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[just-dreaming-marvel-2]

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[unlikeable-female-character]

Trilogy Logan and Reader - Exile part 8

Finally! Another part of this! I have actually split this in two as it was just getting loooong

Warnings: :Logan is shot 😮

****

You spent the next few weeks watching Logan and trying to decide if it was worth the risk of letting him back into your heart.  To his credit, he continued to teach and to take it seriously, even impressing Scott, which was a surprise to all involved.  Also to his credit, Logan didn’t push things with you.  He was kind and attentive, but he didn’t try and force you into a decision you weren’t yet ready to make.  In fact, it was everyone else who couldn’t seem to be patient with you. 

‘No, I haven’t decided anything yet,’ you sighed. 

You’d just finished a training session with Ororo and were heading back to the locker room when she, oh so casually, asked about Logan. 

‘He’s being very un-Logan like,’ she pointed out, ‘positively pleasant at times.’ 

You smiled but inside that worried you.  You didn’t want him to try and be a different person, some fake persona just to try and impress you.  On the other hand, the old Logan, while he may have been the one you fell in love with was also the one who hurt you.  It was a quandary. 

‘What would you do?’ You asked, sitting down on a bench.  

She paused for a moment then sat beside you.  

‘Give him another chance.’ 

‘Really?’ 

‘I’ve never had anyone drive for three days straight from Canada to come and sit by my bedside,’ she said simply.  

‘Maybe not but he also started a fight and broke someone’s jaw,’ you pointed out.  

Ororo was quiet. You sighed. You knew that no one was sorry about what Logan did to Marcus. In fact you’d heard some of the students and even a few teachers relating the story in positively gleeful tones. Marcus might have been an asshole but he didn’t deserve that. Not to mention it had taken all of Charles’ influence to persuade him not to press charges.  ‘Logan’s gonna Logan’ was what Ororo said that night but Logan being Logan sometimes got people hurt.  You chewed on your lip. 

‘I need to think about it more,’ you said and headed off to get changed.  

Later that week you were leaving your classroom when you heard someone calling your name. You turned to see Logan walking along the hallway towards you. He had a piece of paper in his hand.  

‘Hey,’ he said, stopping in front of you, ’was in town earlier and saw this.’  

He handed you a flyer. There was a production of Much Ado About Nothing being performed in the park.  

‘I don’t know if your class is studying that but thought you’d like to know.’ 

‘They’re not but thank you. I love that one.’ 

‘What’s it about?’ 

You looked at the flyer and then up and Logan and gave a rueful smile.  

‘Two of the main characters spend most of the play fighting each other and fighting their feelings for each other.’ 

‘Huh,’ Logan laughed, ‘sounds familiar.’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

You looked at the flyer again. 

‘’Let me be that I am and seek not to alter me’’ you said quietly. 

‘What?’ 

‘Oh it’s something the villain in the play says.  He’s kind of...unapologetic about being the bad guy, he’s going to be who he is and doesn’t care what people think.’ 

‘Huh.’ 

You were quiet for a while then looked at Logan. 

‘Do you want to come and see it with me?’ 

‘You said you weren’t studying it.’ 

‘We’re not but I don’t mean as a chaperone, as, you know, a date,’ you shrugged, ‘I know it’s not really your thing but you liked the last play so...’ 

‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I’d like that.’ 

He plucked the flyer out of your hands. 

‘I get some tickets,’ he said and smiled at you before walking off. 

You watched him go.   You hoped that you weren’t making a mistake.  Just because he liked one play, years ago, didn’t mean the same thing would happen again.   

When the day of the play, of your date with Logan, arrived, you were confused at how nervous you were.  Stop being ridiculous, you told yourself, you’ve been on hundreds of dates with the man, slept with him countless times too.  This you knew, but this was so different.  This felt like starting anew and you were desperate for it to go well.  You weren’t sure what the options were if it didn’t. 

With the play being performed in the open air, Logan had collected up a couple of blankets for you to take with you in case the weather changed and things turned chilly.  You saw them on the kitchen table along with a small cooler. 

‘What’s in there?’ 

Logan smiled. 

‘Just a little picnic, in case we get hungry.’ 

‘In case you get hungry you mean,’ you said nudging.  Logan’s appetite was rarely sated and you realised you’d made no plans for dinner after the play, ‘Sorry I should have thought of food.’ 

‘Not a problem,’ he said, then looked over at you, ‘sweetheart, let’s just go and watch the play and worry about what happens after after.  Alright?’ 

You nodded and helped Logan put the blankets and such in his truck. 

At the outdoors theatre you found a good spot and settled down.  Logan had spread one of the blankets out and settled back as the play started.  You found yourself watching him as much as the play.  While he started laying back and looking like he wasn’t interested, soon you saw him sitting up and forward, his attention entirely focused on the play. 

‘Hey,’ you heard him whisper at one point. 

‘Hmm?’ 

‘This guy, Claudio, is he really that dumb?’ 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘He doesn’t question if Hero cheated on him, he just took some other prick’s word for it?’ 

You smiled. 

‘It’s not his finest hour, no,’ you smiled. 

When Beatrice delivers her line to Benedict, imploring him to ‘Kill Claudio’, you heard Logan mutter ‘damn right, sweetheart’ and you couldn’t help but smile. 

After the play had ended you and Logan started to pack up your things and head back to the truck.   

‘So what did you think?’ you said, as you followed the crowds. 

‘It was good,’ Logan said, ‘I liked Benedict and Beatrice.’ 

‘They’re my favourites as well.’ 

‘That guy really just fucked everything up for the fun of it?’ 

‘Don John?  Pretty much, yeah.  Well, that’s how I’ve always interpreted it.’ 

Logan quirked a brow. 

‘Figures.  Some people are just assholes.’ 

‘They are.’ 

You reached the truck and Logan opened the door for you.  As you got in, you looked at him. 

‘What’s on your mind?’  

He had an unusually thoughtful look on his face. 

‘There was a line,’ he stood and thought for a moment, ‘’For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?’’ 

You were impressed that he remembered the line but that wasn’t what made you smile. 

‘You want to know what made me fall in love with you?’ 

He grinned and got into the driver’s seat. 

‘Yeah I do.’ 

‘The bad parts?  That’s a long list, Logan.’ 

He let out a laugh and started the truck.  You chatted happily all the way back to the mansion.  The evening felt like it had been a success, as much as such things can be measured, and you felt happy and comfortable with Logan in a way that you hadn’t for a while.  As he drove along, you watched him.  He’d made no demands, had no expectations for what else might happen that night, hadn’t even made any attempt to touch you or hold your hand.  You sat back and enjoyed the rest of the ride home. 

Back at the mansion, you took the cooler back to the kitchen, jumping a little at the sight of Jean, Ororo and Scott all sat around the table. 

‘What are you all doing?’ you asked. 

‘Just enjoying a cup of tea,’ Jean said, and very purposefully sipped at the mug in her hand.  Logan, coming in behind you, snorted. 

‘Spying on us you mean,’ he said. 

‘We’d never!’ Ororo protested. 

‘Hmmm,’ you said, and turned to Logan, ‘thank you for a lovely evening, Logan, I’m going to turn in.’ you gave him a peck on the cheek, glared at the others and walked off.  Logan watched you go, then turned back. 

‘You’re all assholes,’ he said, taking a beer from the fridge and heading to his own room. 

