushed to it. But you could feel the shift, the tension between you growing thicker with every passing day. Every time you turned away, every time you avoided his gaze, the air seemed to crackle with something unsaid, something unfinished.
And it hurt.
You didn’t want to admit it—not to yourself, not to anyone—but each time you pulled away, it hurt. There was a part of you that longed to be near him, despite the chaos he stirred inside you. A part that craved his presence, even as it terrified you.
But it was safer this way. You couldn’t handle the storm that followed Logan wherever he went. His emotions were too raw, too powerful, and you knew if you let him get any closer, you’d lose yourself in them completely.
Xavier, of course, noticed everything.
He had tried to help, guiding you through your training, and offering advice, but even his calm voice in your mind couldn’t quiet the turmoil. He’d seen the way your eyes darted away from Logan’s, the way you tensed whenever you sensed him nearby.
“You’ve been avoiding Logan,” Xavier said one afternoon, his tone gentle but firm as he spoke to you in his office. His eyes were kind, but you could see the concern behind them. “It’s not a solution, you know.”
You sat across from him, your fingers twisted tightly in your lap, avoiding his gaze. “I just… can’t be around him,” you said softly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Every time I’m near him, I feel everything. His pain, his anger—it’s too much, Professor.”
Xavier’s expression didn’t waver, his hands folded neatly on the desk. “I understand, but pushing him away won’t help you gain control. If anything, it might make things worse.”
You bit your lip, the weight of his words sinking into your chest. He wasn’t wrong. You knew that. But how could you explain that it wasn’t just Logan’s emotions you were afraid of? It was your own. The way your heart raced whenever he was near, the way you felt that magnetic pull to him despite everything. How could you be expected to control your powers when you couldn’t even control the way you felt about him?
“I think… I think it’s best if I leave the mansion,” you said suddenly, the words surprising even you. They hung in the air between you and Xavier, a tangible weight.
His brows furrowed in concern, but he remained calm. “Leave? Do you truly believe that will help you? Or are you running from something else?”
You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “It’s the only way I can keep my distance. I’m not… I’m not strong enough to handle this. Not yet.”
Xavier studied you for a long moment, his gaze steady, but you could feel his hesitation. “If you leave, you may be running from the very thing that will help you grow. You’re stronger than you think.”
You shook your head, standing abruptly, unable to meet his eyes any longer. “I don’t know if I am.”
The moment you left his office, the weight of your decision pressed down on you. Could you really leave the mansion? Could you walk away from everything—everyone—including Logan? The thought gnawed at you, but it felt like the only way to escape the endless pull toward him.
Later that night, you found yourself in the garden again, seeking solace in the quiet. The cool air wrapped around you as you sat on the stone bench, your fingers tracing the worn surface beneath you. Even here, alone under the stars, you couldn’t escape the thought of him.
And that’s when you sensed it—him.
He stood at the edge of the garden, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. His presence washed over you like a wave, the emotions swirling in the air before he even said a word. You could feel his confusion, his frustration—his longing.
He stepped forward, the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he approached. You kept your gaze on the ground, unable to face him, but you felt him sit beside you on the bench, close enough that the warmth of his body cut through the cool night air.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” Logan said, his voice low, rough with the hint of something else—something more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before.
Your heart raced in your chest, but you didn’t look at him. “I had to,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “It’s too much.”
Logan let out a slow breath, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence between you stretched, thick with unspoken words, until finally, Logan spoke again, his voice softer this time. “You think I don’t feel it too?”
You froze, your breath catching in your throat. His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them sinking into your skin. He wasn’t just talking about your powers. He was talking about you. About the pull that existed between the two of you, the connection that scared you more than anything.
“I can’t…” you started, your voice trembling. “I can’t handle it.”
Logan turned his head, his gaze burning into you, even though you still couldn’t meet his eyes. “I never asked you to,” he said quietly, but there was something raw in his voice, something that made your chest ache. “But you’re not the only one trying to figure this out.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, the vulnerability in them cutting through the defenses you had so carefully built. Slowly, you turned your head to look at him, your eyes finally meeting his.
And there it was—the storm in his eyes, the same one you felt every time you were near him. But beneath it was something softer, something that made your heart tighten. Logan wasn’t just frustrated. He wasn’t just angry. He was hurt. He was longing for something too.
For you.
“I don’t know how to be around you without losing myself,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I feel everything when I’m near you.”
Logan’s gaze softened, his expression shifting into something gentler, something you hadn’t seen before. “You’re not gonna lose yourself,” he said, his voice rough but certain. “Not with me. Just focus on my voice.”
The air between you was heavy, charged with the weight of everything you hadn’t said. You could feel it—both the fear and the pull, the undeniable connection that had been there since the moment you met.
For the first time, the thought crept into your mind—maybe it was worth the risk. The pull between you and Logan was undeniable, a tension that lingered in the air every time you were near him. Even now, as that thought took root, fear churned in your chest.
Logan sat beside you, not pushing, just there—steady, grounding, the quiet force of his presence like an anchor in the storm swirling inside you. His silence wasn’t demanding, but it was full. You could feel him waiting, his gaze heavy on you, the heat of it sinking into your skin.
You closed your eyes, turning away from him as the ache in your chest grew sharper. “You carry your grief so strongly,” you whispered, the words barely loud enough to be carried by the night air. The cool breeze brushed against your face, but it did nothing to ease the heat rising inside you, a mix of your own emotions and his. “Even now… even when everything’s still, I can feel it.”
You opened your eyes and looked down at your hands, fingers trembling as they gripped the edge of the bench. “It invades my skin.” Your voice wavered, raw with the weight of the truth you were trying so hard to avoid. “I can usually turn it off—control it—but with you... it’s different.”
Logan’s breath hitched beside you, and though he didn’t say anything, you could feel the shift in him—the tension winding through his body. His emotions pressed against yours, not in words but in the way his presence seemed to swell around you, pulling you closer despite the distance you tried to create. You didn’t need to see his face to know that what you were saying was cutting deep.
For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. The garden felt smaller, the night sky above pulling tighter around you.
Logan’s voice, when it finally came, was low, gravelly—almost a rasp. “I don’t mean to... put that on you.” He shifted slightly beside you, the movement was subtle but full of unspoken frustration, the kind that came from years of living with a weight too heavy for one person to carry alone. “I don’t want to make this harder for you.”
You turned your head slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye. His broad shoulders were hunched, his hands resting on his thighs, the tension in his body barely restrained. His jaw was clenched, the lines of his face etched with the same pain you’d been drowning in ever since you’d met him.
“You don’t have to do anything,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke the truth you’d been avoiding for months. “You just are, Logan. You exist, and I feel it. All of it.”
He looked at you then, his hazel eyes catching yours in a way that made your breath stutter. The intensity of his gaze was like a flame, burning through every wall you’d tried to build. His pain, his anger, his longing—they were all there, swirling in those dark depths, and you couldn’t look away. It was as if he was letting you in, showing you everything he’d been holding back. The grief, the years of loss, the way he’d been carrying you in his thoughts ever since you came into his life.
Beneath it all, there was something else—something that made your pulse quicken and your chest tighten. Longing. Desire.
Logan’s hand twitched as if he wanted to reach out and close the gap between you, but he didn’t. He stayed where he was, watching you, waiting for something—anything—from you.
You swallowed, your throat tight. “It’s too much,” you whispered, barely able to keep the tremor out of your voice. “I can’t handle it.”
Logan’s expression darkened, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to argue, to tell you it wasn’t too much, that you could handle it. But he didn’t. Instead, he shifted again, his hands curling into fists on his knees. The restraint in his posture was palpable, and the weight of it made the air between you thick with tension.
“I’m not askin’ you to take this on,” he said quietly, his voice strained, rough with emotion. “You don’t have to carry what’s mine.”
“But I do,” you shot back, your voice breaking with the frustration and helplessness that had been building inside you for weeks. “I don’t have a choice, Logan. I feel it. Every time I’m near you.”
Logan’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he watched you, and for a moment, you thought he might get up and leave. Yet he stayed, his gaze locked on yours, the intensity in his expression nearly unbearable.
“I don’t want you to go through that,” he muttered, his voice barely above a growl. “Not because of me.”
There it was—the vulnerability he never let anyone see, laid bare before you. The weight of his words sank into your chest, and for a split second, you wanted to reach out to him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That none of this was his fault. The fear that had been gnawing at you for so long kept you rooted in place.
“I can’t,” you whispered, your voice cracking with the weight of the decision you were making. “I can’t do this.”
Logan looked up at you then, his eyes shadowed, a flicker of hurt passing through them. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes—raw, unguarded—said enough. You had made your choice, and it was like a blade between the two of you.
You stood up abruptly, your legs shaking beneath you as you took a step away from the bench. Logan’s eyes followed you, the pain in his gaze unmistakable, but he didn’t try to stop you. He just watched, his hands still curled into tight fists on his knees.
“I need to go,” you murmured, not trusting yourself to look at him again.
Without another word, you turned and walked away, your heart pounding in your chest as you left him sitting there, alone in the garden. The weight of his emotions still clung to you, heavy and suffocating, but you kept moving, forcing yourself to put distance between yourself and the man who had come to mean too much.
As you disappeared into the shadows of the mansion, you could still feel his gaze on your back, the unspoken words between you hanging in the air, thick and unresolved.
Months passed, and the space between you and Logan became a chasm neither of you dared cross. The mansion, though vast, felt smaller with the constant tension that hummed beneath the surface, the unspoken feelings and unresolved emotions hanging in the air like thick fog. You threw yourself into your training, determined to master your powers, to gain control over the chaotic swirl of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you at every turn.
Xavier had been patient, his calm voice a constant guide in your mind, helping you learn to block out the noise—the steady hum of other people’s emotions, their happiness, their pain, all of it—and reclaim your sense of self. It wasn’t easy. Each day felt like a battle, but slowly, the tide was turning. You were getting better. Stronger.
Through it all, you kept your distance from Logan.
It wasn’t hard, at first. He gave you space, honoring the silent agreement between you, and though your chest tightened every time you sensed him nearby, you resisted the urge to look at him. You had learned to anticipate the shift in the air when he was around, a subtle awareness of his presence that you couldn't escape. But you didn’t let it show. You couldn’t.
Logan, for his part, had kept his word. He didn’t force himself into your space. He didn’t approach you with questions and didn’t push for answers. He remained a ghost in the background—silent, watchful, but never overstepping the boundaries you had set.
Still, something in the air had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint it, but you felt it every time he passed by, or when you caught glimpses of him training in the distance. He seemed quieter, more composed, as though the weight he carried had shifted ever so slightly.
One afternoon, as you were walking through the corridors of the mansion, lost in thought, you sensed Logan before you saw him. The air felt heavier, tinged with something familiar yet different. You paused for a moment, heart quickening, your mind bracing for the usual wave of emotions that always came with his presence.
But this time… it was different.
You glanced up, your eyes landing on him as he approached from the other end of the hallway. His gaze caught yours briefly, and for a moment, the world seemed to be still. He looked... calmer, more at ease than you’d seen him in months. The tension that usually clung to him like a second skin was still there, but it was muted like he had found a way to hold it back.
You blinked, your heart beating a little faster as you took him in. There was something different about him, something you couldn’t quite place. You could still feel the undercurrent of his emotions, but they weren’t pressing down on you the way they had before. They were quieter and more controlled.
Logan slowed his pace, his eyes flickering over your face, studying you as if he were searching for something. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could sense the change in him. It was subtle but unmistakable.
He stopped in front of you, the space between you suddenly feeling much smaller than it had in months.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and rough, but there was something softer underneath. The usual edge in his tone was absent.
"Hey," you replied quietly, unsure of what else to say. Your hands fidgeted at your sides, your senses still on high alert, but the overwhelming tidal wave of his emotions you expected never came. It was like a dam had been built between you and the storm that usually surrounded him.
There was a brief silence, thick with unspoken things. Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, and the longer you stood there, the more you realized how different this felt.
“You seem…” you trailed off, searching for the right words. “You seem different.”
Logan’s lips quirked into a half-smile, the kind that barely touched his eyes but softened his expression. He nodded slightly, rubbing the back of his neck—a gesture you recognized from all the times he’d been uncomfortable and vulnerable.
“I’ve been working on it,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. “On myself.”
You blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”
Logan exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he spoke. “After everything… after the way I made you feel, I figured maybe it was time I got my shit together.” He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before returning to you. “I didn’t wanna keep unloading all my baggage on you.”
Your heart squeezed painfully at the raw honesty in his voice. He was always guarded, always hiding behind layers of anger and pain. But now, standing in front of you, he seemed... stripped down. Bare.
“I didn’t know you were...” You swallowed, trying to find the words. “I didn’t know you were doing that for me.”
Logan’s eyes softened, his expression serious. “You didn’t ask for any of this,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t take away what I’ve been through, and I know I can’t stop feeling the shit I feel, but... I’ve been trying to keep it under control. For your sake.”
You stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a blanket. He had been working on himself—not just for him, but for you. So that his emotions wouldn’t overwhelm you. So that you wouldn’t have to carry the weight of his pain.
“You don’t have to do that for me,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice.
Logan’s jaw clenched, but there was no anger there—only resolve. “Yeah, I do. I hurt you, and I don’t wanna do that again.”
Your chest tightened at his words, a mix of emotions flooding through you. The distance you had put between you and Logan had been necessary, but hearing him say that he had been working on himself, not just for his own sake but for yours... it stirred something deep inside you.
For months, you had been avoiding him, terrified of the connection that sparked between you every time you were near him. You realized that maybe things had changed. Maybe he had changed.
Maybe you had to.
“I don’t know if I’m ready,” you whispered, barely able to hold his gaze. “I’m still trying to figure things out.”
Logan nodded, his eyes steady, but not pressing. “I get it. I’m not askin’ you to jump into anything. Just... know I’m working on it. I’m working on me.”
You felt your throat tighten, the vulnerability between you suddenly too much to handle. Without another word, you nodded, offering him a small, grateful smile before stepping away.
As you turned to leave, you felt Logan’s gaze on your back, the same steady presence you had come to know so well. It felt lighter like you didn’t feel the need to run.
The days passed slowly after your conversation with Logan, and though things between you weren’t quite the same, there was a new sense of ease. You’d catch glimpses of him in the hallways or outside in the courtyard, but this time, it didn’t send your heart racing with panic. You didn’t rush to hide.
You could feel the change in him—a calmness that hadn’t been there before. Though the air still hummed with something unspoken between you, it was different now. Less overwhelming. More... manageable.
You’d spent the past few days throwing yourself into training, trying to focus on controlling your powers. The Danger Room became your sanctuary. It was the one place where you could lose yourself completely—where you could practice blocking out the world and hone the control that had been so elusive.
This particular afternoon, the simulated environment was set to a barren desert, the harsh sun beating down on your back as you worked through a series of obstacles. You were panting, sweat dripping down your temples as you ducked behind a boulder, trying to steady your breathing.
You pressed your hands to the ground, feeling the earth beneath you, and closed your eyes, focusing on quieting your mind. Xavier’s voice echoed in your memory: "Feel, but don’t absorb. Let it pass through."
A sudden presence cut through your concentration—strong, familiar. You tensed, your senses sharpening. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His presence was unmistakable.
He stepped into the simulated environment, the door closing behind him with a soft hiss. You opened your eyes and turned, standing as he approached. His boots crunched against the desert sand, the heat radiating off his body as he drew closer.
“Mind if I join?” His voice was low, rough like always, but there was a softness to it—an offer, not a demand.
You hesitated, your heart beating a little faster, but the edge of fear you used to feel around him wasn’t there. You met his gaze, those familiar hazel eyes steady and calm. After a moment, you nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
Logan gave a brief nod in return, stepping up beside you. He didn’t say much—he rarely did—but his presence was enough to shift the air between you. For a moment, neither of you moved, the silence filled only by the distant hum of the Danger Room’s mechanics. Then, Logan spoke again, his voice quieter this time.