As you sat on your bed, you thought about the evening.  It has been nice and uncomplicated.  You loved that Logan had enjoyed the play.  For all his gruff and claws, he could be quiet and reflective and enjoy something more cultural than a cage fight.  You thought that was something very few seemed to realise about him.  You sighed.  You could feel yourself letting him back in, your defences weakening.   One date wasn’t enough.  A few months of Logan being on his best behaviour.  You felt like you were constantly waiting for it all to go wrong.  For Logan to, well, Logan. 

Down the hallway, Logan lay on his bed, still fully clothed.  He stared at the ceiling, thinking about you only a few rooms away.  He wanted nothing more than to be with you.  Not sex even, but just snuggled against you.  Yeah, he liked to snuggle, what of it?  He sighed and closed his eyes, at least making some attempt at sleep.  He dreamed of you, as he had so often lately.  Just you near him, nothing more than that.  Normally he hated his dreams but these made him smile, gave him comfort.  He really had wanted to know which of his bad parts made you fall in love with him.  He could list all your good parts, all the amazing things he saw you do each day that made him want to spend all his time with you.  His eyes snapped open. Yeah but all those bad parts also made her break up with you, remember?  He remembered.   

*** 

The dam was now broken and you and Logan began to go on more regular dates. Restaurants, the cinema, bars, just for walks.   You had a good time and you enjoyed Logan’s company.  More importantly, if he couldn’t make it for any reason, he actually communicated with you, letting you know why rather than just letting you down, and never some obviously made up excuse, always with the truth.  You mentioned this to Jean and Ororo. 

‘Well that’s growth,’ Jean said, sounding a little impressed. 

‘It is and I do appreciate it.’ 

‘But.....?’ Ororo said. 

‘But what?’ you looked confused. 

‘There’s always a ‘but’.’ 

You sighed. 

‘Things have been very...chaste,’ you began, ‘which just seems very un-Logan.  He’s not even held my hand, let alone tried anything else.’ 

‘You want him to try something else?’ Jean asked. 

‘I don’t know,’ you said after a slight pause, ‘It just isn’t him and it’s weird.’ 

‘Logan is still, underneath it all, a Victorian gentlemen,’ Ororo smiled. 

You gave her a look and scoffed. 

‘He’s anything but.’ 

They both laughed. 

‘Maybe he just needs a nudge in the right direction?’ Jean suggested, ‘if you are at the point where you want more, tell him.’ 

You did.  At least you thought you did.  When you looked back over your time with Logan before, you weren’t shy in expressing yourself and neither was he.  The last thing in the world Logan was, was shy.  You weren’t sure why he was being like he was.  You supposed, in the spirit of being open and honest, you should ask him. 

Your next date took you to a small diner you both liked.  As you sat opposite Logan, picking at your burger and fries, you thought about how to tackle the subject.  Head on, you supposed. 

‘Logan?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘Can I ask you something?’ 

‘Sure?’ 

‘Do you want to fuck me?’ 

It was unfortunate that Logan had just taken a bite of his burger at that point and proceeded to choke on it.  You waved the concerned looking waitress away and patted Logan on the back a few times. 

‘You okay?’ 

‘Yeah...’Logan wheezed, wiping his mouth, then looked at you, ‘what the hell, sweetheart?’ 

You shrugged. 

‘It was just a question.’ 

‘Hell of a question!’ 

‘Well?’ 

‘Well what?’ 

‘Do you or not?’ 

Logan looked at you for a long time. 

‘Yes,’ he said eventually. 

‘Okay so why haven’t you tried to get me into bed?  You haven’t held my hand or kissed me, aside from a peck on the cheek, or anything.  I’m a little surprised that’s all.’ 

Logan took a swig of beer, washing down the last of the burger. 

‘I didn’t want to be that guy.’ 

‘What guy?’ 

‘The one who’s only interested in getting you into bed.  Which I am but not like that,’ he coughed, ‘I thought you wanted to take things slow.’ 

You sat back in the booth.  That was what you had wanted, when you first decided you wanted to try again with Logan.  Get to know each other again. 

‘I do.  I guess.’ 

‘You guess?  Either you do or you don’t, sweetheart.  I’m not a mind reader.  If you want more then you need to let me know.’ 

Logan did, in fact, know.  Quite often he had smelled your arousal at the end of the evening.  It took every ounce of strength he had not to act on it.  More than a few nights after saying goodbye to you at your door he’d gone to his room, to the shower, and set it as cold as he could get it.  When that didn’t work he just bowed to the inevitable and stood under the freezing water, cock in hand, and jerked himself off.  It wasn’t the best but it was better than going too far, too soon and upsetting whatever this fragile peace was between you. 

As you walked back to the mansion that evening, you felt Logan’s fingers against your hand.  You responded by taking his hand in yours and for the first time in a long time, you walked hand in hand, fingers intertwined. 

‘Can I ask you something?’ 

Is it going to make me choke again?’ 

You let out a small laugh.  

‘I don’t know. I hope not.’ 

You stopped walking and turned to him.  

‘It’s my parents wedding anniversary in a few weeks and they’re having a party. I’d really like you to come with me.’ 

Logan looked down at your entwined fingers then back up at your face.  

‘I’d love to,’ he smiled.  

‘Really?’ 

‘Yes,’ he nodded, ‘I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t.’ 

‘Good,’ you smiled and leaned in to kiss him.  

You’d not kissed Logan for so long and you’d forgotten how soft he could be. His lips parted and you felt the first touch of his tongue against your own lips. You opened up and let him in. His hand went to the back of your neck and you felt him holding you there while he kissed you. When you eventually parted you felt quite breathless.  

‘Oh…’ 

‘I’m all yours, baby,’ he said, smiling.   

**** 

So when Charles sent Logan and a few of the others on a mission only a few days before the party, you felt history repeating itself.  

‘I’ll be back, I promise,’ Logan said.  

You stood leaning against the wall of the locker room as you watched him suiting up. You wanted to believe him. He looked at you and walked over, taking your hand in his and putting your fingers to his lips.  

‘I’ll be back,’ he said again, kissing your fingers, ’it’s important to you so I’ll be there. If I could have gotten out of this I would have, trust me. And I tore Chuck a new one when he gave us this mission.’ 

‘Did you?’ 

‘For all the good it did,’ Logan sighed, then he kissed you, ’see you in a few days. Wear something pretty for me.’ 

You punched his shoulder and he grinned at you. You watched him and the others walk off towards the Blackbird. You had to trust him eventually and this was a good time to start.  

Even so, you were not surprised when the day of the party come along and Logan was nowhere to be seen.  None of the team were back from the mission, which made things a little easier to bear but still and all, you found yourself feeling let down once again, even if it wasn’t Logan’s fault. At least you hoped not.  

You walked into the party alone and your aloneness was duly noted.  

‘Clearly he doesn’t care, darling,’ you mother said, ‘this is the second time he’s done this to you. Time to find sometime else. This…Logan seems entirely too unreliable.’ 

You didn’t want to agree but you found yourself doing so. He’d promised he’d be back, and he wasn’t. You cursed Charles who, conveniently, was nowhere to be found and could give you no updates on when the team were expected back.  You wouldn’t have minded so much had Logan simply sent you a quick message but he hadn’t.  You were so tied up in feeling annoyed at him that you never considered the fact that he might not be able to.  

The party continued. Everyone was having a great time. You wandered about, smiling falsely and eventually went outside. As you stood there, trying to hide away from everyone, your phone rang.  

‘Fucking finally!’ You said.  

When you looked at the screen it was not Logan, but Scott who was calling you.  

‘Yes?’ You said, not hiding your annoyance.  

‘You need to get back to the mansion now!’ Scott said, sounding frantic.  

‘I’m at my parent’s party, I’m not going anywhere,’ you pouted.  

‘Get back now. It’s Logan. He’s been injured.’ 

You rolled your eyes. Why and how logan had managed to con Scott into calling you with some made up story… 

‘Logan can’t get injured, Scott,’ you were annoyed now.  

‘He can and he is! Listen to me, we got ambushed and they had some device that temporarily neutralised our mutations. Logan got shot when he no longer had his healing!’ 

‘What…?’ You said after what felt like a hundred years.  

Scott was sounding more frantic now.  

‘He was shot in the chest! Multiple times. We managed to get him back to the jet and back to the mansion. He’s...’ 

‘Surely…surely his healing has come back now, right?’ 

‘It has but he…it’s…please just get here as soon as you can!’ 

You almost dropped your phone and then ran into the house.  

‘Dad! I’m sorry but I need to leave!’ 

‘Oh come on!’ 

‘No it’s serious. Logan, the reason he’s not here, he’s been shot and and there’s something wrong. He can’t heal from it and I need to be there!’ 

Even your father, never the most accepting of mutants, you included, could see how scared you were.   

‘Okay, let me drive you. You’re in no fit state.’ 

Your father took your car and drove you back to the mansion. He followed you inside, trying to keep up with you as you ran towards the medical bay. The first person you saw was Hank, who raised his eyebrows at your father. He, to his credit, seemed unfazed by this hairy blue man standing before him. Maybe it was Hank’s natural air of authority that put him at his ease.  

‘Where is he??’ You demanded.  

Hank took gentle hold of your arms and looked at you.  

‘He’s in there,’ he said, nodding towards a room, ‘Jean is with him and we’re working on stabilising him at the moment.’ 

‘How bad is it?’ Your father asked.  

Hank looked at him.  

‘I’m afraid it’s too soon to say, sir.’ 

He nodded and put his hand on your shoulder.  

‘Is there anywhere we can go and wait?’ He asked, ‘how about we go to your room?’ He suggested.  

‘No no I need to be here!’ 

Hank gestured down the hallway, towards his office.  

‘You can wait in here,’ he said smiling.  Your father started off down the hall and you were about to follow him when you stopped and turned back to Hank. You crushed yourself to him and buried your face on his fur.  

‘Please save him,’ you sobbed. 

You felt Hank’s large hand on your back.  

‘I’ll do my very best,’ he soothed and handed you off to your father.  

*** 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in Hank’s office. At one point you fell asleep and woke up on the couch with your father’s jacket draped over you.  You sat up in a rush and ran to the door. 

‘Hey hey, where are you going?’ he asked.  

‘I shouldn’t have fallen asleep!’ You cried and yanked the door open. You ran up the hallway and reached the medical bay. As you did so, Jean emerged from a room.  

‘Where’s Logan?’ You asked.  

‘He’s in here,’ Jean said. 

‘Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay!’ 

‘Not out of the woods yet but right now he’s stable.’ 

The feeling of relief that washed though you made you feel lightheaded.  

‘Can I see him? Please?’ 

‘You can, but only for a few minutes.’ 

That was good enough.  Jean opened the door and led you inside.  You gasped when you saw Logan.  He looked pale, diminished, lying on the hospital bed, a tube down his throat, hooked up to various machines and IVs, bandages wrapped around his chest. 

‘What...?’ 

‘The device, whatever it was, inhibited all our powers.  We didn’t know until we tried to use them and Logan had already gone on ahead before we could stop him.’ 

‘Scott said they shot him?’ 

‘Yes.  Most didn’t do much damage but one did pass through his lung.  Once we got him away from the range of the device, his healing factor started to come back.’ 

‘So why is he still lying here like this?’ you asked. 

‘We don’t know.  Maybe because he was injured while he couldn’t heal, when his healing came back, the damage was already done. We don’t know how long it could take for him to recover.  If...if he ever does.’ 

You fell  into the chair next to the bed and took hold of Logan’s hand.  You held it to your lips and soon it was wet with the tears that you couldn’t stop from falling.  You couldn’t lose him. 

[unlikeable-female-character]

Old Man Logan x Single Mother Reader - Desperate Measures

Part three!

Things escalate after you report Logan.

Warnings - the girls run away.

****

The fallout from you reporting Logan started almost immediately. Emily was in tears, not understanding why anyone would do something like that.  

‘Logan’s the best!’ She sobbed, ‘he’s funny and kind. He’s never mean or shouts and…and always makes us mac and cheese when we ask him too!’ 

‘That’s sweet, darling, but there’s more to being a parent than just that,’ you said, hugging her to you.  

‘But he only left Laura by herself because he had to!’ 

You sighed. 

‘No, he didn’t have to, he chose to. There’s a difference.’ 

‘And now she’s going to be taken away and I’ll never see her again!’ 

You looked at her. You were pretty sure that that wasn’t going to happen. You hoped it wasn’t going to happen.  

‘I…don’t think so.’ 

‘That’s what kids at school said. That Logan can’t be her dad anymore and she will get taken away from him.’ 

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.  

‘Emily, please don’t worry about that.  They won’t take Laura away. They...’ 

Before you could finish Emily broke away from you and ran up to her room.  You stood in the hallway and felt the whole house rattle when she slammed her bedroom door.  

Oh fuck.  

*** 

You didn’t see Logan at school for the next few days.  He dropped Laura off then left immediately.  Laura was quieter than usual, but you supposed that was to be expected. According to Emily, a social worker was going to come to the school and speak to her and then to Logan.  Your stomach churned.  You couldn’t think of anything else aside from the fact that you had set the wheels in motion.  Which, you kept reminding yourself, was absolutely the right thing to do.  So why did you feel so bad?  They wouldn’t take Laura away, surely?  That wasn’t how it worked.  Aside from this Logan WAS a good father.  And yes, he was just trying to do his best.  Fuck fuck fuck. 

And then things got a hundred times worse. 

It had been a few weeks since you had raised your concerns.  Such a prim way of putting it, you thought, the guilt still gnawing away at you.  Logan had started making appearances at school again and a gaggle of concern groupies had converged around him, offers to help, to babysit, to help him find another job.  You had to laugh.  If you had been the one leaving your kid alone at night you know that you would not be getting the same reception.  But the handsome, single, depressed, broken man?  That’s just catnip to the ladies, clearly.  Even so, you still felt slightly sick when you spoke to him.  It had been some time since the girls had spent any time together, other than speaking over FaceTime, so you thought it might be nice if Laura came over.  It was, you decided, the least you could do.   

As you approached Logan, you could see close up the toll this was taking on him.  He looked haunted.   

‘Hi,’ you said, gently.  He grunted in response, ‘um...I wondered if Laura wanted to come over on Saturday?  I know Emily would love to spend time with her.’  You smiled, choking on it while you pretended you weren’t the one who had pulled the pin on his life. 

‘Yeah,’ he said, his voice even gruffer than usual, ‘That’d be nice.’ 

‘Okay,’ you said, ‘usual time?’ 

Logan nodded and walked off.   

You were sat at your desk later that day when your phone rang.  You looked and were surprised to see it was the school’s number. 

‘Hello?’ 

The next few minutes, you felt the world tip upside down. 

You and Logan arrived at school about the same time, him nearly driving his truck into a streetlight in his haste to get there.   

‘What the hell’s going on?’ he asked as he saw you. 

‘I wish I knew!’ 

You both ran into the school, to be met almost instantly by the principal. 