“You’ve gotten better.”
You glanced at him, surprised by the compliment. His eyes stayed on the simulated landscape ahead, but you could feel the sincerity in his words.
“Thanks,” you said, your voice softer than you intended. “Still a lot to work on.”
Logan grunted, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We all do.”
There was a pause, the weight of his words lingering between you. You stood side by side for a moment, the desert stretching out before you, the heat pressing down.
Without warning, Logan shifted into a fighting stance. His claws remained retracted, but his body was tense, coiled like a spring, his eyes watching you carefully. “Wanna spar?”
You raised an eyebrow, blinking at him in surprise. “You want to spar with me?”
Logan’s lips curved into a grin, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “What? You afraid?”
You snorted, shaking your head as you stepped into a stance of your own, facing him. “Not even a little.”
Logan’s grin widened slightly, and he gestured for you to come at him. You moved quickly, feinting to the right before striking low, trying to catch him off guard. But Logan was faster, sidestepping your attack with ease. You spun, swinging again, but he blocked, catching your wrist mid-strike. The strength in his grip was firm but controlled.
“You’re still telegraphing your moves,” he murmured, his voice teasing but not unkind.
You narrowed your eyes, pulling back and aiming a quick jab to his side. He deflected it again, but this time you caught the faint look of approval in his eyes.
For several minutes, the two of you moved in sync—an unspoken rhythm building between your strikes and his counters. Logan never fought with full strength, but there was a focus in his movements, a quiet determination. You could feel the way he was holding himself back, not to overwhelm you but to challenge you.
At one point, your foot slipped in the loose sand, and you stumbled. Logan moved quickly, catching you by the arm before you fell, his grip steady as he pulled you upright.
“You alright?” he asked, his voice low, but close—too close.
Your breath caught in your throat as you met his eyes, realizing just how near he was. His hand lingered on your arm, his fingers rough but gentle, and for a moment, the sparring session faded into the background. The air between you thickened, charged with something more than just the adrenaline of the fight. His eyes—those deep, stormy hazel eyes—locked on yours, and you could feel the heat of his body so close to yours.
“I’m fine,” you murmured, though your voice wavered slightly. You swallowed hard, trying to focus, but the pull between you was undeniable.
Logan didn’t let go immediately. His grip loosened slightly, but his thumb brushed lightly against your arm before he pulled back completely, stepping away.
You took a shaky breath, your heart still racing from more than just the sparring. You could feel the energy between you shifting, the air thick with unspoken things.
“I didn’t mean to...” Logan started his voice rough but laced with something softer, something hesitant. He glanced away for a moment, his brow furrowed as if he were searching for the right words. “I’m trying not to overwhelm you.”
You looked at him, feeling your chest tighten. There was something raw in his expression, something vulnerable beneath the gruff exterior he always wore. The man who had once flooded your mind with unbearable emotions was now holding himself back—for you. Trying to give you space, trying to be better.
“I know,” you said quietly, your voice softening as you met his gaze. “I can feel it.”
Logan’s eyes flicked back to yours, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, standing there in the simulated desert, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air. There was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a quiet longing that tugged at your chest, stirring something deep inside.
The moment stretched, neither of you moving, both of you caught in the tension that lingered between you.
The familiar fear crept back in—just enough to remind you of the risks. Of what could happen if you let your guard down. You took a step back, breaking the connection, your heart pounding in your chest.
Logan noticed the shift, his eyes darkening slightly, but he didn’t push. He just gave a small nod, stepping back as well, though his gaze lingered on you.
“I’ll see you around,” he said quietly, his voice rough but sincere.
You nodded, watching as he turned and walked out of the Danger Room, his silhouette disappearing into the hallway.
As the door hissed shut behind him, you stood there, the simulated desert stretching out before you, but all you could feel was the lingering warmth of his presence.
Weeks had passed since that sparring session in the Danger Room, and though the distance between you and Logan had remained, something had shifted. You had felt it in the way your thoughts kept drifting back to him, in the quiet moments when you found yourself wishing he was closer. The intensity you had once tried so hard to avoid had softened, but the pull toward him had only grown stronger.
You were tired of running. Tired of pretending you could keep your feelings locked away. Because the truth was, you wanted him. You wanted Logan—his presence, his strength, his comfort. The way his eyes lingered on you with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The way he held back when you needed space, yet was always there, watching, waiting.
You couldn’t avoid it anymore.
It was late, the mansion quiet as you made your way down the dimly lit halls. Your heart pounded in your chest, each step carrying the weight of what you were about to do. The decision had been building for weeks, but tonight, you couldn’t fight it anymore.
You needed him.
You stopped in front of Logan’s door, your hand hovering over the handle as a rush of uncertainty washed over you. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if everything you had built up in your mind was one-sided? But then, you remembered the way he had looked at you in the Danger Room, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, how he had worked so hard to control himself—for you.
With a deep breath, you knocked softly, your pulse quickening as you waited. A moment later, the door creaked open, and there he was—Logan, standing in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable the moment he saw you.
“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice low and rough like it always was. His eyes searched yours as if he could sense that something was different tonight.
“Hey,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. You hesitated, your fingers twisting nervously at your sides. But you weren’t here to run away this time. “Can I come in?”
Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, but he stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. As you crossed the threshold into his room, the familiar scent of leather and wood filled the air, grounding you and steadying the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest.
He closed the door behind you, the soft click echoing in the quiet space. A single lamp dimly lit the room, casting long shadows across the walls. You stood there momentarily, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, his presence filling the room like a quiet storm.
“What’s goin’ on?” Logan asked, his voice gentle but filled with curiosity. He crossed his arms, leaning slightly against the doorframe as he watched you, waiting.
You took a breath, your heart hammering in your chest. This was it. The moment you’d been avoiding, the feelings you’d kept at bay finally rising to the surface.
“I’m tired of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling just enough for him to notice. “I’m tired of avoiding you. Of pretending I don’t feel this.”
Logan’s eyes darkened, his posture stiffening slightly as your words sank in. He didn’t say anything, but the air between you crackled with tension, thick with the weight of everything unsaid.
“I’ve been pushing you away,” you continued, stepping closer, your voice gaining strength as you spoke. “Because I didn’t know how to deal with it. I didn’t know how to deal with you—with how you make me feel.”
Logan’s gaze flickered, his arms dropping to his sides as he straightened. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he swallowed hard, but he didn’t interrupt. He just waited, letting you speak.
“I can’t do it anymore,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, the vulnerability in your words making your chest tighten. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t care. I... I have feelings for you, Logan.”
For a moment, the silence stretched unbearably between you. The confession hung in the air like a fragile thread, and you held your breath, waiting for his response.
Logan exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. There was something raw in his gaze that mirrored the longing you had been feeling for so long. He took a slow step forward, his presence filling the space between you, and when he spoke, his voice was low and rough, barely more than a whisper. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that.”
The words hit you like a punch to the chest, the intensity of his confession stealing the breath from your lungs. You blinked up at him, your heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.
He took another step closer, his gaze burning into yours, and this time, there was no hesitation in his movements. Slowly, carefully, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek, his touch warm and rough against your skin.
“Logan...” you breathed, your voice trembling as you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down your spine.
Logan’s eyes darkened, his thumb brushing gently along your jaw as he stepped closer, his body inches from yours now. “If you want this... if you want me... I’m here,” he murmured, his voice thick with the weight of his emotions. “But if you’re not ready, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No pressure.”
You swallowed hard, your chest tight with the feelings swirling inside you. “I want you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Logan’s breath hitched, and before you could say another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce and tender kiss, a release of all the pent-up longing that had been building between you for months.
His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you melted into him, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as the world seemed to fall away. The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotion neither of you had been able to express, but it was also careful—Logan holding back just enough, making sure not to overwhelm you.
But it wasn’t long before the rush of emotions became too much.
A wave of heat flooded through you, a tidal wave of longing and desire mixed with Logan’s own intense emotions crashing into you all at once. It was too much. Your powers flared, and you felt a surge of everything—his grief, his pain, his need—pressing into your mind.
You pulled back, gasping for breath, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself. “I—I can’t—” you stammered, your voice shaky as you stepped back, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.
Logan’s eyes widened, his hands dropping to his sides immediately, giving you space. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said softly, his voice calming, reassuring. He reached out but didn’t touch you, his gaze filled with concern. “You’re okay. We can take it slow. Whatever you need.”
You closed your eyes, your hands trembling as you tried to gather your thoughts, but Logan’s voice grounded you and pulled you back from the edge.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he murmured, stepping closer, but still keeping enough distance to let you breathe. “You’re in control. I’m just here.”
You opened your eyes, meeting his steady gaze. The intensity was still there, but it was softer now, more patient. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting.
“I want this,” you whispered, your voice trembling but certain. “I just... need time.”
Logan nodded, his eyes softening as he gave you a small smile. “You’ll get all the time you need, darlin’,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a warmth that made your chest ache. “I’m not in any hurry. I’ve waited this long... I can wait a little longer.”
The tension between you shifted, the moment softening into something quieter, more intimate. You weren’t rushing. You weren’t running. You were just... together. Finally.
The flirting omggg🤭
a taste J.B.
pairing: mob!bucky x f!reader
warnings: hints to smut but no actual smut, minimal drinking
wc: 1.2k
summary: mob!bucky sees you at his club
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bass vibrates through your chest. the club is practically bouncing, music so loud and lights so dim and flashing different colors, you can barely keep up with your friend. you met natasha last year when you went clubbing after losing your job. tonight you’re at a new place; she’d been pestering you to try out a new spot but you were wary with the club being so far from your apartment.
the new york nightlife was exhilarating, but only when you wanted it to be.
your dress is tight as you move your hips in rhythm to the music. the fabric rides up on your thighs, sitting just below your ass, threatening to expose the lace thong natasha convinced you to wear. once the song changes, you turn around and grab her hand, pulling her closer so she can hear you.
“i’m getting another drink, want anything?”
she shakes her head, hips still swaying. she smirks, glancing past you to the man staring at you. clad in a dark suit, his jacket lays open and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone. his eyes are locked on your movements, watching like he could do something, but won’t.
“you’ve got an audience.”
craning your neck, you spot who she’s talking about. you scoff. “yeah, because it’s totally me he’s looking at.” you drop her hand, waving her off and weaving through the crowd. you’d lost sight of the man, but he didn’t lose you.
bucky sits at the bar, glass of unfinished whiskey in his hand while he talks to his right hand man. you appear next to him, seemingly unaware of his presence. when you fail to grab the attention of the bartender, you sigh and plop onto the barstool, arms crossing in slight annoyance.
bucky smirks. “need help with something, peaches?”
startled by the deep voice, you glance up, mouth slightly agape. since when was he sitting there?
he chuckles, the sound sending a shiver down your spine straight to your core. “don’t tell me i’ve left you speechless already.”
you blink away the initial shock. “no, i-” you click your tongue. “i just want a drink.”
“yeah? hit me.” he stands from his seat. he strides beside you, aiming for the hatch.
your brows furrow, “you can’t go back there.”
another smirk. “oh yeah?” he leans down, lips ghosting your left ear. “why not? i own the club, sweets.”
your mouth drops again, the dots beginning to connect. in your perplexed state, bucky walks behind you, making his way behind the bar counter until he’s directly across from you. when you look at him again, you notice he’s shed his suit jacket and as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt, his metal arm glints in the dim lighting. you suck in another breath, realizing who you’re talking to.
“wait… you’re-”
“so what can i get you, hm?”
you blink in shock. “uhm… a dirty shirley, please.”
you see him smirk again, reaching for a bottle and pouring into a shaker. the muscles of his hands flex, and you watch him work expertly. you shake your head, exhaling softly and glancing further to your left, noticing the blonde man bucky was just talking to.
he smiles, seeming a little exhausted but it’s sincere nonetheless. “steve.”
you nod, “you… work together, i’m guessing?”
his eyes shift to bucky then back to you. he nods slowly, so lightly you almost miss it. you turn back to the man making your drink.
“how did you get that?” you’re looking at his metal arm.
he chuckles again, his tone still teasing. he looks at you, the glint in his eyes making your knees buckle. “work.”
you hum. his calloused hand reaches in front of you, placing the freshly made drink right in your eyeline. his hand remains beside it. he’s leaning onto the counter now, hands pushing against the marble.
slowly, you take a small sip, eyes lighting up at the taste. “mm, this is amazing.”
he doesn’t respond, eyes flickering between the way your hand grips the glass and where the fabric of your dress falls just above your chest. his gaze is so intense, you’re afraid you’re going to shatter the glass.
“i haven’t seen you here before.”
you nod, swallowing more of your drink. “my friend has been bugging me to try this place out.” your head shifts towards where natasha still moves on the dancefloor.
bucky quirks a brow. “natasha?”
your eyes shoot up. “you know her?”
“she works for me.”
“oh.” when you turn back to look at her, the blonde-haired man – steve, he’d said his name was – had one hand on her lower waist. he pulls her closer, her back practically against his chest as they dance together. it’s so erotic, you have to look away. “i didn’t know.”
“but you know who i am?” the shuffle of his feet tells you he’s back in his seat beside you. after a beat of silence, cold metal graces your chin, pulling your head up. you’re face to face now.
“i know… of you.”
another beat of silence, the pulse of the club’s music taking over the conversation. his hand drops from your face and you sense his reluctance to do so.
“do you know me?”
his tongue clicks. “heard of ya.” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “heard of how sweet you are, just wanted to see for myself.”
this makes your ears perk up. “natasha?”
he nods. “wouldn’t shut up about your weekends together.” his hand traces down your shoulder and bicep. his touch is new to you, but already you don’t want it to stop. “but you never came by here.”
your lip is caught between your teeth. he’s making you nervous.
“you aren’t scared of me, peaches, right?”
you shake your head a little too eagerly and it brings the smirk back onto his face.
“good.” his hand drags down your arm, dropping off and landing on your waist. the first squeeze to your side has your core pulsing like the music. you faintly smell his cologne, a mix of vanilla and something woodier.
“why ‘good’?” you place your drink on the counter. “you planning on taking me home or something?”
“or something…” he trails off, voice a low whisper, a hum following his last word. “wanna see if you really taste like peaches,” you suck in a gasp, “but i can wait. i’m a patient man.”
“okay.” you close your eyes, the feeling of his hand on your waist is so blissful, you don’t want to leave your spot in the corner of the bar, wanting to stay with the mystery man you just met. “and if i don’t want to wait?”
bucky’s pupils flicker a shade darker, a glint of something else hidden behind them. his eyebrow quirks up again, surprised by your forwardness.
“you can’t leave me stranded then, peaches.” another squeeze to your waist. “if i get you, i keep you.”
goosebumps spread across your arms. he’s so close and his hands are so big that you have to hold back from acting like a cat in heat.
“keep me?”
a deep, breathy chuckle escapes him. “once i get a taste, peaches…” his lips hover just by your ear again, voice sultry. “i won’t let you go.”
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bucky masterlist
I loved this so much🤣🤣
Love drunk Bucky! What about a drunk reader?
Yes, we've seen drunk!Bucky in Pretty Girl. A drunk reader could be fun.
Your Girl
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: You're very vocal about wanting Bucky Barnes.
Word Count: Over 1.7k
Warnings: Drunk reader with no filter, drunk confession, dirty talk, humor, slight feels, talk of consent and communication, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Hope you lovelies enjoy. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
“Raw. Next question.”
You sipped your drink, the room going eerily silent. It was the quietest it had been since everyone gathered in the lounge for some drinks hours ago. Pairs of eyes stared at you with a mix of fascination and shock as your words hung in the air.
Just moments ago, Clint had been going through his phone and showing everyone candid photos he managed to snap of everyone. Most of them were hilarious, but the most recent one wasn't hilarious at all. It was clearly hot based on your reaction.
“What did she say?” Steve whispered to break the silence.