‘Where are they?’ Logan demanded. 

‘We don’t know,’ Mrs Abbot said, ‘They didn’t return to their class after lunch.  The police have been called.’ 

‘I don’t understand,’ you said, feeling like you were underwater, ‘What do you mean they didn’t return?  Why didn’t they return?’ 

You heard the hysterical tone in your voice and somewhere in the back of your brain you were very conscious of Logan’s arm coming around your shoulders. 

‘It’s possible that they ran away,’ Mrs Abbot said, ‘due to your...difficulties,’ she nodded at Logan, ‘I’m afraid the rumour mill has rather gotten away from us and the children have been saying some fairly outlandish things about what will happen to Laura.’ 

It all made sense in a strange way.  Why wouldn’t Emily and Laura run away together?  As far as they were concerned, they were going to be split up and never see each other again.  You let out a sob and felt Logan’s hug grow tighter around you.  You hugged him back and hated yourself. 

‘I think I'm going to be sick,’ you moaned and ran to the bathroom. 

*** 

You and Logan spoke to the police.   You could tell how much Logan hated having to admit what the reason likely was behind the girls’ disappearance.  You’d thrown up but you still felt nauseous.  You sat in the reception, watching Logan through the window to the principal’s office.  He looked wild, pacing, flexing his hands, looking like he wanted to do nothing more than punch every single person in the room.   You didn’t realise you were crying until the school receptionist sat beside you and handed you a tissue.  You fell into her arms and sobbed.  The door opened and the police walked out.  Logan stood still in the middle of the room, just staring at nothing.   

‘What happens now?’ you sniffed. 

‘We will circulate the pictures you and Mr Howlett gave us and start looking in some of the places you mentioned,’ one of the officers said, ‘it would be better if you both went home, an officer will go with you.’ 

‘I’m not going home,’ Logan said, ‘I want to look for them.’ 

‘Logan...’ you said wearily, ‘please just do as they ask.’ 

‘It will be better if you go home, sir.  In case they show up at either of your houses.’ 

You could almost hear Logan’s teeth grinding in frustration. 

‘Please, Mr Howlett.  Let us do our jobs.’ 

And so you both went home.  You weren’t sure how many miles you walked around your house, just waiting, checking your phone to see if Emily had called and you’d somehow missed it.   Just standing by the window and staring out into the street.  You wondered how Logan was fairing. 

Logan was not at home.  Logan was out.  Logan was trying to pick up a trail.  Once upon a time, when his senses were sharper and he wasn’t such an old, out of shape, depressed fuck up, he’d have found the girls within the first hour.  Now, well, now it was taking some time and he hated that.  He hated himself.  He hated you.  He hated everyone.  Except Laura and Emily.  He just wanted to find them and get them home.   

Logan ran. He ran from his house to the school. He stopped and stood in the middle of the street. He closed his eyes and breathed. Grounded himself.  Tried to pick up a scent, something. He stood there for what felt like days. Then he opened his eyes and moved. Quick but carefully, making sure he kept hold of every tiny insignificant scent or clue he caught hold of.  He reached an intersection, stopped, looked, breathed, then moved. The trail was faint but it was there.   

For several hours Logan was on the move. He didn’t know or care what the fucking police were doing. He was going to find the girls and bring them home. He knew how Laura thought and moved. He knew it to his bones.   

As it started to grow darker you grew more scared. You sat and stood and paced and cried and felt alone.  And guilty. So guilty. This was your fault and if Logan ever found out he would never ever forgive you. You’d never forgive yourself.  

Logan’s gut was churning. He was getting close, he could feel it. He knew they wouldn’t get on a train or bus, they didn’t have enough money easily accessible to them for a start, so hiding out was what he assumed they’d be doing.  Laura could survive, he knew that, and Emily was a smart kid. They’d have planned this. Been planning it for weeks most likely.  The trail he’d been following lead him to the park, a carefully curated thing for the most part but with an area left to grow wild. There. That’s where they were, he was sure of it.  He climbed over the fence and dropped to the other side. He wasn’t sure what sort of people he might encounter here this late at night. For the first time in a long time he unleashed his claws, just the one hand. Just to be on the safe side, he just hoped he didn’t have to use them.  On top of everything else he didn’t want to be facing assault charges, or worse.  

He moved quickly but as silently as he could. He knew that the closer he got the more likely it was that Laura would register his presence. He stopped again, looked, listened. Changed direction and moved.  Sniffed the air. He caught the smell of smoke.  He moved again, low to the ground, careful and slow.  

There they were.  

They’d built a small fire, having carefully cleared a patch of the ground to make sure it didn’t spread. In the firelight he could just make out a small shelter and some sleeping bags. He wondered where they had gotten those from? Yours he assumed. There was a glint off a can, beans maybe, soup. Something they could warm up and eat quickly. He was right, this had been planned. In an odd way he admired the girls. This was not just a spur of the moment tantrum. He thought they would likely have survived and stayed hidden for some time if he’d not found their trail. They were smarter than the police that was for sure.  

He stayed in the shadows and listened to their chatter for a few more minutes and then moved, deliberately breaking a twig. He saw Laura shift a little, sit up straighter oh so very slightly, head steady, carrying on talking but eyes moving.  That’s my girl, he thought, don’t let them know that you know they’re there.  He knew he shouldn’t but he felt quite proud of her.  They both turned as he finally emerged from the trees.  

‘Oh!’ Emily said. 

‘Oh is right,’ he said, ‘you two have got some explaining to do.’ 

He walked over and crouched down beside the fire.  

‘Are you angry?’ Laura asked.  

‘Kiddo, I’m fucking furious, but that can wait. I need to get you home. Both of you.’  

Laura and Emily looked at each other.  

‘We don’t want to go,’ Emily said, the quiver in her voice belying the brave front she was putting up.  

‘Haven’t got a choice, sweetheart. Your mom is going out of her mind.’ 

‘But Laura will be taken away if we go back,’ Emily said. Logan admired how much courage it was taking for her to speak like this.  Both girls looked at him.  

‘She won’t. Not if I’ve got anything to say about it,’ he looked at them, ‘look, I fucked up and made a mistake but that’s going to change. I’m going to change.’ 

Laura turned to him.  

‘I told Emily. About…’ she didn’t say anything else, just held up a fist.  

Logan nodded.  

‘Thought you might have,’ he sighed, looking at Emily,’ she told you about me too?’ 

She nodded. Logan stood up, groaning a little at the cracking of his knees.  

‘Let’s get you home and we can deal with that later.  C’mon.’ 

He helped the girls dismantle their camp and put out the fire. He figured he should let the police know he’d found them. They told him to stay by the park entrance and a car would be there to pick them up. While they waited, Logan and the girls talked and they told him how long they’d been planning it, where they intended to go.  He couldn’t help but be impressed – not something he’d be telling you any time soon.  

*** 

You weren’t sure you would ever let Emily go. When you saw the police car pulling up outside, you feared the worst. Then Logan got out of the car, followed by Laura and Emily. You nearly pulled the door off the hinges to get outside.    

‘Oh my god oh my god!’ You sobbed, squeezing Emily to you.  

‘You’ve got Mr Howlett to thank for finding them,’ said the police officer.  

‘Logan? How?’ 

He shrugged.  

‘Had a hunch. Turns out I was right,’ he said.  

You stared at him. There was more he wasn’t saying but right at that moment you couldn’t care less.  Your baby was home and that’s all that mattered.   

‘Thank you, Logan,’ you said, going over and hugging him, ‘thank you so much.’ 

His hands felt so large and warm on you.  Part of your brain didn’t want to let him go. 

‘I gotta get Laura home,’ he said quietly, moving you back to Emily and nodding to the police. 

‘Thank you again,’ you said and ushered Emily inside. 

Logan got back in the car and he and Laura were taken home. 

When he shut the front door, Laura dumped her backpack in the hallway and walked off to the kitchen.  Logan followed her.  She was raiding the fridge and cupboards for something to eat. 

‘Sit down, I’ll make you a sandwich,’ he said. 

As Logan busied himself, he glanced at Laura sitting at the kitchen table. 

‘Whose idea was that?’ he asked. 

‘Mine,’ Laura said, ‘I didn’t want Emily to come.’ 

‘So why did she?’ 

‘She said that she didn’t want to leave me by myself.’ 

‘She’s a good friend,’ he said. 

Laura nodded. 

‘She’s not scared of things.  She knows how to camp out and stuff.’ 

‘I could see that,’ Logan said, ‘when did you show her?  Your claws and all?’ 

‘A few weeks ago.  When I said I was running away.   I told her I can take care of myself.’ 

Logan put a plate down in front of her and sat down. 

‘Was she scared?’ 

‘I told you, she's not scared of things.’ 

Logan nodded. 

‘So you did.  What did you tell her about me?’ 

Laura swallowed her sandwich. 

‘That you are the Wolverine,’ she said simply. 

‘She believed you?’ 

Laura shrugged. 

‘I showed her my claws, why wouldn’t she?’ 

Logan had to concede she had a point. 

‘You know,’ he began, ‘if there’s anything bothering you, you can talk to me.’ 

‘I know.’ 

He reached out a hand and placed it over Laura’s. 

‘Please don’t do anything like this again,’ he said. 

Laura looked at him. 

‘I won’t.  I promise.’ 

*** 

Emily and Laura were minor celebrities at school for the next few days.  Everyone wanted to know where they had gone and what they had done and how Logan had found them.  You were sat in your car one morning and overheard a group of parents talking. 

‘Mike’s buddy down at the station doesn’t know how he managed to track them down but he did.’ 

‘Logan?’ 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘There’s something about that man,’ one of them said, ‘Didn’t your Bobby say he used to be a soldier?  Might be why he was able to track them.’ 

‘Something like that.’ 

‘Like Delta Force you mean?’ 

‘Isn’t he Canadian?’ 

‘Well the Canadian equivalent then!’ 

There was, indeed, something about Logan.  Since the day you walked out of the principal’s office to now, you had started to see a different side of him, likely one that was always there but masked by your pointless annoyance with him.  He still had the talk with the social worker and all hanging over him, despite his heroics in finding the girls.  He’d still done the wrong thing.  But you were also starting to wonder if you’d done the right thing.  You should have spoken to him first, not gone straight to the authorities.  It would have saved the anguish of the girls running way like they did if nothing else.  For a few days you mulled it over.  You were going to come clean.  Tell him. 

*** 

When you showed up on Logan’s doorstep he looked surprised to see you. 

‘Hi,’ he said a little cautiously.  It was rare for you two to have any interaction outside of the school without the girls present. 

‘I wondered if I could have a talk with you,’ you said. 

‘Sure,’ he gestured for you to come in, ‘want some coffee? 

‘Yes, that would be nice.’ 

So you sat at the table and nursed a cup of coffee.  You weren’t entirely sure how you started this sort of conversation. 

‘Um...I have something I need to tell you,’ Which was, you decided, a pretty good way to start. 

‘Oh yeah?’ 

‘Hmmm.’ 

‘What is it?’ 

‘The school. It was me who spoke to the principal.’ 

Logan was silent for a very, very long time. 

‘What? Why?’ 

You looked at him. 

‘I think that’s pretty obvious isn’t it?’ You said. 

Logan glared at you. 

‘Not to me,’ he spat, ‘I knew you didn’t like me much but Jesus Christ!’ 

‘You think I did this out of some sort of petty spite?’ You asked. 

‘I don’t know! Did you?’ 

‘Of course I fucking didn’t!’ You said, ‘I did it because Laura needed protecting.’ 

‘Protecting?’ Logan said. 

‘Are you deaf? Yes, protecting!’ 

‘What the hell makes you think you’ve got any right to interfere?’ Logan yelled. 

‘Because you left your daughter by herself!! You can’t do that!’ 

Logan stood up and paced the room, his hand raking through his hair. 

‘You don’t know what you’ve done!’ 

‘Protected a child is what I’ve done!’ You shouted back. 

You were a little taken aback by how quickly he turned and reached you, his face mere inches from you. He was big, tall and muscular but you refused to let him intimidate you. 

‘I have done nothing but protect her!’ 

‘Funny way of showing it!’ 

‘You don’t understand,’ he said through gritted teeth. 

‘So you keep saying! What is there to understand other than you’re a neglectful father?’ 

This had all escalated so quickly you weren’t entirely sure what you were even saying anymore.  Logan’s face fell. You didn’t think you’d ever seen anyone looking so utterly defeated and devastated so quickly. You felt your stomach drop. 

‘Logan..’ 

‘Get the fuck out of my house,’ he snarled, the quiet menace in his voice making you fear him for the first time since you’d met. 

You didn’t argue, simply picked up your bag and left. You didn’t look back but heard the front door slamming shut after you. 

At home later you were sat with the tv on but you weren’t really watching it. You just needed noise to drown out your thoughts. Emily stormed in. 

‘What’s up, bug?’ You asked.  

‘You told on Logan!’ she seethed. 

‘Emily...’ 

‘Why would you do that?’ 

‘Because he left Laura by herself,’ you said, tired of having to justify your actions and definitely not wanting to have to justify them to your daughter.  This explanation seemed, to you, perfectly reasonable.  Apparently not to Logan and his one person fanclub standing in front of you. 

‘But Laura is fine by herself!’ 

‘I don’t think she is.’ 

‘No but she is! She can take care of herself! She showed me!’ 

You looked at her. 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘Her claws!’ Emily said then quickly, ‘I mean…’ before putting her hands over her mouth. 

‘Claws??’ 

Emily ran from the room. You got up and followed her. 

‘Emily come back! What do you mean?’ 

You stopped her bedroom door before she could slam it shut. 

‘What do you mean about claws?’ 

‘Laura has claws,’ she said quietly after a while. 

‘Please don’t lie.’ 

‘I’m not lying!!’ Emily shouted, ‘she does! In her hands and her feet!!’ 

You rubbed your head and tried to make sense of what Emily was saying. This was absolute nonsense and Emily was well past the age where such things were cute.  You watched her grab a comic from a pile. She shoved it at you and pointed at the cover. 

‘And that's Logan! He’s her dad! Wolverine is her dad!’ 

‘Emily, this is a comic, don’t make things up.’ 

‘I’m not!!!!’ She yelled and started to cry. You went to her to try and comfort her but she pushed you away. 

‘Logan IS Wolverine! He was part of the X Men years ago and now they’re all dead! They made the comics about their adventures! Laura knew Charles Xavier as well and then he died too!’ she looked at you, tears streaming down her face, ‘I’m not lying!’ 

You tried to pull her to you but she wouldn’t let you.  You stood and stared at your child.  This was ridiculous.  You bent and started to gather up the comics that were scattered on the floor. 

‘No more reading these!’ you said and walked off downstairs.  You heard Emily’s bedroom door slam. 