“You heard what she said. Everyone heard it,” Sam whispered back, giving you a quizzical stare. “How many drinks have you had?”
You held up a finger followed by another couple. “Like this many. And water. Hydration is so important.”
“Hold on. Back to what you said a second ago.” Clint turned the phone toward him with a raised brow and slowly turned it back toward you so you could see it again. “You know that’s a picture of Barnes, right? Not some model or actor?” he asked.
Bucky Barnes, the beefy super soldier who was trying not to shatter the bottle in his metal hand as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. Clint managed to snap a photo of him when he removed his shirt after a recent workout, which begged the question of why he was taking the photo to begin with. Bucky wasn’t looking at the camera since his eyes were shut, but his parted mouth, slightly messy hair, and sweat shining off his torso made him look like a thirst trap. The sweatpants only made the picture that much hotter.
“Yeah, I know. He’s hot. We all know he’s hot,” you shrugged. “And I said what I said.”
Bucky audibly exhaled. You had a penchant for being very honest with the team which they appreciated. If someone asked for your opinion or thoughts on something you didn’t hide how you felt. You were careful not to be cruel if you disagreed with anyone, but you still led with honesty. Alcohol didn’t change that.
So, if you said you thought Bucky was hot and you wanted him to fuck you raw, you meant it.
Clint exchanged a quick glance with Natasha before the redhead nodded to the spot beside you. The spy looked like she was having a hard time not smiling. “And you know he’s sitting next to you, right?” she asked.
You downed the rest of your drink and shrugged again. “Yeah, I know. And I’d let him fuck me raw. Every day. Twice on Sundays,” you said unapologetically as Steve coughed. You swung your head toward Bucky with a sultry smile and leaned in a little closer. He smelled your perfume before you sat down tonight, but now the sweet smell combined with your natural scent was making him dizzy. “You’d fuck me raw, right? Maybe fuck me from behind so you can get nice and deep.”
The bottle shattered which only made you smile more. Bucky’s nostrils flared and everyone backed up a few inches, except for you, the newest member of the team. The person who loved to leave little treats and snacks for him to make sure he ate throughout the day. The same person who made a show of bending over and stretching in front of him whenever you two worked out together. The only one who seemed to get a real smile out of him since you showed up like a shining beacon of happiness and sass.
And now you were telling him you want him to fuck you. Raw. He thought about it, of course- how wet and snug you’d feel around his bare cock, how you’d take him like a good girl. He pictured you sobbing his name and squirming as he pinned you down and brought you over the edge again and again. Licking his lips, he imagined the taste of your arousal on his tongue and wondered if he could make you squirt. He sure as hell wanted to try.
Bucky heard Thor’s footsteps, but didn’t take his eyes off you as the God of Thunder took a seat. “Clearly, I’ve missed something.”
“I said I want Bucky to fuck me raw,” you said without missing a beat.
Bucky bit back a groan. He was two seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder like a caveman and taking you away from everyone. There were so many filthy things he wanted to say and do to you…
And your bluntness didn’t seem to bother the blonde. “I thought you two were already having relations. With how close you two-”
“I’m sorry. Did you just say ‘relations’?” Clint asked. “Relations.”
“Is that not what they’re discussing?” Thor asked, taking a sip from his flask. “Though if there is no protection there is the risk of procreating, but they would have beautiful offspring.”
You leaned in a bit closer, but Bucky gripped your arms to move you away from his spot. “I don't want the glass to cut you.”
“You're so thoughtful. And amazing,” you smiled. He adored your smile. “And if a breeding kink is what you’re into, actually breeding me or not, I’m all for it. I’m wet just thinking about it.”
Thor laughed and held up his flask. “That’s the spirit.”
Bucky’s cock twitched in his pants. “I know you’re wet. I can smell it,” he all but growled. He inhaled so deeply he could actually taste it, and he wanted more. And if he could smell it, Steve could smell it.
“Okay then.” Clint removed his hearing aid. “I think I’m done.”
Steve jumped up when his best friend glared at him. “I think I’m done, too,” he said, not wanting to face Bucky’s wrath even though it wasn’t his fault he also had heightened senses.
“Let’s go, boys. I think these two should talk without us,” Natasha suggested, hauling Sam up by the arm and giving both of you a wink. “Be good, okay?”
“No promises,” you replied in a sing-song voice.
“Shouldn’t they get a room? I’m just saying,” Sam said as Natasha dragged him away.
“Breed her well, Barnes. Make us proud!” Thor shouted. Steve hauled him from the room, too, with Clint hot on their tail.
“Alone at last,” you giggled. If you were at all embarrassed, it didn’t show. And now that the two of you were alone, the tension skyrocketed. “You know, this isn't how I pictured saying any of this, but here we are.”
“Here we are,” he said. He couldn't believe you wanted him, but you did.
“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable or weird. I’d never want that.”
“That’s the last thing I feel,” he exhaled, still gripping your arms when you finally moved into his lap and straddled him.
“Good,” you smiled, leaning in for a kiss.
As much as he wanted to feel your lips against his, he stopped you. And as much as he wanted to tear your leggings away and have you then and there, but he couldn’t. “I’m not fucking you. Not tonight.”
The playfulness slipped from your eyes. So did the smile from your face. “Oh. I thought…” you breathed, looking away and quickly blinking. God, he hoped there weren’t tears in your eyes. “You don’t actually want me, do you?”
Bucky hadn’t meant for his words or stopping the kiss to come across as rejection, but that was exactly what happened. “That’s not–”
“Oh, my God. I ruined everything, didn't I? Why did I open my mouth?” You sniffled and tried to move away, but he wouldn't let you. “Six months of friendship and crushing on you and I-”
“Hey. You didn't ruin a thing.” Bucky gripped your chin with tenderness he didn’t think he was capable of anymore, and his heart broke when he saw the tears swimming in your beautiful eyes. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone in my life,” he admitted, brushing a tear away that fell. “But you’ve been drinking, and that means you can’t fully consent, and I will not take advantage of you, no matter how you say you want me or this. I respect and care for you too much for that.”
HYDRA took consent away from Bucky for a long time, and it was one of the worst feelings in the world. He’d hate himself for doing anything with you without your full consent. He wouldn’t be the kind of man who did that. The man you deserved would be the one who properly took care of you in and out of bed.
And he’d be the best man for you if you let him.
“So, you do want me?” you asked, your voice uncertain.
“I did say more than anyone else, and I meant it,” he replied. You had to believe him. “But our first time should happen when you're sober.”
However you wanted your first time to be, he'd make it happen. He'd make love to you or fuck you or both. As long as there was clear consent and communication, he’d give you everything you needed and more, and he knew you'd do the same for him.
The smile you gave him repaired the cracks in his heart. “You’re a good guy, Bucky,” you said, snuggling against him. “And it isn’t just sex I want, but, well, I do want to have sex with you.”
“You’re adorable,” he chuckled and rested his chin on your head. “And I know. It isn't just sex I want either.”
Bucky wanted to take you to bed, but he also wanted to take you out on dates. He wanted to make you laugh and smile, wipe your tears and comfort you when you cried, and be the one you confided in. He wanted to be your man, and he wanted you to be his best girl.
“I wanna be yours,” you sighed as if you read his mind, his heart skipping a beat. “Can I be your girl?”
“Yeah.” He closed his eyes when he kissed the top of your head. “You can be my girl.”
And tomorrow once you were sober, he’d officially ask you to be his girl.
Happy Moanday, lovelies! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝
𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 | 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Y/N wanders alone, only to be suddenly cornered by Tom Riddle. Attempting to intimidate her, Tom’s dark presence looms, but Y/N meets his intensity with unexpected ease giggling and teasing him instead of fear. She acknowledges the monster within him but reveals she’s never turned away.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Thought about this while on masktok lol...
𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws
The corridor was quiet, the air thick with a stormy kind of tension. A flicker of magic pulsed through the castle walls, and Y/N walked leisurely, humming faintly under her breath.
She turned a corner and nearly yelped when a hand grabbed her wrist.
In one swift move, she was spun and pressed against the cold stone, her back to the wall and Tom Riddle looming over her like a shadow made flesh.
His hand braced beside her head, his body angled just close enough to be overwhelming. His eyes sharp, unreadable, dark with something unspoken searched hers.
“What are you doing out here alone?” he asked, his voice low, catching her in the corridor’s quiet stretch.
“Just wandering,” she replied softly, fingers trailing along the stone wall. “Clears my head.”
His eyes narrowed, tone sharper now. “You should be more careful.”
“I have you,” she said innocently. “Aren’t you the scariest thing in this castle?”
His jaw ticked slightly. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting.
“You think this is a game?” he said lowly, his voice edged with steel as he leaned in, shadow swallowing the space between them. “Look at me, Y/N. You forget what I am.”
She blinked up at him, lips quirking.
Then she giggled.
Actually giggled.
“I think,” Y/N said, voice like silk, “you try to hide how much of a monster you really are… but you forget—” she leaned in, her breath brushing his lips, “I never looked away.”
He looked at her then not like a predator, not like the calculating boy most feared but with something wild and reverent in his eyes. Like she was something fleeting. Something precious.
That look always gave her butterflies.
“You can’t scare me,” she whispered, reaching up and gently smoothing a wrinkle in his collar.
Then, just as he tried to recover from that look in her eyes, she leaned forward on tiptoe, pecked him quickly on the lips, and smiled.
“Good try, love,” she whispered.
And then cool as anything she slipped from between him and the wall and strolled off down the corridor, hips swaying.
Tom stood there, stunned and blinking.
And blushing.
He touched his lips absently, eyes fixed on her retreating form like she might disappear if he looked away.
His love.
His undoing.
And Merlin help him—his entire world.
── .✦ DAY FIVE | [02/18] : TOM. ♡ ₊˚⊹
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![── .✦ DAY FIVE | [02/18] : TOM. ♡ ₊˚⊹](https://64.media.tumblr.com/b224b227c08ad696549c0c72a37064a2/f426d186cc8a4637-24/s500x750/b005618826425dc1fe18024c0ee455268da28c02.jpg)
prythian's princess presents... day five of the valentine special ⋆.˚ .ᐟ this one is dedicated to my love, my darling, my angel @writingsbychlo who wholeheartedly understands my need to be stalked and chased through the woods by tommy.
[stalking] — unwanted and/or repeated surveillance or contact by an individual toward another person.
[voyeurism] — the practice of obtaining sexual gratification from observing others while they are naked or engaged in sexual activity.
home ✦ special ✦ more
![── .✦ DAY FIVE | [02/18] : TOM. ♡ ₊˚⊹](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6eef74d3c5807ec2f05aaa11ac869683/f426d186cc8a4637-28/s500x750/71562f564314dd5a002a20b3309e6958a7452d4f.gif)
tom riddle knew that what he was doing was wrong.
the problem was that he simply did not care.
he wasn't weighed down by silly notions of morals and virtues. while most people subscribed to the archaic notion of good and evil, tom was more realistic. in truth, the choices and actions one made were very rarely so black and white. often, they fell somewhere between right and wrong; a morally grey area in which tom chose to operate.
all his life, he toed the proverbial line, testing the boundaries of ethics. most of the time, the acts he committed were neither completely right or completely wrong, which allowed for plausible deniability. this time though, even tom couldn't deny his own immorality. stalking you was undeniably and irrevocably wrong, but he simply did not care.
the black lake lapped against the shore as he took cover behind a tree. from his hiding place, tom had a clear view of you walking down to the edge of the pier, looking behind you every now and then to ensure that you were alone. you weren’t. though you were completely unaware of his presence, tom accompanied you for every one of your nightly swims.
as always, you toed your shoes off and stripped off your shirt and skirt. most nights, you wore a skimpy bikini, but sometimes you skipped it altogether and swam in your bra and panties instead. tonight, tom peered out from the cover of darkness as you unhooked your bra and slipped your panties off. the moonlight glistened against your skin, tracing your curves and edges in a way that tom would kill to be able to do. he drank in your ethereal expression, head tilted up to the skies as the night cascaded down your long, elegant neck, between the valley of your breasts where your nipples stiffened against the cold air, trailing down to your supple ass and succulent thighs.
the goddess of beauty herself had nothing on you, tom thought. the very image of your naked body would be burned into his memory like a brand. this would be what he thought about when he got himself off later, imagining that it was your delicate hand wrapped around his cock. tom felt the front of his pants tighten at the thought, groaning at the stiffness of his erection.
the noise drew your attention and you looked over your shoulder, scanning the beach warily. for a second, tom could have sworn that your gaze snagged on his hiding spot, almost as if you sensed his presence. watching, waiting, wanting.
tom had always been careful, but something about the way you bit your lip in anticipation made him consider throwing caution to the wind. he lurked in waiting, the tension weighing heavy as you turned around to fully face the shore.
“I know you’re there, tom.” the soft breeze carried the cadence of your lovely voice, its call like a siren song in his hears.
all these months, tom thought that he had been careful. he purposely watched from a distance, following you only when there was no one else present, sneaking into your dorm and installing cameras while you were in class. outside of these clandestine meetings, tom never even acknowledged you. he was so certain that you were none the wiser to his obsession, but clearly he had been wrong in his assumptions.
“don’t be shy,” you rasped as your lips curved up into a devious smile. “i’m not mad. in fact, i've grown rather fond of our little rendezvous. though it does seem unfair that you get to see all of me while I never see you.”
tom stepped out of the darkness, his brow furrowed in confusion. “you knew?” he questioned, racking his brain for any indication of your knowledge. “how long have you been aware?”
“a while,” you said nonchalantly. “I felt…your presence. watching me. following me. stalking me.”
“why haven’t you said anything?”
“because,” you drawled, pretty doe eyes tracking his movements as he came closer and closer. “it’s thrilling. knowing that you’re out there, tracking my every move like you’re a predator and i’m your prey. it makes me feel special. it makes me feel wanted.”
“but most importantly,” tom paused in his tracks as you pressed your naked body against him, delicate hands traveling under his robe to slide down his chest. “it makes me fucking horny.”
his breath hitched at the fucked up confession, pupils blown out as you palmed his erection. “i’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual.”
tom groaned, melting under your touch. he felt like he was in a dream that he never wanted to wake from. “you have no fucking idea, doll.”
you grinned as you slid off his robe, letting it pool by his feet while your deft fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. “why don’t you show me, tommy?” he watched with a dazed expression as you waded into the water, the waves lapping around your legs while you smirked. “well? aren’t you coming in?”
tom shed his clothes in mere seconds and followed after you. he remained silent as you threaded water, leading him to a small alcove hidden from the rest of the beach. a small smile tugged at your lips from how eager he was, standing before you with lust filled eyes. you ran your hands down his body, nails raking against his solid chest, his bulging biceps, and his perfectly toned abs.
“we’re all alone now,” you whispered seductively. “the poor little dove finds herself in the jaws of a snake. tell me, tommy, do you plan on swallowing me whole?”
tom growled as he grabbed your chin, his fingers digging into your skin as his mouth crashed against yours. the heat of his kiss was punishing, taking you under as you lost yourself in the feel of him. you moaned when his tongue pushed past the seam of your lips, devouring and consuming you from the inside out.
your stiffened peaks pressed against his tanned chest, sending shivers down your spine as he backed you into the rocky wall of the alcove. tom’s lips never left yours as he lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hard cock pressed against your stomach. precum smeared against his abs as he throbbed in your hands, so thick and veiny as you pumped him between kisses.
tom pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his waves matted across his forehead as one errant curl defied the rest of his hair and swooped down over his eyes. he looked so delicious that you just couldn’t help yourself. without warning, you positioned him over your entrance and sank down onto his cock with a moan.
“fuck,” tom growled. “oh fuck, doll, you’re so fucking tight.”