You threw the comics down on the table and stared at them.  The X Men, mutants. Professor X with his telepathy, Storm and her ability to manipulate the elements…Wolverine. You knew the lore, of course, the claws, the healing, the adamantium. You knew that, once upon a time, they had indeed existed. And now they didn’t. No mutants did. A child’s imagination was a wonderful thing but if Laura had been telling Emily some nonsense about her father actually being Wolverine and she herself being a mutant then things were going too far.   Your head was pounding and you didn’t know what to do for the best.  Your kid hated you, Logan hated you, most of the other parents at school likely did to or would once they found out.  You sat down heavily at the table and swept the comics off onto the floor, a pointless exercise that only meant you would have to pick them up again.  You put your head in your hands and screamed in frustration.  You didn’t know what you were going to do. 

[just-dreaming-marvel-2]

I need the next chapter 😭

This is just too good!

[sgtpepperoni94]

The Only Exception

(ao3 link) Series masterlist

Summary: Yours and Logan's Valentine's Day plans are dashed when you fall sick with the flu. However, your boyfriend has some tricks up his sleeve to make the night special. (2.6k words) Rating: T Tags and warnings: Trilogy!Logan (but on the revised timeline in theory) x Mutant AFAB!reader (between 28 and 32), Valentine's Day, sickness (flu), fluff (bordering on tooth rooting), comfort, tenderness, some mild suggestive content, mentions of reader going to therapy and parental divorce. Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or The X-Men, its properties, or its characters—they are the property of Disney. And the lyrics belong to Paramore.

💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

Maybe I know somewhere Deep in my soul, that love never lasts And we've got to find other ways To make it alone or keep a straight face And I've always lived like this Keeping a comfortable distance And up until now, I had sworn to myself That I'm content with loneliness Because none of it was ever worth the risk Well, you are the only exception You are the only exception

Given it was the first Valentine’s Day in years that you were in a committed relationship with someone, you had made plans to make it special. 

Except your immune system had other ideas. 

It had started on Saturday night with a dry, scratchy feeling in the back of your throat that did not seem to want to shift, even after a hot drink, water and lozenges. By Sunday evening, your whole body had begun to ache to the point that shuffling to the bathroom felt unnecessarily arduous. By Monday morning, the symptoms had escalated to chills, a fever and a headache, along with coughing and sneezing. 

There was no denying it: you were sick. On Valentine’s Day. 

Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. 

“So much for the special evening I had planned, Lo,” you croaked while on the phone to your boyfriend. The kettle whistled, and you poured the hot water over some honey and lemon. “I texted Claire, and she said it was the flu. Makes sense. It’s been passed around the office like we’re tight ends at the Super Bowl. Sorry, I had to cancel dinner, and I have no energy for anything other than lying in bed.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be at yours later,” he said. 

“No, don't. I don’t want to get you sick.”

“I can’t get sick, princess. Regenerative healing, remember.”

You groaned. “Sorry, I think the fever is messing with my head.”

He let out a chuckle. “Get some sleep. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You hung up and took your mug to the bedroom. You did try to sleep. Your head was swimming, and any time you felt your mind switch off, the coughing would rudely snap you back awake. You were semi-dozing when you heard movement in your kitchen, along with some profanity. From the heaviness of the steps, you could tell it was Logan. 

“I thought you were still working,” you said tiredly as you shuffled into the kitchen, draped in your baby blue fleece dressing gown. Logan stood over the stove, stirring something in a small saucepan. On the counter sat a vase filled with a gorgeous bouquet of a dozen red roses and some white gypsophila.

“Seniors are putting on a Love Bug dance for the middle schoolers so Charles gave everyone the afternoon off. I’ve been here about half an hour,” Logan answered. He looked up and blinked. “Wow.” 

You weren’t shocked by his reaction. Your eyes were puffy, your skin dry and blotchy, and your lips and nose were slightly chapped from the number of times you had to wipe them.

“Believe me, I had other ways of making you say that tonight.” Your voice had a rasp to it, and you tried to cough to relieve it. 

“Oh?”

You pulled a lingerie store bag from under your television cabinet and handed it to him. He opened it and took out the navy blue, floral-laced bra. You could see a small twitch in his eye before he coughed, “Well, there’s always next year.” Logan poured something out of the saucepan into a bowl. “Egg drop soup?”

“You made egg drop soup?”

“No. Picked it up from the Chinese restaurant.”

You smiled softly and nodded. You sat on the couch and pulled a blanket over you. Despite the fever, your body felt like you had spent the night in an igloo. Logan brought the bowl of soup over to you, and you took it gratefully. 

“Thanks,” you said as you took a first blessed sip of the chickeny broth. “I’ve barely eaten all day.”

Logan put his palm on your clammy forehead. “You’re burning up. When was the last time you took a Tylenol?”

“Now you’re sounding like my mother. I took some after I called you. To be honest, I have been trying to sleep most of the day - not sure how successful that was.” 

“Well, since we can’t go for dinner, I figured you could do with some spoiling.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I had a glance through some recipe books during my preparation period. With a little help from Jean, I narrowed it down to rigatoni with vodka sauce. I also got you a red velvet cheesecake. Just because we can’t go out, it does not mean we can’t make the most of it.” 

You smiled. “You are unlucky that I am too gross to make out with you right now.”

“Well, you’re still as beautiful as the day we met.” You put the bowl of soup on the coffee table and leaned over and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. “Dinner’s going to be an hour, what do you want to do?”

“I think I might take a shower and see if the steam, hot water and fresh pyjamas can help. I have some beer if you want some while you wait.”

Logan got up and went to the fridge. However, when he opened it, he took out a can of whipped cream. “What’s this for?”

“I had a lot of plans for that can of whipped cream,” you answered with a small smirk. 

You walked to your bathroom and switched on the shower. It felt nice under the hot water, the steam releasing some pressure from the back of your throat and clearing your nasal passage. Now your muscles felt less tight, and you were in clean pyjamas, you felt fresher and more awake. 

When you arrived back in the kitchen, Logan was cooking rigatoni on the stove. “That smells amazing,” you commented as the scent of garlic, tomato and chilli flakes hit your nose. “Now that I can actually breathe.” You sat on the stool and sipped the water from the wine glass Logan had laid out. While the pasta was cooking, Logan walked around and felt your forehead. “How’s it looking, doc?”

“Seems to be breaking a little.” He held up a packet of Oseltamivir pills. “Jean said to take these. They’re a bit stronger at beating the flu than over-the-counter stuff.” 

“Thanks.” You popped a tablet and swallowed it down with water. Logan tipped in about two or three shots of Belvedere into the tomato paste and began to cook down the alcohol. “So, I guess Bobby and Rogue can’t go on a date if they're doing the Love Bug dance.”

“Well, they’re not talking to each other, so I don’t even know how that date would’ve worked.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. Jubilee mentioned something about the Cajun-”

“Remy.”

“Well, you know what he’s like.”

“Flirts with everything and everyone?”

Logan poured in the cream and began to stir the sauce together until it turned a slight salmon pink. “Yep. As I said at Christmas, she's smart enough to know the boundaries.”

“Can't stop teenage jealousy though.” 

“Yeah, so Bobby told him to back off, but Remy ain’t going to bat an eyelid. Rogue then got annoyed, and that’s when the bickering started. That was before lunch. Now, they’re not talking. Give it a couple of days, and if they've not sorted it, I'll knock some sense into them.” 