“please, tommy,” you pleaded, nails raking across his back as you grinded against him. “I need you to fuck me.”
the air left your lungs when tom growled against your neck. the two of you watched his cock slide inside of you, pulling it out to the tip just to slam it all back inside again. the way he fucked was so feral, so animalistic, that you were sure you were ruined for any other man. tom didn’t hold back, he didn’t hesitate as he fucked you until your back arched and your thighs trembled.
“yes, god, split me apart with your cock,” you screamed as you dug your nails into his back. “you feel so fucking good.”
“yeah? you like when your stalker fucks you, doll?” tom said with a dark chuckle. “you’re so fucking wet for me, so turned on for all the fucked up things i’ve done. the fucked up things I will do. you’re just a whore for this cock, aren’t you?”
“fuck yes,” you screamed in pleasure. “i’m a whore for you, tommy.”
tom grunted as he came into his hands, his sticky cum covering his fingers as his body slumped against the tree. in the middle of the black lake, you continued swimming laps under the inky black sky, unaware of the filthy fantasy that tom had just gotten himself off to. he cleaned himself off, pulling up his trousers and tucking his shirt back into place while you were none the wiser.
for now, this secret of him would remain safe, but tom knew it wouldn’t last much longer. one day, the desire would grow too strong for him to fight. one day, he would succumb to all his dark urges and impulses.
one day, tom would come for you.
Omg the longing and lifetimes of finding your lover only to lose them over and over again😭 You captured it all so beautifully and really had me in my feels the whole time!!! I loved this!
Til The Sun Turns Black
SYNOPSIS: Your soul is bound to his and you're destined to follow him across the multiverse. When the TVA finds you and sends you to the Void, you feel your chance of finding him has slipped through your fingers. But what you find there is more than you bargained for.
PAIRING: Worst!Wolverine x fem!reader
WC: 13.1 k I apologize for nothing
WARNINGS: smut 18+, mdni, mentions of drinking, angst, peril, some fluff, implied age gap (I guess?), mental trauma, miscommunication, Wade being Wade, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, cowgirl, missionary, cock warming, sex with feelings, unprotected p in v
A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on Soft Edges! I was not expecting that kind of response when I posted that story, so thank you <3. I had the idea for this story in my head since after I first saw the movie. I had no idea my one random runaway thought would turn into this. Also, this story would not have been finished if it weren't for @joelsgoldrush. She let me tease her for WEEKS with this and act as the ultimate sounding board. And she's overall just a delightful human being and I'm so glad I've found her.
The TVA agent sits staring at you, an odd and uncomfortable smile on his face. Like he isn’t quite sure he knows how to smile but had seen it once on TV. You also don’t think he’s blinked in the past several minutes. It makes your eyes water just thinking about it.
“I don’t understand why I’m here.”
“Ah, yes, well—“ the agent clears his throat and smoothes a hand down his chest. “You’re a threat to the multiverse.”
You squint your eyes at him and wonder if you’re lucid dreaming. Or trapped in some bizarre fever dream, but you can’t remember being sick. “The…multiverse? As in, more than one universe?”
He nods once. “Precisely.”
It’s your turn to stare as absolutely none of this is making sense. The morning had started off normal—wake up, shower, coffee at your favorite local corner store. You had barely finished your latte when you were apprehended and taken to this bland room by a man who must own insane stock in eyedrops.
“You see, we’ve been watching you for quite some time,” he continues, oblivious of your growing confusion. “A handful of reincarnations, actually. And we believe we’ve finally pinned it down.”
His words sound insane.
You were a low level mutant at best. You’ve been able to deeply sense and influence emotions in others since you were six—a standard empath if there ever was one. But reincarnation?
“Reincarnations? I’m sorry but—”
You feel it coming then, that all too familiar prickle of deja vu creeping up your spine and setting deep in your brain. The room begins to soften, the corners blurring and you feel disjointed, separate from the you sitting in the chair.
“Ah, see. We’ve pinned it down.”
The world tilts on its axis and your mind explodes into brilliance, the memories of hundreds of alternate versions of yourself firing down your synapses, leaving you as raw and exposed as a fresh wound. The pain is all consuming as you gasp for air and desperately try to quell the throbbing in your skull.
Your hands grip the edge of the table, desperate to clutch at something solid to root you in reality as the kaleidoscope of memories swirl before your eyes, colliding and merging with one another. All the timelines converging down to a single point of existence within your mind. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve experienced this process, the return of your memories—the return of your consciousness—was always accompanied by a torturous sensory overload.
“You see? You have extensive knowledge of the multiverse. And that kind of knowledge is coveted and dangerous.”
Your vision blurs as the memories keep slamming into you and you can’t help the primal scream that rips from your lungs, the pain in your throat a welcome distraction from the torture in your head. And then, amid the chaos, a single figure emerges in crisp focus, a face you’ve seen thousands of times.
“Logan.” His name comes out in a whisper, your voice trembling.
You know he’s not actually in front of you and instead a mirage, a figment of your overloaded neurons, but his presence calms you.
“Yes, Logan. You two are quite fond of each other.” The agent stands and you squint up at him, wanting to be anywhere else as you regain your memories. “But never mind him. We can’t have you traipsing around with all that knowledge in your head.”
“No, no, no, please. Please just let me find him,” you beg, hating the desperation laced in your voice.
The last thing you see before being sent out of existence is his creepy, uncanny smile.
+++
The Void was bullshit.
It had been a month since you were unceremoniously dumped here.
Maybe.
You weren’t really sure.
Time had no meaning, each day seeming to stretch on for eons and simultaneously in the blink of an eye. And for every single one of those moments you’d been focused on one of two things: finding a way out and not dying.
You quickly learned you had a better chance at survival if you stuck to the outskirts and avoided others. So you squirreled yourself away, sheltering in an abandoned cabin and hoping beyond hope you could figure out a way out of the desolate cesspool you found yourself in.
Figure out a way back to him.
Back home.
+++
You don’t venture out unless you have to.
The Void is full of phantom emotions left behind by its previous inhabitants and the cacophony overwhelms you. Rage, terror and despair so thickly envelope every surface you feel like you’re choking. It’s beginning to wear so harshly on your nerves you wonder if you might actually go insane here.
There was a tension growing in the Void. You’d heard whispers of unrest within the factions, Cassandra hungry for something to sink her teeth into. The undercurrent of rage has increased in the last couple of days and it’s enough to set your teeth on edge.
Stuffing a backpack with a few essentials in case you get stranded, you ready yourself for a supply run. The thought of leaving the perceived safety of your cabin has little appeal, but you’ve been putting it off for far too long. There was a small cache only a few miles from your cabin that other survivors kept stocked with extra provincials. You were hoping for something good, anything other can canned food or cereal. Or Spam.
Tightening the straps on your backpack, you take one last glance around before stepping out into the forest. It’s eerily quiet, no birds or animals chattering to fill the silence, just the crunch of your shoes against fallen leaves. The Void has always felt oppressive to you, the air just a little too heavy, but there’s something lingering today that makes you feel on edge. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you pat your belt for the knife you’ve stashed there.
Just in case.
You’re half a mile away from the cache when you feel it—the inky slick of anger. It catches on the air and wafts towards you in waves. You slow your steps as you approach the road and come to a halt when the battered van comes into view.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
You’d recognize those claw marks anywhere.
Your heart races as your eyes trace the deep, jagged cuts gouged into the metal and the large swathes of blood coating the ground and what you can see of the interior of the van. Instinctively your hand tightens around the hilt of your knife and you crouch down low behind a fallen log. You scan the area for any signs of movement and find none, but you know Logan is stealthier than you and wouldn’t give up his location willingly.
The van door creaks open on its battered hinges and you inhale sharply as Logan stumbles out of the vehicle covered in dried blood and sweat and more knife wounds and bullet holes than you can count.
The sight of him ignites a spark of longing that blooms in your chest and makes you physically ache. You can feel him. Your lips remember the hungered warmth of his mouth against yours, the way he’d nip at your bottom lip so you’d open up for him. Your skin remembers the calloused rasp of his hands and not just the greedy grabs when he needed to claim you, but the light brushes of his fingertips against your palm as he held your hand, just to remind himself that you were real. Your nose remembers his scent, woodsy and clean, like the earth after rain.
Shaking your head, you push down the memories and peer back over the log. A slight breeze wafts through the air and you watch as he sniffs, his head turning in your direction.
“Fuck,” you curse lowly, trying to crouch further out of eyesight.
You hear the metallic snikt of his claws and your pulse quickens. There’s no point in hiding—he knows you’re there. You take a slow, steady breath before attempting to focus waves of calm in his direction, hoping to ease some of the anger wound around him.
His eyes lock onto yours, sharp and predatory and he shakes his head, trying to keep you out. “Who the fuck’re you?”
You draw back your power and raise your hands in surrender as you slowly rise to your feet. You toss out your name and silently hope for a spark of recognition. But he doesn’t know you. Not yet.
“It’s not safe out here alone,” you start, moving out of your hiding place. You walk towards him, his eyes following your every move. “There’s a cache just up ahead—”
The atmosphere shifts without warning, the anger you’d felt previously now melting into thick, cloying fear and desperation. You can taste the ozone and the hairs at the back of your neck stand on end as electricity sizzles across the sky. Glancing up, you see the dark, swirling mass of Alioth just beginning to form.
You look at Logan, panic racing along your nerves. “I promise I’ll explain everything to you later, but I know you, Logan, and right now I need you to trust me.”
Alioth’s presence is getting stronger and drawing closer, and every drop of tension and rage swirling within is beginning to weigh down on you, threatening to suffocate you.
Logan’s eyes narrow, but there’s a slight twitch in his jaw and you know he’s considering your words. His claws retract, but his muscles remain tense, coiled and ready to attack. You grab for his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin and the hard muscle beneath your fingers. “We have to go. Now.”
For a moment, you think he might resist. But then with a low curse, he follows you, his stride matching yours as you lead him towards the cache. The trees blur by, the wind picking up and beginning to toss leaves and loose branches into the air.
You’re operating on pure adrenaline and your heart pounds in your chest as you run, Alioth gaining speed and distance faster than either of you can move. Each gasp of air burns your lungs and your muscles ache with the effort of your sprint.
Still a quarter of a mile away from the cache, you know you won’t be able to outrun Alioth. The storm has consumed the sky, the sun diminished to twilight, as the thunder and groans loom ever closer. You turn towards Logan and yell, “It’s too close, we’re not gonna make it!”
Logan’s eyes flash with anger as you stop and turn towards the oncoming destruction. He grabs for your wrist, pulling you almost nose to nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, chest heaving with the effort to breathe. “We can’t stop!”
His proximity briefly disarms you, his fierce gaze igniting something deep within you, but you don’t have time to dwell on those emotions. You take a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves. “I’m gonna try and calm it down.”
“What are you going to do, think happy thoughts at it?” he asks, his tone biting and sarcastic.
You know every cell in his body is begging to fight, aching to release his claws and tear Alioth apart with his bare hands. But this isn’t something brute strength can subdue.
“Just trust me,” you plead, your eyes searching his for some indication that he believes you. “Please.”
His stare is hard, but eventually his eyes soften and he loosens his grip on your wrist. “Fine.”
Tearing your gaze from him, you turn back towards the storm, now a full blown maelstrom of anger and destruction hellbent on consuming you both whole. You exhale slowly, pushing your own emotions of fear and panic as far down as you can. Instead, you turn inward and concentrate on every feeling of peace, calm and stillness you’ve ever experienced and project it outwards. Waves of soothing energy pour from you, an almost ghostly aura emanating from you as your power continues to grow. Alioth continues to surge towards you, the wind now flattening trees to the ground and lifting debris high into the air.
The fight is excruciating, every cell in your body shaking with effort as you continue to project outwards, the sphere of your influence growing. When the two opposing masses collide, you’re almost knocked off your feet by the force. You’re vaguely aware of Logan beside you, claws unsheathing as he steps closer into your protective shield.
For a brief moment, you feel the power of the storm ebb before it seems to press into you harder. Your knees begin to buckle and your stance slips. “I…I don’t know if I can hold it!” you gasp.
Logan doesn’t run but instead moves closer, giving you one solitary nod. You can feel Logan’s eyes on you, feel the doubt swirling behind them and yet he stays besides you, ready to fight.
His silent encouragement is enough.
You are not dying in the fucking Void.
Gritting your teeth, you continue to push. A guttural scream rips from your throat as black spots dot your vision and blood drips from your nose. You dig down, channeling every last drop of your energy into a final wave, extending yourself deep within the core of the storm.
The black of the storm begins to retreat and the wind begins to calm. As the first few beams of sunlight filter in through the treetops, your vision fades completely and the world goes black.
The last thing you feel is a pair of strong arms wrapping around you before your mind goes blissfully blank and unconsciousness claims you.
+++
You wake up in the cache.
Dust motes dance in the sunlight streaming in through the broken windows. The light is soft, definitely not the early morning glow from before you left the comfort of your cabin and you wonder how long you were out. With a groan, you try to sit up. Your body is stiff, every muscle in your body aching with the effort you took to banish Alioth. Wincing, you swing your legs out of the makeshift bed, the effort taking your breath away and you can feel the sickly creep of nausea climb up your throat.
A low voice cuts through the haze. “Take it easy.”
Logan.
You blink, trying to adjust your eyes to the light and find him sitting on the floor, one leg pulled up to his chest as a bottle of whiskey hangs between his fingers. He takes a long pull and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“How long was I out?” you ask, your voice hoarse.
Logan doesn’t answer immediately. He reaches over at a box beside him and then rolls a water bottle towards your feet before he finally mutters, “A day.”
You accept the bottle with a nod of thanks. Taking a slow sip, you close your eyes as the liquid soothes your throat even as your body protests the movement. You’ve never used your powers to that degree before. Fuck, you didn’t even know you could. A perverse sense of pride licks at the edge of your exhaustion.
Lowering the bottle, you breathe deeply in an attempt to settle the nausea rolling in the pit of your stomach. You glance at Logan and find him watching you, his eyes sharp, calculating.
“You owe me some answers. You said you knew me.”
You meet his gaze, the weight of his words pressing down on you. After hundreds of encounters with different Logans, it was never easy explaining to him what you were. For a long time, you didn’t even have a name for it. All you knew was that your consciousness, all your memories, everything that you are moves across different universes and inevitably crosses paths with Logan. It always felt like an invisible string, guiding your soul to his.
“I’m a temporal nomad.”
Logan’s eyes narrow as he glares at you. “A temporal what?” His tone is laced with skepticism.
You take another sip of water, giving yourself time to gather your thoughts and push away the throbbing at your temples. “A temporal nomad. I don’t die, not in the way you think, anyway.”
Logan doesn’t move, but you see his grip tighten on the bottle in his hand, his knuckles going white. “You tellin’ me you’re immortal?”
“No, not immortal,” you reply, exhaling slowly. “When I die, my consciousness moves. I reincarnate in a different universe. Eventually I regain everything—my experiences, my memories, my feelings. It’s why—” you pause and take a deep, steadying breath. “It’s why I always find you.”
Your words hit their mark and Logan’s eyes flash with something you can’t quite decipher—shock, disbelief, maybe some anger. He sits up straighter, tipping the whiskey bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact. “You always find me?” he asks, his voice a low rumble. “We’ve met before?”
“I’ve lost count of how many time, actually,” you admit softly. “But in every reality, every universe, I find you. And we’re not just friends, Logan.”
Your words linger in the air between you and your heart pounds loudly in your chest. Logan stands suddenly, the now empty whiskey bottle clattering to the ground. He runs a hand through his hair before scrubbing it down his face, his jaw clenched as he paces within the small space. A mirthless chuckle escapes his lips. “This smells like bullshit, sweetheart.”
Your heart aches at his use of the word sweetheart. It’s one he’s always preferred for you, usually spoken with reverence, like a prayer falling from his lips. Except now it’s casual and cold, something with a sharp edge instead of softness.
“I know how crazy it sounds. Believe me, Logan, it took me several lifetimes to wrap my mind around it.” You stand, your legs wobbly with the effort and you wince against the pull in your spent muscles. “But I know you.”
His expression hardens. “Yeah? Well, I don’t know you. And if you really knew me, you’d know to stay the fuck away from people like me.” Logan’s pacing grows more hurried, his hands clenching into fists.
“I can’t,” you say softly, taking a tentative step closer towards him. “And I don’t want to. While I might not know the Logan in front of me or the nuances that make you different from the others, I know you.”
His nostrils flare and he lets out a low growl. “Stop.”
“I know the way you fight,” you continue, ignoring his warning. “I know the way you carry your pain as if no one else can possibly shoulder that weight. I know—”
“Stop!”
“—how you push people away to protect them, but that deep down you hope someone will push back. You may carry a lot of self loathing, Logan, but even you know you’re not heartless.”
Logan’s fist slams into the wall behind him, the sound reverberating in the small room. He stands there, chest heaving, his knuckles bleeding from where they made contact with the rough wooden planks. You watch as the raw skin knits itself back together, his head hanging low.
His jaw clenches as he wipes the blood from his hands, his breathing still ragged and posture rigid, itching for a fight. He glances over at you, his expression softer but still rough.
“We’re done here,” he growls, but his voice soft, more broken than angry.
Logan turns without another word and all you can do is watch him leave.
+++
You spend the rest of the morning dozing in bursts of fitful sleep, your confrontation with Logan taking its emotional toll. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and for the first time in your life, you feel as if you’re destined to wander this universe alone.
But you can’t think about it.
Not now.
Ignoring the ache in your limbs, you pack up what supplies you can and ready yourself for the walk back to your cabin. The sun is a couple of hours from setting, the world bathed in golden light, when you set out. Walking down the steps, you pause at the distant crunch of boots on the gravel. You feel your pulse thrum in your chest as the sound gets closer and then he steps into view, his eyes locking onto yours.
Logan.
The sight of him standing there fills you with a rush of conflicting emotions. Relief, angry, anxiety and you’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak first. He looks the same—tired, disheveled, but steady and strong all the same. Neither of you moves, unspoken words hanging between you.
“I shouldn’t’ve left,” he says finally.
For a moment you say nothing. Because it’s exactly what you want to hear from him. Except, because you’re beyond exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally, you say, “No, you fucking shouldn’t have.”
There’s definitely more bite in your tone than you intended, but the release of some of your pent up anger feels so good you can’t bring yourself to care.
Logan’s eyes narrow as you move past him and keep walking. “Wait, so I come back here to apologize,” he begins, following close behind you, “and now you’re gonna just walk away?”
“You know, you never even thanked me for saving your ass,” you say, side stepping a downed log. “Just started demanding answers and then tucked tail and ran when you didn’t like what I had to say.”
He grabs your wrist and you stumble into his grasp, your breath hitching in your throat as you stand almost chest to chest. “I didn’t fucking ask for any of this!”
His anger bleeds into you, curling around your skin where his fingers press into your pulse point. You feel your nostrils flare and you’re itching for something to hit as you stare up at him, his jaw clenched. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you know you need to reign in your emotions or you’ll ignite the fuse between you.
“You think I did?” you ask, pulling your arm from his grasp. Your voice is calmer, but just as sharp. “You think I want to relive the grief of mourning you over and over while also finding something new to love about you? You think I wanted to be banished to the Void all because my soul just can’t die when I do?”
Logan’s expression softens and he scrubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’ve had a shitty coupla days here. And you’re saying a lot of shit I don’t understand.”
He seems weary, then, and any remaining anger you harbor towards him dies in your veins. You take a deep breath in and blow it out slowly. “You don’t have to understand right now. Just—just trust me. Please?”
You hate how your voice breaks just a little.
Logan nods then, the barest tilt of his head, but it’s enough.
He continues to follow you through the woods back towards the cabin and for a while neither of you speak. It should feel awkward, especially now, but it doesn’t. You’re so used to his brand of stubbornness and reluctance to see what’s right in his face that this is the most at home you’ve felt since you got here.
“So,” you start after a few minutes of silence, “how did you end up here?”
Logan huffs. “Some asshole in red spandex dragged me here and I said I need to help save his universe.”
“And can you?”
His step falters and you pause to look a him, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees. “I couldn’t save mine.” The weight of his words linger, heavy with a burden only he alone has been shouldering. He doesn’t meet your eyes as he brushes past you and keeps walking.
“Wanna talk about it?” you ask, catching up with him.
Logan growls. “No.”
“Alright, maybe later then,” you reply and he simply ignores you and keeps on walking. “Where’s this asshole friend of yours?”
“I left him tied up in the van.”
You had long passed the spot where you found Logan by the beat up van and the road was deserted. Based on the subtle smirk on his face, you figure Logan already knows that. Whatever his relationship is with the stranger, he seems somewhat happy to be rid of him and you don’t push him further. Although, you can’t help but wonder what happened to the van and whose hands it fell into.
Logan’s gait slows as the cabin comes into view through the trees. He follows behind you as you clear the space, checking for any stragglers that may have come along while you were gone. Pushing open the door, you watch as he looks around, taking in the small space.
“You’ve been living here?”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it living, but sure,” you comment, throwing your backpack on the table as you sit down. You can’t help the groan that escapes your lips as your muscles relax. “You can stay here if you want. I didn’t just let you follow me for your sparkling personality, you know.”
Logan actually laughs at that as he sits down on the small couch. His face lightens up, eyes crinkling just a bit at the corners, and for the first time since you found him, he seems unburdened. A blossom of hope grows in your chest and you grasp onto it, holding tight to the one bit of light you’ve had in this month of darkness.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
You know he means for more than the offer to stay and you return his smile with one of your own. “You’re welcome.”
As the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you bring out some extra blankets and a couple of pillows and help Logan turn the couch into a makeshift bed. You turn to leave when you hear him ask, “You really find me in every universe?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds terrible.”
You give him a small smile as you lean against the doorframe to the bedroom. “Oh, it’s not all that bad. I get to fall in love with you all over again.”
+++
You wake in the middle of the night to the sound of low, panicked growls coming from across the room.
You quietly slip from the bed and tiptoe towards the couch. Logan writhes beneath the sheets, pain etched across his face as he wrestles the demons in his sleeping mind. Taking a deep breath, you center yourself and focus every fiber of your power in his direction, hoping the waves of calm can break through whatever battle he’s fighting deep in the recesses of his mind.
Logan growls deep in his throat, the sound guttural and raw, his claws unsheathing and tearing at the sheets beneath him in agitation. A fine sheen of sweat beads along his brow and pieces of hair are plastered against his damp forehead.
“Logan,” you say softly, trying to break through the fog of his nightmare. “You’re safe, Logan.”
Your powers are waning, the stress of fighting off Alioth having left you depleted. You push down the ache, the tug in your brain demanding that you draw back, and instead kneel down in front of him, trailing your fingers across his palm and over the pulse point in his wrist. He jerks at your touch, his claws coming close to your skin, but the contact is enough and you feel his pulse slow beneath your fingertips.
You continue to speak in hushed tones, your voice barely above a whisper. “There you go, Logan. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Logan’s breathing is ragged, his eyes squeezed shut. You can feel the tension in his body, his muscles rigid with the need for release. You keep your fingers against his wrist, your touch steady and calming, as you bring up your other hand to smooth the lines along his brow.
“There you go,” you continue to murmur, “Focus on my voice. Focus on my calm.”
Gradually, his growls subside and his breathing begins to even out as the nightmare loses its grip over him. His muscles lose their tension and relax and the frantic movements of his limbs subsides. With one final deep breath, he stills, his claws retracting and he settles back into a peaceful sleep.
You sit and watch him for a minute, taking in all of his features and simply admiring him for the first time since your last life with him. This Logan is different—they all are in their own way—but this one a little more than the others. He seems wearier, more worn down, his usual scowl lines etched deep. There’s an exhaustion in his eyes, too, you haven’t seen before and you wonder if this Logan actually ever rests.
As you stand, you feel his fingers circle loosely around your wrist and give a small tug. You look down to where he’s touching you, his skin hot against yours, and you glance up to find him staring at you through half lidded eyes.
“Stay.” It comes out in a low whisper and as you open your mouth to protest, he adds, “Please.”
You could never deny him in any universe.
The couch is barely wider than he is, yet he shifts to make a sliver of space for you to slot yourself into. It should be awkward, the way you press yourself between the couch and the solid warmth of his frame, but it’s not. You hitch your leg over his hip, forcing your legs to tangle, as you rest your head against his chest. His heartbeat is strong and comforting beneath your ear and you find yourself quickly relaxing into his touch.
As you fall asleep, you feel his arm curl around you, tucking protectively against your ribs.
+++
When morning breaks, you’re alone. The warmth of his body is gone and you find yourself shivering. Pushing to sit, you wrap a blanket around yourself before standing up.
The cabin is empty.
You try and ignore the sliver of panic that threatens to slip its way down your spine.
Opening the front door, you pause when you find him sitting on the dilapidated porch, staring absently out at the trees. He glances up at you and watches as you sit down beside him. You hug the blanket closer around your shoulders and sit with him in silence.
You don’t mention last night.
“So,” you start, “what’s the plan?”
Logan raises his eyebrow. “You planning on stickin’ with me?”
“If you let me,” you reply with a smile.
You listen as Logan explains the events of the past couple of days, including Wade’s abduction of him from his own universe and how they both became to be bloodied and battered in the van. Your ears perk up when he mentions Paradox and returning to Wade’s universe.
“You think he can actually get back?” you ask, willing yourself to not hold onto too much hope.
Logan huffs. “Probably not.”
“And yet you’re out here trying to think of a way to find him,” you say. “Why?”
A frown tugs at Logan’s mouth and he looks down at his hands. Eventually, he reaches into the pocket of his suit and pulls out a crumpled Polaroid. He tilts it towards you and you look down at the group or smiling people. “He’s got something to go home to,” he says, thumbing the edge of the photo. “I got nothin’.”
There’s something soft in his gaze as he looks down at the photo, some lingering hope he’s too afraid to put words to.
“I’m sure you have something, Logan,” you say quietly.
His expression hardens then, jaw tightening, as he slips the photo back in his pocket. “Had. Past tense.” Logan stands then and looks down at you. “Get ready. We’re leaving in five.”
+++
You get ready quickly, changing your clothes and splashing water on your face before making sure your pack was sufficiently stocked. You were hoping you wouldn’t be needing it for much longer, but you didn’t want to express that thought out loud. Despite Logan wishing to go back to find Wade, you knew he wasn’t convinced this would end well.
Logan’s already started down the path as you jog down the cabin steps, swinging your pack up onto your shoulders. Catching up with him, you hand him the Pop-Tart you pulled out earlier. “Breakfast? They’re unfrosted, because this is the Void, but it’s something.”
He looks down at you, a strange expression on his face, but he accepts your offer. “Thanks,” he says, taking a bite.
“So, where exactly were you headed when you both decided to maul each other silly?” you ask, keeping pace with him as you walk through the woods.
“Johnny had mentioned a resistance out in the Borderlands,” Logan answers, swallowing the bite of Pop-Tart. “Figured we might find some people who could help us get control over Cassandra.”
You nod. “You’re not far from the Borderlands. Maybe four or so miles from he cache. I haven’t ventured out that far, but I’ve heard there’s a few outposts where others have hunkered down.”
“Then that’s where we go.”
You walk in comfortable silence, leaving Logan to his thoughts as you travel further away from safety and into the unknown. You stop at the cache briefly, pausing only snag a few water bottles before moving on.
A couple of miles past the cache, Logan suddenly stops, sniffing the air. His posture goes rigid, on alert as he slowly moves forward, beckoning you to follow him. A few yards away, the beat up van comes into view, parked alongside a lodging that looks as if it was built into the very earth itself.
Logan’s arm darts out, stopping you. “Stay close,” he commands quietly, stepping cautiously closer towards the structure.
You follow behind him, every sense on alert as you step inside. The place is quiet, but then you hear it—the soft rustle of snoring. And then Logan’s soft, “Ah, fuck me.”
Peering over his shoulder, you find a sleeping Wade spread eagle on the bed. Logan side steps the bed, ignoring the sleeping man, and begins rummaging through the place. Finding a bottle of whiskey, he groans in delight, twisting the cap off and taking a long pull.
“Really Logan?”
He quirks an eyebrow at you, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “What else would you like me to be doing?” he asks, biting.
“You came all this way to find him and now you’re gonna just drink?” you ask in disbelief. It gnaws at you, his indifference. You can feel little frissons of indignation licking at your skin and you have to tamp down your emotions before they bleed into him.
Logan shrugs. “He’s asleep. I ain’t draggin’ him anywhere.”
You cross your arms, glaring at Logan in frustration. “I didn’t follow you here to watch you stand around and get drunk. Wake him up.”
He gives you a sidelong glance, his brow furrowing. You don’t relent, your stare pointed as he takes another long pull from the bottle. Muttering to himself, Logan makes his way over to the bed and gives it one swift, forceful kick.
Wade jolts awake with a loud, exaggerated snort. He looks between you and Logan, his eyes finally settling on you. “Who’re you?” he asks, looking around as if expecting an answer. “When did the script get rewritten?”
You look at him quizzically, your eyebrow raised. “Who are you talking to?”
Wade huffs. “The audience,“ he says, gesturing towards the wall.
“Does he do this often?” you ask Logan in a whisper.
“Hasn’t stopped since he fucking dragged me here,” Logan replies.
Your attention is diverted as Wade suddenly rolls from he bed, crossing the room and two large strides. He unsheathes one of his katanas, pressing himself against the wall and then he’s pinned on the ground as a woman pulls a blade of her own. After a moment, she lets Wade up and two more people follow into the room behind her.
Logan eyes each one with suspicion as introductions are made and you can feel the tension growing within him as he continues to drink.
You jump as Gambit uses one of his playing cards to burst the bottle of whiskey in Logan’s hands. Logan ignores your pleading look and Wade’s admonishment as he grabs another bottle with a soft, “Boo boo boo.”
When Laura enters, you feel Logan’s interest pique, something heavy weighing on him. They both look towards one another, taking each other in and you don’t miss the recognition in Laura’s eyes.
“Do you know her?” you ask Logan, sliding closer to him.
Logan shakes his head. “No. But Wade’s Logan does.” He takes another long drink from the bottle, eyes still trained on her.
Wade continues to talk with the group, recapping their time in the Void and how they managed to escape Cassandra’s lair. Logan punctuates the conversation with vitriolic quips of his own, drinking more as Wade tries to get the group to form a team.
You try to send your power Logan’s way, trying to bleed into him some calm, but he shakes his shoulders and brushes you off. “Don’t fucking bother, sweetheart.”
“I can help you, Logan.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask for it.”
As Wade rallies the group into a cohesive unit, gaining their support in taking down Cassandra, Logan huffs a bitter laugh. “You’re all fucking dead.”
“Oh, my god, read the room,” Wade chides.
+++
Logan storms off, one bottle of whiskey fisted in each hand. You want to follow after him, but Wade stops you. “Let him go, cupcake. Peanut’s in a fragile state and you’re too pretty to become mincemeat.”
You shoot a glare at him and brush his hand away from your shoulder. “No, he only seems to sink his claws into you,” you bite back, but the anger leeches from your voice.
“Spicy,” Wade comments, “I like you. The script editor worked overtime on you, I can tell.”
“Yeah, well the jury’s still out over here,” you say, but you can’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at your lips.
You glance over at the door and feel Wade sidle up beside you. “Seriously, cupcake. Chasing after him is like trying to catch a raccoon with rabies. Might be fun, but it’s not worth the bite.”
“Oh yeah?” you ask, peering over at him, “And how long have you known him?”
Wade pretends to look down at his wrist and taps a non-existent watch. “Four days, six hours and thirty-two minutes,” he says with a smirk, “but I don’t really like to put a timestamp on friendship."