Logan plated up the pasta and pushed the bowl towards you. Your energy levels perked up and took a hearty bite of the meal. “Wow, this is amazing. So, other than Marie and Bobby giving each other the silent treatment, any other romantic dramas? Did Scott mess up the Valentine’s Day gift for Jean?”

Logan snorted. “Well, the sixth graders passed around cards and candy. It was cute until JJ and Shane decided to wrestle in the middle of Ororo’s class. Turns out they both liked Stacey.”

“Sounds like classic middle school drama. I do not miss that.”

“And the only thing they got out of it was Stacey admitting she liked Harley.”

“And Harley?”

“Likes Ashley. It started becoming a headache.”

“I don’t even think A Midsummer Night’s Dream had that many entanglements.”

“Kids for you: think they understand what love is because they saw it in a movie.”

“But they don't have the developed brains to realise it is hard work sometimes.” 

“Take it your therapist said that.” 

“Kind of. When I explained about how my parents’ marriage fell apart, she said that they spent most of the marriage working on being in love rather than letting it develop naturally. They were very young and had not quite developed the emotional intelligence to handle both a new relationship and a baby on top of that. It meant that they were working on loving different things: Mom was focused on marriage, and Dad was focused on my sister and me. As a result, I had started putting up barriers and only sought casual flings in an effort not to get hurt. You were the exception. The only exception. I know my love is unconditional, and it makes it so much easier.” 

Your hand squeezed his, and he brought your knuckles to his lips and kissed them sweetly. When you finished your dish, Logan put the leftovers in a container and put the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. 

“So, I have a present for you,” Logan declared as you sat on the couch.

“Oh?” Logan stood up and revealed a gift bag hiding behind the small kitchen island. He handed you the bag, and you opened it. Instantly, you laughed. “Thought I might be too old for a stuffed animal,” you commented as you pulled out a yellow stuffed duck holding a large red heart. “He’s cute.”

“Saw it while I was in the mall last week. Reminded me of your friend back in Long Beach and thought he could do with a sibling.”

“Well, I can brainstorm some better names than Ducky later. Thank you, Lo.” 

You put the duck beside you and padded on bare feet to the bedroom. You returned to the kitchen and handed Logan a red envelope. He frowned in amused curiosity but opened it to see a bunch of pink cards. He pulled them out and flipped through them. 

“I found a place that makes these coupons,” you explained. “So date night activities like bowling, picnics, things like that. You can redeem them whenever you want; they have no expiration date.”

Logan smiled softly. “I love it, princess.” He flicked through the booklet and tore one of the coupons along the perforated edge. He handed it to you, and you read it: movie night. “Thought we could watch those last two Star Wars movies since you will inevitably drag me to the last one.”

Immediately, you set up the DVD player. Once the first movie was ready, Logan joined you on the couch with your slice of cheesecake, a box of chocolates and a bowl of salted popcorn.

“I don’t know how you can eat that,” he commented when he handed you the plate and fork. 

“What’s not to like about red velvet? It’s creamy and chocolatey…” You took a massive bite. “Slight twang from the buttermilk.”

You know me, not much of a sweet tooth.”

“And yet you stole my chocolate bar last week.”

“I was hungry.”

When you finished your dessert, you put the plate on the coffee table and rested your head on Logan’s lap. He put a cushion underneath your head and covered you with a blanket. Now and then, you coughed, sneezed and sniffed, but the film was providing a useful distraction. Initially, when you saw the film back in 1999, you were a little disappointed. However, after a few more watches - some with alcohol - you found there were more things you enjoyed about than not (and it did not hurt that Ewan McGregor was very easy on the eye).

 “Are you an angel?”

“She’s a bit old for you, bub,” Logan commented after taking a sip of his beer.

“Coming from the centurion,” you responded with a small smile.

Logan let out a soft snort. “Fair point.”

You turned so you were lying on your back and looking up at Logan. “Does that worry you at all?”

“What?”

“That you don’t really age, but I’m going to be old and grey someday.”

“Well, I love you that much I would not care if you were wearing dentures.”

“And I love you so much that I will not tell you how corny that line was.”

Logan laughed. “Besides, Jean said I’m not indestructible. In fact, she said that my cells look to be slowing down.”

“I knew I saw a grey hair the other day.”

“Hey.” He poked you gently in the side. “Does it worry you?”

“Sometimes. When I realised how old you were and saw the picture from twenty years ago, it did make me scared about what the future might bring.”

“Well, eternity can be a curse.” He took your hand and pressed a kiss to it. “Best we can do is live for now.”

“Yeah, I’ve learned that worrying about the future tends to make you focus on what is in front of you.” 

You kissed his hand back and returned your attention to the movie, his hand squeezing yours now and then. When the first film ended, you got up, stretched and switched the DVD to Attack of the Clones. 

“People hated that movie?” Logan asked, a little baffled by the fact that all he had heard were negative things when he found the movie about as average as all the other movies he had seen. 

“Well, you know, the people with the loudest voices tend to be heard more. Does not mean they are the smartest. That said, this movie is a little rough. I’ve only seen it once since it came out.”

You weren’t kidding. You felt him wince at the line, “I don’t like sand.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Does anyone not read through these things?” he groaned, taking a long sip of beer. 

You let out a small laugh, “Maybe you should give Anakin some pointers.”

“I think we both know I don’t need lines.”

“No, just your sparkling personality.”

Around the arena scene, a blanket of tiredness covered you, and you drifted to sleep. The closing fanfare began, and Logan switched off the television. Gingerly, he lifted your head so he could stand. He lifted you into his arms so your head rested on his shoulder. He groaned a little; usually, he could lift you like a feather, but when you were asleep, you were dead weight. 

“Hmmm…” you moaned at the sudden motions and opened your eyes.

“It’s okay, princess,” he whispered. “I was just taking you to bed.”

“Need to brush my teeth.”

“Probably a good idea. Your breath in the morning-” You shoved his shoulder. He snorted. “Revenge for the grey hair jab.”

When you returned from the bathroom, you noticed that the bedside table had been tidied and the small bin emptied. It wasn’t a grand sweeping statement, but it was those small things that made you love him more with each passing day. 

“You staying?” you asked as you climbed into bed. 

Logan pulled off his shirt and jeans. “Might need to get up early, but it's worth it.”

He climbed under the sheets with you, and you snuggled closer to him, arm draped over his stomach and head tucked into his neck. You kissed his collarbone. “Thank you for today. It was lovely.”

He kissed the top of your head. “Maybe when you’re better, we can put the whipped cream to good use.

[unlikeable-female-character]

I almost want to be unwell so Logan will take care of me 🥰🥰🥰😅😅

[usergambit]

HUGH JACKMAN as LOGAN HOWLETT aka WOLVERINE The Wolverine (2013) dir. James Mangold

[unlikeable-female-character]

Old Man Logan x Single Mother Reader - Second Chances

Part two of this

Thank you to @rosenclaws for Emily and Laura’s costume ideas 🥰

Warnings: none really, implied child neglect (she isn't being neglected, don’t worry), reader has a fantasy about Logan.

****

As much as Emily missed her Saturday afternoon with Laura, she enjoyed her grandparents visiting.

‘Who is Laura? Emily can’t stop talking about her,’ Your mother said one evening after dinner.

‘She’s Emily’s new best friend. She’s not been at school long. Absolutely thick as thieves the two of them,’ you smiled.

‘And Logan?’

You sighed.

‘Laura’s dad. Emily thinks he’s the greatest.’

‘And you don’t?’

‘No, he’s fine.’

‘But?’