With a groan, you plop down on the bed and rub at your temples. “Is everything a joke with you?”
“Mostly,” he chirps with a grin. He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms as he watches you. “But I have been known to press pause occasionally.” Wade regards you for a moment, a slight tilt to his head. “Honey badger does it for you, huh?”
Sighing, you lay back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “I have followed Logan through millennia, Wade. I can’t remember a time anymore where I haven’t loved him.”
“His mutant dick that good, huh?”
You half laugh, half snort and shoot him a pointed look. “Not everything is about sex, Wade.”
“Agree to disagree,” he says with a shrug. “We’ve all got emotional baggage, mine is definitely over the free to fly limit, but that guy? Literal mountains. Centuries worth, even.”
“Exactly,” you say, sitting up. “I’ve helped him carry more than you can imagine. Logan may push people away, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need someone to stay.”
Wade cocks his head, considering your words and his expression softens. “You know running after him isn’t going to fix him.”
“I’m not trying to fix him,” you reply. “He just needs to know someone is there for him.”
“Well, it’s your funeral, cupcake,” he says with a sigh. “I promise I’ll give a really moving eulogy. But, I do think if anyone is gonna convince tall, dark and brooding out there to join us, it’s you.”
You give him a soft smile as you stand. “Thanks, Wade.”
“And just so you know,” he calls after you, “I’m open and willing to being your mutant dick rebound.”
You roll your eyes and walk out the door.
+++
You step outside and see Logan sitting by himself in front of a fire not too far from the lodging. Walking quietly, you stop when you see Laura approach him and sit along side him. You’re close enough that you can hear their words—hear Logan tell her about the suit, about how he found the X-Men, his friends, dead.
The anger, the loathing, this Logan carries comes into focus and you can’t help but wonder how long he’s lived with this weight upon his shoulders. Suffering alone with only the bottom of a bottle to quiet the thoughts that scream in his mind.
As Laura eventually leaves, she catches your eye and gives you a small nod.
You feel a strange kinship with her. She too has memories of a Logan who no longer exists and who is radically different from the one she has now. You wonder what she’s thinking and have half a mind to follow after her when you hear Logan call out, “I know you’re there.”
You turn back towards where he remains sitting in front of the fire, the whiskey bottle now more than half gone. Closing the gap between you, you sit down alongside him and watch as he continues to stare down into the fading fire.
“How much did you hear?” he asks, taking a large swig from the bottle.
“Enough,” you answer simply.
Logan grunts and takes a long pull from the bottle, his lips glistening as his swallows get sloppy. “Well, now you know. I’m the worst Logan,” he almost spits, his tone dark and bitter. “You drew the short straw with me, sweetheart.”
“You know I don’t think that,” you say softly.
Logan doesn’t respond and instead finishes the rest of the whiskey, tossing the bottle somewhere behind him. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he looks over at you. “You actually gonna join them tomorrow?”
“Are you?”
“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” he answers. “You want to walk up to your death, be my guest.”
“If you’re so convinced this is a suicide mission, why don’t you want to go?” you counter, his ire beginning to bleed into the space between you and creep uncomfortably along your skin. “You afraid you might come face to face with actual death and realize that’s not really what you want?”
Logan’s gaze flicks up to your face, his eyes dark, dangerous. “You’re fucking pushin’ it.”
“Good! Someone fucking should be!” you exclaim, standing from the fallen log. Maybe Wade was right—maybe this was futile. In every universe Logan could be a stubborn ass, but this one was particularly obstinate. “Do you really believe you’re so unredeemable, Logan? That you’re just a vile mutant who doesn’t deserve sympathy after his friends were brutally murdered?”
You can feel his rage boiling just under the surface of the thin veneer of calm. His eyes pierce into you, pinning you in place as he stands to his full height, his fists clenched tightly.
“You don’t know shit about me, sweetheart,” he growls.
Anger simmers in your veins, threatening to burn you from the inside out. “Oh fuck you, Logan.”
He takes a step closer, his eyes narrowing as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Me sinking into your cunt while you picture whatever version of me you think I am.” His voice is a low rumble, adding to the tension threatening to suffocate you.
Your breath catches in your throat at his words, and it isn’t desire that courses through you, but rage. Your skin prickles and his vitriol ignites something deep within you, something hotter and brighter than you’ve ever felt before.
“After all this time and everything I’ve told you, you honestly believe that’s all I want from you? You’re a fucking pathetic asshole,” you snap, your voice sharp and laced with venom.
Logan’s expression darkens, the smirk slipping from his face as his jaw clenches. “You got some balls sayin’ that shit to me,” he spits.
A small part of you is terrified of him, afraid that he might actually snap. Might actually unsheathe his claws and send you onto your next life without ever having truly lived this one. But you know him, you know him. His pain and rage isn’t towards you, but himself.
You risk a step closer to him, narrowing the space between you and you can feel the heat radiating off of him, mingling with your own fury. “Yeah, well at least one of us has a pair.”
Logan doesn’t have time to react before you channel your powers towards him, unleashing an explosive burst of energy that sends him staggering back. And then you smother him, smother him in thousands of years of memories, thousands of years of every single feeling you had ever felt for him in every universe you’ve known him.
The weight of your emotional onslaught brings him to his knees, but you keep pushing, switching from your feelings for him to his feelings for you. All the affection, all the love, all the comfort the two of you shared in every version of your coupling across space and time floods his mind.
You watch as his expression melts from anger into one of overwhelming vulnerability and pain. His hands, still clenched into fists, tremble beneath the weight of your power surging through him. He looks up at you then, his eyes pleading and your resolve breaks. Tears burn in your eyes and trail down your cheeks, wetting your lips as a scream rips from your lungs.
Your hold on Logan dissipates as you reign your emotions back under control. You stagger on your feet as your power diminishes, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and broken sobs. You can’t look at him, not yet. If you do, you might actually break. So you do something that you never thought you would do—you leave.
+++
Night in the Void is cool, almost bordering on uncomfortable like everything else in this godforsaken place, but for once it doesn’t bother you. You gaze up at the sky, the haze of distant stars and planets blurring together the more you try and focus on just one.
You’ve always loved looking at the stars. There was a comfort in knowing you could look up at the sky and see the same constellations in every universe, that there was always one constant among all the variables.
You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting before you hear the crunch of his boots on the earth, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his heel. Logan joins you on the ground, sitting with a heavy sigh. The maelstrom of emotions swirling within him bleeds into the space between you and you can feel it, thick and heavy and suffocating.
You risk a glance at him and he looks…defeated. His eyes are red-rimmed and raw and you see something in those hazel eyes you rarely see—fear. Not fear at you, although your guilt would rather have you believe that, but fear of himself, fear of feeling what you’ve shown him. Logan’s breath is slow, controlled, but you can hear the slight tremor in it.
“I promised myself I would never use my powers on you” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know what it feels like to experience that onslaught. It feels like drowning.” Your voice cracks and you fight to keep the guilt burning in your chest from consuming you whole. “And that was just a fraction of what we’ve felt across lifetimes, Logan.”
Logan stays silent but gazes at your face, eyes flicking across your features, drinking you in. The scrutiny makes you shiver. Before you isn’t The Wolverine, the X-Man people in his universe loathe, but a man left raw and vulnerable.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he says slowly, his voice rough as the words are pulled from him. “You shouldn’t have shown me that.”
You flinch, the weight of his words are a punch to your gut. “I know,” you whisper, wiping tears from your eyes. “I know and I’m sorry, I—”
Logan cuts you off with a shake of his head, his eyes now locked onto yours. “I already knew, sweetheart,”he murmurs, his voice low. “You feel like—you feel like home.”
Your heart stutters in your chest and for a moment you can’t breathe. The words hang between you, heavy and raw, the sound of them something you’ve been craving to hear.
“I am your home,” you reply softly.
Logan shifts beside you, closing the space between you as he slips his hand behind your neck and pulls you in. His mouth crashes to yours, his kiss urgent, rough and desperate.
You reach for him, gripping his shoulders as you kiss him back, the Void slipping away. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the rough scrape of his beard against your skin, the way his other hand tugs at your waist in an attempt to pull you closer.
It’s messy and intense and you don’t want it to end. Logan kisses you like a man starved, like you’re his last breath of air.
A whimper falls from your lips as he finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You’re both breathless, his nose softly nudging yours.
“Please come with us tomorrow,” you whisper against his skin. “Let me take you home.”
He nods once and that’s all you need.
+++
The morning comes quicker than anyone would like.
Nervous energy bleeds through the group, everyone knowing they’re on the precipice of life or death, that this may be the last day they ever inhale air into their lungs or feel the warmth of the sun on their skin.
Logan’s quiet, already tucking into Gambit’s liquor, as you sit down beside him. He looks down at you briefly, taking a long long pull before offering you the bottle. You take it from him and take a swig of your own, the amber liquid burning a path down your throat.
“What are you thinking?” you ask, handing him back the bottle.
He stares down at his feet, swirling the liquid around in the glass. “I honestly don’t even fuckin’ know.”
You reach for his hand and give him a comforting squeeze. He stares down at you for a moment and then drags his gaze up to your face. “Whatever happens Logan, I’ll be right there with you.”
Final preparations complete, everyone piles into the van, you tucking alongside Logan in the hatchback. The ride is mostly quiet, punctuated only with the few occasional quips by Wade just to ease the tension. You brace yourself, gripping Logan’s calf as Blade sends a rocket launcher through Cassandra’s front gate and Elektra floors it through the explosion.
The others leave the van first, forming a line of defense. You look up at Logan and lean forward to press the faintest of kisses against his lips. His fingers curl around your neck and pull you closer, deepening it just enough to taste your mouth.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs, pulling back. “Stay by me.”
You swallow hard, loathe to let him go, wanting to stay in the perceived safety of the van, but you simply nod and follow him to join the others.
Fighting erupts all around you and you stick as close to Logan’s back as you can. It’s a symphony of chaos—rage, fear and determination all swirling heavily in the air. You feel your power thrum underneath your fingertips as you channel those emotions back towards whoever Logan is fighting, hoping to disarm them—even if temporarily—with their own vitriol in an attempt to give him an advantage.
The air burns in your lungs as you move through the fight, your mind spinning as you gain distance towards Cassandra’s lair. You can see the others move around you—Elektra and Blade slicing down enemies with their blades; Gambit disarming others with his explosively charged playing cards; Laura fighting in a style all her own, yet so much like Logan’s; and Wade cutting down others like he’s having fun.
A clear path opens up to the ramp leading up to Cassandra and the others swarm behind you, allowing yourself, Wade and Logan to break free from the melee. Logan looks back at you just long enough for you to see the fear in his eyes. You try and remain stoic, even though your mind is racing with all he the ways this could go wrong, and give him a small nod of encouragement.
You stop short in front of Cassandra as she sits sipping tea, seemingly disinterested in the battle happening just outside her stronghold. “You two escaping I could live with, but coming back willingly…” she trails off, “Boys are so silly.” Her eyes dart towards you. “And you brought a friend!”
“I just need to get home,” Wade says, his tone serious.
“I’m afraid that’s not an option.”
Cassandra flicks Wade aside effortlessly and Logan’s instantly on alert, claws extended at his side. You attempt to direct your powers at her, trying to defuse the anger simmering below her surface. She rolls her neck and glances at you, intrigue in her eyes.
“Oh, aren’t you interesting,” she says, effortlessly flicking your powers aside. “I wonder what treats you have hiding in that mind of yours.”
Cassandra steps closer to you, her calculating stare flicking over your face. She lifts one hand up to you and from behind her, Logan growls and moves to attack. You watch, powerless, as she pins Logan to the ground with his own claws.
She tsks and looks down at him, “That’s enough out of you.”
And then, she’s in your mind, every nerve ending in your body on fire, ready to consume you whole.
You’re standing in a library, Cassandra at your side. Shelves extend as far as the eye can see, fading into an infinite distance. You walk aimlessly along the shelves, pausing at the entrance of a room simply titled “Logan”.
“Oh, now this is something,” you hear Cassandra say from beside you. “This is quite the collection you have.”
Your fingers reach out and touch the spines, the briefest flickers of memories emanating from their covers. “I’ve known him for so long,” you murmur. “Been with him through so much.”
You pause in front of one book, the urge to open it nearly overwhelming. Pulling it from the shelf, the pages flutter open and you gasp, the memories of that life flooding your brain.
You and Logan were married in this life. He worked a simple job, construction. There were no X-men, no missions, no danger. He kept his mutation a secret, showing only you when the memories got too rough, too unmanageable. You were his anchor. You had two kids—girls. And oh, how he loved them. Both of them wrapped effortlessly around his heart from before they were even born.
Tears spring to your eyes as the warmth of those memories flood through you. “I loved that life,” you whisper, putting the book back on the shelf.
“And who wouldn’t?” Cassandra agrees, placing her hand on your shoulder. “So effortless his love for you. So different from now.”
You glance over at her, confusion drawn on your face. False empathy tugs at Cassandra’s sympathetic smile. “Are you even sure he cares for you now? This Logan is so broken, more broken and unloveable than all these other Logans, hm?”
Shaking your head, you try to resist her efforts to batter you, to convince you your soul’s purpose is not worth it. Not worth him. “That’s not true. They’re all worthy. All capable and deserving of love,” you say, your fingers trailing along another spine. “Even this one. Especially this one.”
Cassandra’s face contorts then and…
She’s wrenched from your mind and you fall to your knees, blinking up as you see Wade holding Cassandra from behind, one hand holding Jaggernaut’s helmet to her head.
Your mind still spins as Logan and Wade confront her, their conversation a jumble in your mind. But you don’t miss her saying either they kill her, or she kills them. Finding the strength to stand, you rise and place your hand on Wade’s arm.
“If I stay,” you start, focusing only on Cassandra and ignoring the press of Logan’s gaze into your skin, “Will you let them go?”
Logan reaches for you and you pull your gaze from Cassandra long enough to press your palm against this chest. You meet his eyes, silently pleading with him to let you continue.
“Will you?” you repeat, unable to keep the pleading out of your tone.
Cassandra laughs bitterly. “You love him that much? To sacrifice yourself to save him? That Logan, out of all of them?”
You nod, feeling the tears burn in your eyes. “I love him that much,” you reply softly.
Logan grabs your hand then, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out, voice thick with unspoken emotion, “Don’t do this.”
You smile softly as you reach up and cup his cheek, his beard rough against your palm. You don’t miss the way he briefly nuzzles into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he sighs. “I love you, Logan. In all my lives, in this one and in the next one, too.” The first tear slips down your cheek as you look up at him. “I promise I’ll find you again, Logan. I always do.”
You press a kiss to his mouth, soft and gentle. It lingers for a moment, a desperate, bittersweet exchange as Logan tries to memorize the feel of you. His hands grip your waist, clutching almost hard enough to bruise, but you relish the pain.
Wade stands beside you both, uncharacteristically silent, his hands still holding Cassandra in place. His usual banter is gone, the weight of the moment not lost on him. “This is the worst fucking idea anyone has ever had,” he mutters, but his tone is soft. “And I’ve had some pretty terrible ideas.”
Cassandra regards you with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “If I let them go, you’ll stay here with me in the Void. Be my ally.”
You nod, “Yes.”
Cassandra’s eyes narrow, calculating, weighing her options. Finally she sighs, “Fine. But you know…no one will remember this little sacrifice of yours. The next Logan won’t even know you.”
Logan growls and you squeeze his hand in gentle reassurance. “It’s okay,” you whisper, your voice finally breaking. “I’ll remember enough for the both of us.”
You step away from Logan, your heart shattering with every step. Wade lets go of Cassandra and you feel the weight of your decision settle heavily against your shoulders.
Cassandra pulls something from her pocket, slipping it onto her fingers. Before you, a portal opens up, just outside the boundaries of the room. Outside, the raging storm that is Alioth grows near and in that moment, you realize Cassandra was playing a game of her own.
“I figure,” she says, straightening the lapels of her jacket, “that they have approximately four seconds before they’re through.”
Your eyes flick to Logan and you memorize every detail, every emotion written across his face. With one final nod, he tears his gaze from you and he runs towards the portal, Wade alongside him.
And then, darkness consumes all.
+++
You’re unsure how long you’ve been out. The last thing you remember was Alioth screaming towards you, giving you barely enough time to cocoon yourself from his rage.
Cassandra is gone.
Wade is gone.
And Logan—Logan is gone.
You open your eyes and find Remy standing above you. He offers you his hand and helps you to stand. “C’mon, chère,” he says, nodding towards the open portal behind him, “Let’s go home.”
You’re not sure where home is any more, not without Logan, but you don’t have the strength to argue. From the moment you wound up here in the Void, you’ve been looking for a way out. Now that you have one, you know you need to take it.
Accepting Remy’s hand, you join him through the portal.
You stumble into a familiar room and are greeted warmly by a smiling TVA agent. She’s unlike the first TVA agent you met, her presence comforting as she says your name. “We heard you’ve had quite the adventure.” She looks over towards Remy. “Mr. LeBeau, if you’ll follow this agent here.”
Remy leaves with he other agent, turning towards you with a wink. “Enjoy your man for me, yeah?”
Your heart flutters in your chest and you look towards the agent, trying to suppress the hope you feel in your chest. She smiles and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder. From her pocket she pulls out a small device, pressing a few buttons on the pad. Before you a different portal opens and she gestures towards it.
“Welcome home.”
+++
You stand in front of the apartment door and hesitate before knocking. Your nerves flutter uncomfortably in your belly even though it’s been less than two days since you last saw Logan in the Void. But you’re out now—you both are—and the fear nags at you that maybe this isn’t what he wants. That you aren’t what he wants.
You stuff that thought down with a shake of your head. Raising your hand, you rap against the door three times and let out a shaky breath. When he opens the door, you feel as if the air has left your lungs and you forget to breathe. Your heart aches at the sight of him.
Logan stops short, his face falling into one of pure disbelief and all he can do is stare at you.
“Is that my stripper?” you hear Wade call from farther into the apartment. Logan continues to stare at you as Wade pops up behind him, his face lighting up in surprise. “Oh, hey cupcake! Didn’t expect to—“
“Get out,” Logan growls, turning his head slightly in Wade’s direction, his eyes never leaving yours.
From over Logan’s shoulder, Wade wiggles his eyebrows. “Ah, looking for some afternoon delight?” he coos, slinging his arm over Logan’s shoulder and patting his chest. “This guy has been jerkin’ it constan—“
You hear the sknit of Logan’s claws as they unsheathe into Wade’s thighs. “Ah, fuck! Fuck!” Wade curses. “You’re supposed to be penetrating her, not me!”
“Get. Out,” Logan repeats, retracting his claws.
“Fine.” Wade pushes past Logan’s frame, limping slightly as his wounds heal themselves. “You’re lucky Blind Al’s already out playing Bingo. Or selling herself for blow. I don’t actually know her schedule,” he comments as he walks down the hallway. “Glad you’re home, cupcake.”
Logan barely waits until Wade is out of sight before tugging at the hem of your shirt and pulling you towards him. Your gasp dies on your lips as he drags you inside, shutting the door with his foot and pushing you up against the rough wood. Then his mouth is on yours and it’s warm and wet and wonderful.
His hands cup your face, fingers moving to tangle in your hair and you feel him everywhere. You whine as he nips lightly at your chin before trailing his lips back up your jaw, licking into your mouth as he kisses you deep.
Your fingers scramble for purchase, fisting themselves into the fabric of his button-down flannel.
There’s a desperation and urgency bleeding from him, as if he can’t drink you in fast enough, or hard enough, or long enough to satiate the longing that’s within him. And you’re feeling it too, an ache growing deeper in your belly, a need to be consumed by him fully and you whine into his mouth because he’s not nearly close enough to you.
A thigh slips between your legs as he kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, a moan falling from your lips as you greedily seek friction.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Logan husks against your shoulder, pulling your hips harder against his clothed thigh.
Your hands cup the sides of his face, your fingers scratching lightly against his beard. You force him to look at you, his pupils blown wide. “I always come to you,” you say softly. “I always come home.”
He kisses you softly then, his mouth slow over yours and he drops his thigh from between your leg. You whine at the loss and he pulls back. “C’mere,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you further into he apartment. “I’m not fucking you for the first time against a door.”
You follow him to the bedroom, your chest heaving with ragged breaths and you can feel the prickle of anticipation along your spine as he turns back to look at you. His eyes never leave yours as he shrugs off the flannel and pulls his t-shirt over his head. Your eyes trace the lines of his chest, the strong definition of his muscles, following the line of hair that leads to the top of his jeans. As you bite your lip, you hear his chuckle, “My eyes are up here.”
“Mmm, yeah they are,” you start, tugging your shirt off and shimmying your pants over your hips, “but the view down there is nice, too.”
Logan reaches for you, his large hands skimming over your hips, over the flesh of your ass and under your thighs, lifting you up and forcing your to wrap your legs around his waist. With an easy flick of his fingers, he’s unclasped your bra and you toss it aside with the rest of your clothes.
Kneeling on the bed, he lays you down, kissing his way down your stomach, his nose nuzzling along the top of your panties. “Do you have any fucking idea how sweet you smell?” His mouth is hot against your skin and he laughs as you tilt your hips up towards him. “You want me to fuck you with my tongue? Lap at you until you’re seeing stars?”
Molten desire shoots down your spine and you can feel the slick between your thighs. God, the mouth on him was going to be the death of you.
You prop yourself up onto your elbows and look down at him. “Just fucking touch me already,” you whine, and you hate how desperate you sound. “Haven’t we waited long enough?”
He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to your inner thigh before dragging his nose along the center of your clothed cunt. You inhale sharply as he kisses over your clit before trailing his fingers along your hip bones and pulling the fabric down. His warm hands palm along your thighs and he opens you up, staring down at you with hunger in his eyes. And then his mouth is on you, his tongue licking a hot stripe through your folds before sucking your clit into his mouth.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan as his mouth continues to lap at you, pleasure tingling low in your belly and spreading through your limbs.
Logan hums. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart.” His tongue dips down, collecting the arousal at your entrance. “I could die happy between these thighs.”
You trail your hands down over your chest, briefly palming each breast before you continue down and sink your fingers into Logan’s hair. His groan rumbles through you and you don’t miss the way his hips start to rut against the mattress, seeking friction.
His mouth and tongue continue to move over you, long, slow licks punctuated by gentle sucks and flicks over your clit and you can’t stop the grind of your hips against his face. You feel his smirk against you as one thick finger finally sinks inside your walls, nudging that spot deep inside that makes you squirm.
Another finger slips inside you and a low whine spills from your lips.
“You’re beautiful like this, you know that,” he says, voice rough, thumb replacing his tongue against your clit as his fingers continue pumping. “All blissed out and needy and desperate to come on my fingers.”
His words zip through you as he fuck you with his hand and you bite your lip. “C’mon,” he purrs, “let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.”
Soft whimpers spill from your throat as he continues to work you, that pull in your lower belly growing stronger and stronger. His hand never stilling, he kisses his way up your body, pulling a nipple into his mouth and then you’re coming, cunt clenching around his fingers.
Logan licks into your mouth to steal your cries as he continues to work you through your orgasm. Your thighs clamp around his forearm, the pleasure overwhelming.
He finally stills, pulling his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. You watch through half lidded eyes as he licks his fingers clean of your slick and you feel that flame reignite in your belly.
“Take your pants off,” you demand, breathless, pushing at his chest.
Logan laughs, but allows you to push him onto his back. “You always so bossy after you come?”
You fumble at his belt, undoing his buckle and unzipping his jeans before shoving them down his hips. “Make me do it again and find out,” you taunt as his cock springs free.
He kicks his pants the rest of the way off and you sit back on your heels and admire him for a moment. Your eyes trail from his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest and follow that line of hair down his stomach to between his thighs, where his cock stands, thick and ready.
“I will never get tired of looking at you,” you sigh, raking your nails down his thighs, deliberately not touching him where you know he wants it the most. “You’re so beautiful, Logan.”
Whatever response he has, dies in his throat as you finally wrap your hand around his cock, giving him one long, firm stroke. He’s hot and heavy and you’re aching to feel him inside you. But not yet. Leaning down, your eyes meet his and you trace your tongue along the underside of his cock, tasting the salt on his skin.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Logan curses, unable to stop the thrust of his hips, chasing your mouth.
You wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue over the slit and collecting the precum there before taking as much of him in your mouth as you can. Logan hisses through his teeth, fingers winding their way into your hair to help guide your movements.
“You’re so warm and wet, sweetheart,” he groans. “But I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
You give him one last stroke as you release him from your mouth and climb up to sit on his thighs. Logan pulls you forward by your hips and you gasp as your cunt slides across his cock.
“Line me up,” he instructs and you obey without hesitation.
Gripping him in your hand, you guide him to your entrance, notching him inside before slowly sinking down atop him. A sob chokes in your throat at the thick feel of him inside you, stretching you, making you feel complete. Your entire existence boils down to where he’s joined with you and you relish the burn.
His hands are everywhere as you start to move, caressing your thighs, your hips, up to your breasts and back down, tracing a map on your skin only his fingers can read. Praise falls from his lips in an almost nonstop litany, telling you how wet you are, how tight, how warm, how good you’re making him feel.
“Do you want to know how you make me feel?” you ask, breathless. You look down at him through half lidded eyes and find him just as flushed and wanton as you. “How you’ve always made me feel?”
You continue to rock back and forth on his cock, slow, deliberate movements that leave you wanting, needing more. Logan shifts his hips and finds the leverage to fuck up into you, the deep drag of his cock against your walls making you throw your head back and moan.
“Fuck,” he growls, his fingers sinking deeper into the flesh of your hips, pulling you somehow impossibly closer. “Show me, sweetheart.”
You brace your hands against his chest, raking your fingers through the damp hair there, feeling his heart beat beneath your palms. Leaning down, you capture his mouth with yours, the kiss sloppy as he continues to thrust up into you. You move your hands up his neck, your fingers collecting the sweat along his jaw and then, “Feel, Logan.”
It starts slow, an almost faint heat spreading from your fingertips as they ghost over his skin, your power beginning to pulse in time with your heartbeat. Logan gasps and his rhythm falters as the first wave of emotion hits him. You slow, too, your hips barely moving as you run your fingers down from his jaw, over the column of his throat and back to his chest.
Your palms rest against his ribs as you continue to pour into him all the love and passion he’s ever shown you over centuries. Logan stares up at you in reverence, his face soft as he runs his hands up your sides, over your breasts. He tugs you down towards him, his mouth hovering over yours.
“Do you feel, Logan,” you ask, your breath hot against his lips. “Do you feel how much you love you have in you?”
He draws your bottom lip into his mouth, biting softly once, before capturing your mouth fully, kissing you deep. You hum as his tongue swipes against yours and his fingers tangle in your hair.
A gasp pulls from your throat as Logan wraps his arms around you and flips your position, forcing your legs around his waist as he begins to thrust into you again in earnest. You feel him deep in this position, each thrust of his cock against your walls hitting that perfect spot inside of you.
“It’s too much,” he groans into your skin. “Never…never felt like this.”
You rake your nails along his back, relishing in the growl that falls from this throat. “It always feels like this,” you gasp, drawing your power back.
His arms slide under your shoulders, anchoring you in place as his hips continue to thrust into you. It’s lewd almost, the slapping of skin against skin and the wet noises from where you’re joined. His breath is hot and damp against your skin where his mouth hovers over the pulse point in your neck.
Your fingers snake into the short strands of hair at the back of his neck and your other hand slips in between your bodies, reaching for your clit.
“That’s it,” he moans, “use those fingers to get yourself off on my cock.”
You can feel where he’s sliding thickly into your cunt, the wiry hairs at the base of his cock damp with your arousal, and you begin to rub in time with his thrusts. Pleasure zips along your spine, every cell in your body afire at his touch. You feel that telltale tug low in your belly and you know you’re not going to last much longer.
He slides his hands down from your shoulders, following the curve of your spine, forcing you to arch your back. Taking the opportunity before him, he swirls his tongue over one nipple, then the other as he palms the flesh of your hips in his hands, angling your hips further up into his. A keening whine falls from your lips as he somehow thrusts deeper into you, making your legs shake.
Logan nudges your hand away from your clit, replacing your fingers with his own as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. His eyes are focused on the sight of his cock thrusting into you and the slick smeared across your thighs.
“Logan,” you gasp, “I’m so close.”
“I know, sweetheart,” he rasps, dragging his gaze up to your face, “I got you. Takin’ me so well, so tight. Gonna spend the rest of my life tellin’ you how fucking good you are.”
His words tip you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you as you spasm down on his cock, his name falling from your lips. He fucks you through your orgasm, each thrust of his hips sending aftershocks of pleasure along your limbs as he chases his own release. Logan’s thrusts grow erratic and you reach for him, grasping at his forearms, pulling him down to you.
“Come for me, Logan,” you murmur in his ear. “I wanna feel you come.”
With one final thrust, he comes with a groan, forehead pressed against yours as he spills himself deep within you. You can feel cock spasm as he lazily thrusts through his orgasm, using your body to wring out the last of his pleasure. You hold him close, pressing open mouthed kisses to his jaw as he finally stills within you.
Careful not to crush you, Logan pulls you to him as he rolls onto his side. He doesn’t pull out, tugging your leg over his hip to keep you close and full.
You smile up at him, brushing the damp hair away from his forehead. He sighs at your touch, a content sound that tugs at your heart.
“You really love me in every universe?” he asks softly, brushing his nose against yours.
“Yes.”
“Even this one?”
“Especially this one.”
You don’t know what the rest of this life holds, but you do know one thing—wherever he goes, you’ll be right there with him.
This did wonders for my love of vengeance😈
mercy upon ourselves
See my full list of works here!
Summary: Your multiversal duty of punishing perpetrators of infidelity in their afterlife takes an interesting turn when you see that the betrayed party is one of your variants | loose 'sequel' to 'all will be alright in time'
Pairing: Loki (God of Stories/Time) x Reader; Will Ransome x Reader (different Reader)
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: 18+ | talks of infidelity; steamy moments at the end; (technically) mass murder; Cora Seaborne (yeah she's a warning); Will Ransome (in this case he needs to be a warning, too) [let me know if i missed anything!]
Things to be aware of: this loosely takes place in the RTC 'multiverse', but no prior reading of the series is required; Reader is the goddess of fidelity
Dick-tionary: steamy moments (but not outright smut) starts at "Loki let out a low chuckle"
Your duty as goddess of fidelity, in theory, was simple enough. Upon the death of a betrayer, you were to choose their punishment in their eternal afterlife. After your first few thousand cases, they all began to meld into the same old tale, often feeling as if they all even wore the same face.
That was until this particular story. Where the face of the deceased and betrayed wife held…your own.
Before you could even call out to him, Loki was by your side in a heartbeat, laying his hands gently on your shoulders and pressing a kiss to the back of your head. "I can sense your unease, little Princess. What troubles you?"
Together you looked through the glowing branches that surrounded you, each telling the story of a different timeline, a different universe. Until you finally found the one which held the case you needed to review. The universe where your echo had died of a broken heart upon learning that your husband, Loki's echo in the form of a Reverend William Ransome, betrayed you to have an entanglement with a newcomer in your quaint village of Aldwinter.
"This is no variant of mine," your husband seethed. "I could never belittle our love like this, the thought alone pains me."
You took his hand in yours, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I know, husband. This timeline is simply…a fluke. Our echoes, our variants? They are not reflections of ourselves. His flaws and failures are not your burden to bear."
"Failure," he repeated, his top lip curling up in a sneer as he looked upon the faces of his variant and his mistress, living together under the same roof, sleeping in the very bed that your variant breathed her last. "That is precisely what this branch is. Perhaps it should just drift away…to wither and rot."
"Loki we should not punish an entire universe for the mistake of one man. There are still countless lives within this branch--"
"And your variant is no longer one of them because of the mistake of his one man. He deserves to suffer."
"And he will," you reassured him. "His suffering falls within my purview. It is my Norns-given duty to see to it. And while I know we both would relish in watching as this pathetic coward of a man sees the end of days upon him, I cannot in good conscience have it be at the cost of an entire universe. But perhaps the village that was complicit…the village that stayed silent to protect their precious reverend's reputation."
"What do you have in mind, my love?" He pulled you close to him, embracing you from behind, hands caressing your sides. Soothing himself from the unease of seeing how his variant dared take you for granted.
I was made to be yours. Words that resonated so deeply into both your souls. Words he used when he first confessed his love to you. The same words you yourself uttered when your memory spell had broken and you found him that fateful day eons ago.
The same words you both used within your new vows when he returned to you. And used ever since.
And somehow this insipid trifling man thought himself above those words? Dare even spit them back in the face of the same entities that weaved your two souls together so intricately that it bled through every timeline and universe known to him?
All the suffering in the Nine Realms would not be enough for this William Ransome as far as he was concerned.
"Well, husband, we are in a rather…unique circumstance," you mused aloud, a little sound of contentment slipping from your lips when he pressed a kiss to your temple. "I bear the same face as this Y/N Ransome…and they reside in a town that is riddled with a rather superstitious lot. And my variant…she deserves her revenge, does she not?"
Had it not been for the gloomier and grayer than usual state of the sky, it seemed a typical day in Aldwinter. It had been years since the spectacle that was your passing occurred, and the townsfolk had finally began to warm to the presence of Cora Seaborne. Sure, she and William would still get looks out of the corners of their eyes, especially when she would emerge from the house in a dress that people could have sworn was yours, but other than that, no one made any trouble for them.
Not to their face. Not anymore.
The cold heaviness of regret had made itself at home in the pit of your widower's stomach ever since that day, the day that he betrayed you. No amount of rationalizing could have him absolve himself of his sin. Any which way he went with his internal arguments, they would all land in the same place.
The blame fell entirely on him. And he would have to live with the consequences of what he'd done for the rest of his days.
In the form of the tombstone that would steadily erode with the passing of time.
And in the form of the new family he was all but strong armed into taking on, if only to spare himself more scandal and ridicule. He'd already lost the respect of a good number of the congregation, this would smite the number down to a paltry handful if he turned his back on his then pregnant mistress.
Though despite all their efforts at maintaining what they thought they'd found with each other, they had lost the babe. Twice. As if God Himself willed it so that no child would ever result from their treachery. A fitting punishment, as far as Will was concerned.
Love may not have been a weakness, but lust most definitely was. Lust was what drove him to commit the treachery that led to the loss of love.
He should have resisted. Walked away. Ran, even.
Perhaps if he had, you would still be here, serving as a bright ray of sunlight even in the dark gray overcast over your little town. Perhaps your children wouldn't have turned their backs on him and he would be allowed the privilege of getting to see them build their own families, lead their own lives.
Instead all he had was darkness and silence. And he had no one to blame but himself.
"William!" Cora's shriek traveled across the marshes.
Moments like these, he preferred the darkness and silence.
He tried to take in a breath before turning to face her, the picture of a doting partner. "What is it, Cora?"
"The look--the looking glass, I saw--"
Her stammering was cut short by the sound of Matthew frantically ringing the alarm bell. "TIDE INCOMING! EVERYONE GO INSIDE! GET TO SAFETY!"
One of the fishermen in the approaching boats stumbled forward until he fell limp in the reverend's arms. "The waves, they be the size of mountains. Bigger even. God is angry with us."
"No," Matthew wheezed, coughing out sea water. "That wasn't God, out there in the waters. Not our God. That was some sorceress, some witch. Demoness. We must find safety." He began to usher every villager he could find into the church. "She don't look like the type that shows mercy."
"She?" Cora spoke, pointing a shaky finger at the curate. "You…saw her face? Tell me does she look like--"
"Enough talk about the evil looming in on us, Mrs Seaborne!" he snapped, pointing his finger at the Ransome house. "Go home. May this evil, whoever and whatever she may be, have mercy on us all."
"What was that, Cora?" Will hissed as they made their way home. "You look completely beside yourself."
"I could have sworn I saw Y/N's face in the looking glass," she said shakily, gulping for breath, shuddering when she said your name aloud once more. "Will, she looked angry. Vengeful."
"You're not making any sense, Y/N is gone," he said tersely, a familiar lump forming at the back of his throat as he forced himself to acknowledge your absence from his life. He ushered her along, trying to ensure that she at least would not stumble too harshly. "I laid her into the ground myself, gave her eulogy."
"I know," she huffed. "But I also know what I saw, that was no hallucination, Will--"
"I've read texts that there are some pregnancies that alter with the minds, the perception of the expectant mother. Perhaps this is simply one of those cases," he waved off. "Look, Cora we're almost home. We can wait out the storm and then when this is all over you can rest. We all can."
She simply nodded and they cross the marshes back to their home, only to find Francis, pale as freshly pressed cardstock, awaiting them by the door. "Mother, F-Father, there's a woman--" he sputtered out, pointing at the open door.
And then you stepped out. "There you are. Cowards."
William's heart stopped in his chest watching you walk out of your old home, what seemed to be billowing fabric drenched and clinging to your skin, hugging every curve that his hands had longed for since your passing. Even soaking wet, your dress proudly gleamed a brilliant emerald green, and there was a glow that seemed to radiate from underneath your skin.
You were no longer of this earth. You were something…more. Something above them all. And it showed in the way you held yourself, in your gaze as you looked upon the marshes that held your former home. As you looked upon the husband that survived you, your upper lip curling in derision as you saw the bump protruding from Cora's stomach.
"Y/N…" he whispered your name, your sheer presence bringing him to his knees. "Sweet wife, you have returned--"
"Hold that rancid thought," you silenced him, raising your hand in the air as if grasping for something. In an instant, his words ceased, feeling as if his tongue had swollen and became as heavy as lead in his mouth. "You do not get to call me your wife, Reverend Ransome. Not since you sullied your vows and laid with this London whore."
Cora took a step toward you, opening her mouth as if to defend herself, or perhaps her lover. But you put a stop to that as well, raising your other hand in her direction, and suddenly she was forced to sink to her knees as well. "Please, Y/N," she pleaded with you. "Let us take this inside there is a tide coming--"
"Do you mean this tide, friend?" you spat the last word out, as if it tasted bitter on your tongue. Suddenly the tide was steadily approaching the shore, rising to a height that would completely engulf and decimate Aldwinter once it bore down on them. And you rose from the ground, floating well above the roof of the Ransome home, the reverend, along with his lover and her son, looking up at you in sheer horror.
"What do you want from us?!" Francis yelled into the sky, reminding you of how mortal worshippers would look to the sky and beg the gods for explanations. For miracles.
"I do not wish for you to give me anything, young Mr Seaborne. In fact, I wish to offer you all…a choice." You turned your gaze to the kneeling couple. "Get in the water. And perhaps I shall spare this town."
"Y/N please, this town is full of innocent lives, no matter what has happened to you I know in my heart that you would never wreak this kind of devastation upon--"
"What has happened to me?!" you repeated, your shrieking tone piercing even through the deafening sound of the tidal wave still standing tall, waiting to descend. "Your lustful indiscretion cost an innocent life, William Ransome. There is no innocent life in this town. Not anymore. The people here chose to stay silent, to keep your affair a secret for the sake of preventing a scandal. Though that didn't seem to work out the way you'd hoped, did it?" You motioned toward the wave with a jerk of your head again. "Get in the water."
The wave grew even more violent, already taking in the fishing boats and pulling it into its dark abyss.
They both stubbornly stayed still, still kneeling on the muddy marsh ground staying silent. The tramp's hand twitched toward the vicar's, but his moved upward, as if wishing to reach for you.
It was always you, she realized bitterly. She may have him now, but only as a result of his momentary lapse in good judgment where his body chose another's. But his heart…his heart would always choose you.
When presented with any semblance of a choice, Will Ransome would crawl back to you on his hands and knees in a heartbeat. And now she must lie on the bed she made. The bed they both made.
Only when you pointed toward her son, her dear Francis, and he was lifted up from the ground, kicking and struggling in mid-air, did both of them make a noise. Calling out to you, pleading for you to put him down and stop the madness. "This is the last time I will repeat myself, adulterers. Get in the water. Or your boy here suffers first."
"Y/N, stop this," Cora spoke, rising to her feet. "Are you not tired? It has been so long, years, even. Francis was still just a little boy when you last saw him. He is a grown man now, how long will you let anger consume you?"
Even from this distance, you could see the ire in Will's features, clearly ticked off with the words that came out of his lover's mouth. "My darling, please. What must I do to atone for my transgressions towards you? I will promise you anything, do anything. Whatever you wish for, it's yours, please can we just go home?"
You lowered both Francis Seaborne and yourself down to the ground, the young man running immediately to his mother, quivering like a leaf in the wind. The disgraced vicar reached his arms out toward you, every muscle tensing and freezing in place when you rose your hand into the air again. "It is the actions of philanderers like you that make the mortals look down on me, consider me a lesser god."
"God?" Cora repeated in a sharp exhale. "Don't be ridiculous, Y/N--"
"Fools like you don't realize what awaits you on the other side of your mortality, where the fate of your eternal afterlife…falls to me," you cut her off, not bothering to hide the smirk that tugged at the corner of your mouth. "Adulterers doomed to suffer an endless loop of the consequences of their actions."
"My wife--"
"Is dead, Mister Ransome," you bellowed. From the corner of your eye you could see villagers gathering at their windows, the horror in their expressions as they began to speculate on what exactly had come to terrorize their quaint little town. "You killed her, there is no use in denying it. Your foolish, licentious choices brought her to her grave. For that alone, you will suffer once your feeble human life reaches its conclusion."
"If you are not Y/N Ransome, then who are you?" Francis asked, voice shaking as he held on to his mother. "Why have you come to wreak havoc in our lives?"
You walked toward the town's vicar, tears in his eyes as he watched you move closer. He reached for your hands, looking like a wounded pup when you swatted him away. "I am the goddess of fidelity," you answered simply. "When betrayers like you and your mistress cease your time on this mortal plane, you and everyone complicit in your torrid affair will be at my mercy."
The tide rose even higher, looming menacingly over the town in a dangerous arch, blocking out what little light they once had from the sun beyond the clouds. You grasped William's chin harshly, fear evident in his eyes, heart thundering against his chest.
"But your actions, your infidelity in particular…upset my husband," you spoke, holding his gaze as you hissed the words inches from his face. "And for that, I am willing to bend the rules and begin your suffering ahead of time. Put forth the events that will thrust your pathetic souls upon my doorstep."
You rose from the ground again, rage for your fallen variant coursing through you as you heard them plead for forgiveness. For mercy.
"P-Please Y/N…" Cora sputtered out. "I will leave the town and no one will ever hear from me again, just please let me leave with my boy."
"No," you droned. "You have asked what you can do to atone, I presented you with a choice. Now I know how capable you both are of making choices, you've made several together, some of them even on the very ground you stand on. Which leads me to believe…you have made your choice. Stubbornly bargaining your way out of my wrath, out of your suffering. At the cost of this town you call home."
"You truly aren't Y/N Ransome, are you?" she spat out, a look of entitled indignance on her face. "The Y/N I knew wouldn't be this ruthless. She would have shown mercy--"
"Oh but I am showing mercy, you unworthy tart," you spat back. "For ruthlessness is mercy. Upon ourselves." With a flick of your wrist, the tidal wave was finally let loose.
And the little town of Aldwinter sunk into the water.
Before the tsunami crashed down and took you with it, Loki conjured a portal and pulled you back to safety, a bit of water splashing into your bedchambers before it closed. With a wave of his magic the water evaporated into the air, and your soaked dress was dried.
"Husband…" you spoke, a wide smile gracing your features when your eyes met his. You both were on the floor, the god cradling you in his arms as he pushed your hair away from your face.
"My darling wife," he breathed out, his own smile mirroring yours as he picked you up in his arms, carrying you to the bed. "Your flair for the dramatic has you reckless as ever."
He sat you on the edge of the bed, handing you a goblet of wine that did a quick job of warming you and canceling out the effects of the damp cold of Aldwinter.
"You should rest, my love," he said softly, moving to position himself behind you to undo the braids in your hair, carefully working his fingers through the wet strands. "This is the first time you wielded your newfound powers as a goddess, I can imagine your body feels overworked…and famished."
As if on cue, your stomach grumbled, causing your husband to chuckle and press a tender kiss to your cheek. "How did you know when to pull me back?"
"To start, I must admit that I was watching the spectacular show you put on, avenging your variant with such vigor," he whispered into your skin. His hands found their way to your shoulders, working away at the knots. "And our souls' threads are intertwined, little Princess. I can always feel when you need me. I was made to be yours."
"And I yours," you sighed contendedly, leaning against him when he wrapped his arms around you. When he cupped the side of your face, holding you as he pressed his lips to yours, you all but melted into his embrace. "I love you," you mumbled against his lips.
"And I love you," he murmured, continuing to kiss your lips as he maneuvered you to lie down on the bed. With a wave of his hand, the fabric that covered your skin changed to something much lighter, more sheer. One of your sleeping gowns, you surmised. "Rest, dear heart. I shall arrange for food to be brought to us for when you wake."
Your body was all too eager to obey the softly spoken command. The rest of you, however…well, after the ordeal in that despondent village on Midgard, the rest of you ached for your husband's touch. To wash away the muck of the marshes.
Loki let out a low chuckle, kissing along your clavicle as his hand roamed the side of your body. "I can always feel when you need me," he repeated, his tone holding a much more lustful intent than moments earlier. "And much as I want nothing more than to indulge in making love to my beautiful wife, I cannot, should not, be so selfish and ignore her body's need for rest." He made his way to your lips, allowing himself the tiniest sliver of decadence as he licked into your mouth. "You'll need your strength for what I want to do you later tonight."
Your breath hitched as images flashed in your mind of your husband teasing and pleasuring you, claiming your body repeatedly well until after the sun rose the next morning. In multiple places throughout your marital chambers. Constantly finding or making the time to bring you to orgasm in the midst of pampering you.
Suddenly it made sense why he would choose to deny you now…in exchange for a much more delicious reward just a few short hours away.
"Would you stay regardless, husband?" you asked weakly, already feeling yourself succumbing to the exhaustion and the slumber that your plush sheets promised. "Hold me?"
You weren't able to see the loving smile that graced your husband's face from your request. You only felt the soft kiss on your forehead before he positioned you to lay in his arms. "Gladly, my darling." He conjured a book into his free hand, ready to begin reading to you when a stray question entered his mind. "What of their souls, Y/N? What hellscape did you design for them?"
"I gave them what they deserve," you grumbled, shifting your position to hold him closer, your arm draping over his stomach as you laid your head on his chest. "Each other. They are doomed to spend their afterlife together, with Cora knowing that his heart longs for his late wife. And William having to watch from the sidelines as my variant finds new love. You have a stray echo that never found his fated, by the name of Pine. I presume by now they've found each other, starting a story of their own."
A/N: Hang on what's this…? Did I tease a future story at the end there? 😳 Why yes…yes I did 🤭 Ngl this year felt like I didn't get a whole lotta stories done especially in the latter half, but hopefully with everything finding a bit of balance, 2025 will look a bit different and I can set aside more time for story writing 💖
Ooh, and also I def got the idea to make this because of the "Get in the Water" song
'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified @tom-hlover @dryyoursaltyoceantears @herdetectivetheorist @alexakeyloveloki
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