But. But nothing really. You still weren’t sure what it was about Logan that bugged you so much. The turning up late and not calling issue had been sorted. His gruffness and silences you’d generally gotten used to. Maybe it was the fact that you’d masturbated while thinking about him again. More than once if you were honest. You blushed at the thought and missed your mother talking to you.

‘What?’

‘What’s wrong with this guy?’ she repeated.

‘I just don’t think we’re destined to be besties like the girls are,’ you shrugged, ‘but that’s fine. It’s not like we have to be.’

You weren’t sure what the look on your mother’s face indicated but your stomach sank at the prospect of her interfering or trying to play matchmaker.

The next weekend was the sleepover. Logan caught up with you at the school gate.

‘What does she need to bring with her? Never really did the sleepover thing when I was a kid,’ he said.

‘Just pjs, clothes for the next day. Emily’s decided they are camping out in the lounge so I’ve got some air mattresses out of the attic for them. Not that I expect them to sleep much,’ you chuckled.

Logan smiled a little.

‘I guess not.’

‘She’ll be fine, Logan, I promise,’ you assured him.

He nodded and headed to his truck. You sighed. Logan didn’t really end conversations in the conventional way, he just left them when he decided he was done with them, any further thoughts you might have dying in the air between you both.

Saturday rolled around. Logan dropped Laura off and she and Emily immediately started dismantling your lounge to make it suitable for their sleepover. You shook your head and laughed. Logan watched from the doorway as the girls flitted about the room, a plan clearly already having been formulated. You looked at his face as he did. There was a softness there, a peace, something you rarely saw. When Laura skipped over and pulled on his hand for him to help move the couch, he looked back at you, worried.

‘Go ahead,’ you laughed, ‘as long as you move it back tomorrow.’

You leant against the doorframe and watched as Logan happily let himself be bossed around by the girls, moving the couch this way and that until it was positioned to their satisfaction. Your idea of a couple of air mattresses seemed to have grown into an almost room sized blanket fort. When things were finally set up to their satisfaction, the girls let Logan go and after hugging Laura he headed for the door.

‘I’ll be working,’ he said, ‘if you need me for anything.’

‘Okay. Thanks for letting me know.’

‘Try my phone first. If not, try the bar’s number,’ and he handed you a card.

‘Thanks,’ you looked at it and creased your brow, ‘isn’t this a strip club?’

‘Yeah?’

You grimaced.

‘You sure you want to be working somewhere like that?’

Logan stared at you.

‘You going to pay me instead?’ he said simply.

You cocked your head.

‘Point taken.’

You shut the door after Logan and paused at the lounge door. The girls were all set up in their fort and needed you for nothing, other than to order pizza when the time came. You collected a few snacks and your book.

‘I’ll be upstairs if you need anything,’ you said.

‘Okay mom!’ Emily shouted back.

As you lay on the bed, idly flicking through the pages you wondered about Logan. Was working bar in a strip club really the best he could do? Laura said he drove - you’d since found out he’d driven a limo for a few years before Laura came to him - not as social maybe but not as…. Not as what? What was happening to you? Why did you care where Logan worked? You’d never had an issue with strippers or dancers before, why now? You knew that your friends would say it was because you were jealous. Logan got to look at all those women all evening when he barely spared you a glance. You threw your book down on the bed. This was ridiculous! You didn’t care what Logan did or who he did it with. You absolutely did not.

The girls were still up and giggling when the phone rang at about eleven.

‘Hey it’s me,’ you heard Logan’s voice.

‘Hi.’

‘Sorry it’s late, just thought I’d check in. How’s Laura?’

You laughed a little.

‘You can talk to her yourself if you like. As predicted no sleep has happened yet.’

You heard Logan chuckle down the phone.

‘That’d be good.’

You walked downstairs and knocked on the door. The girls were lying in their fort, comics scattered around, sketch pads full of their own cartoon characters in another pile.

‘Laura, it’s your dad,’ you said and handed her the phone.

She spoke quietly, telling Logan she was having a great time.

‘Si,’ she said smiling, ‘see you tomorrow.’

She handed the phone back to you. You went to speak but all you heard was a dead line. So far so Logan.

‘I’m going to get some water, then I’m going to bed. Try not to stay up too much later, okay.’

‘We won’t,’ both girls said.

‘Hmmmm,’ you smiled.

As you passed by the lounge on your way back upstairs you couldn’t help but hear them talking.

‘I wish my mom and your dad liked each other,’ Emily said.

‘Me too,’ Laura replied.

‘Mom thinks your dad is rude.’

Laura shrugged.

‘He is. He thinks she’s stubborn and interfering.’

‘Well yeah.’

Your eyebrows raised at your daughter’s assessment of you.

‘I guess we can forget about them falling in love and getting married,’ Emily sighed and you saw her flopping back onto the cushions.

Laura was quiet for a long time.

‘Can we be sisters anyway?’

‘Always,’ came Emily’s reply.

You went upstairs as quietly as you could. Well, that was a kick to the feels for sure.

When Logan arrived to pick Laura up the next morning, you were alarmed to see him sporting a black eye and a split lip.

‘What happened?’

‘Prick at the bar, bouncers needed some help getting rid of him.’

‘And you got caught in the cross fire?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Want me to take a look at it for you?’ you asked, already knowing the answer.

‘It’s fine,’ Logan said, not even pretending to hide his irritation.

Laura and Emily had already dismantled most of their fort, Logan’s job now he was here was to move the couch back in place. He did so without complaint. You wondered about pulling him aside and mentioning the conversation you had overheard but decided against it. It was never meant for your ears. But Laura’s words kept swimming through your head. This was clearly something the girls had discussed. Emily had never bothered about wanting a sibling and you assumed that Laura’s mother and Logan were never a long-term thing anyway so no siblings were ever going to be forthcoming there. Not to mention they had clearly been discussing the prospect of you and Logan becoming an item. Sorry to disappoint them but that was most definitely not on the cards. At all.

Except for the multiple times you had gotten yourself off thinking about him. That was a bit of a sticking point. You wondered if he did the same. Maybe in bed, or standing in the shower of a morning. Logan. Naked. In the shower. Water streaming down on him while he stroked his cock.

‘Huh??’

‘I said we’re going now,’ Logan repeated, slower this time as he if thought you were an idiot. Which he probably did. Along with interfering and stubborn apparently.

‘Oh yeah, of course,’ you said.

‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ Laura said with a smile.

‘It was lovely to have to you stay,’ you smiled back.

You and Emily waved them off.

‘That was the best!’ she said, happily.

‘I’m glad you had a good time,’ you said, pulling her into a hug, ‘you know I love you, right? And that if anything is bothering you, you know you can always talk to me.’

Emily wiggled away from you and gave you a quizzical look.

‘Yeah I know,’ she said and disappeared into the kitchen.

Life went on in the same old way for a few months. You and Logan never really clicked beyond brittle politeness. Your fantasising about him stopped. Or, at least, it wasn’t as frequent. You had to concede the point that, yes, he was very handsome and, yes, he did appear to have a very nice, if battered body. You weren’t entirely blind to those charms. It was obvious, shallow and easy. It was his personality that the others hadn’t had to deal with. Although when you walked into the playground one morning to see Logan standing with a group of parents laughing with them you started to get paranoid that you were actually the problem.

‘Oh hey,’ one of them said as you wandered near the group.

‘Hi,’ you said.

‘Logan was just telling us about how welcome you’ve made him and Laura.’

‘Oh was he? Well, Laura’s a great kid.’

Logan smirked.

‘I’ll give Chris your number and he’ll get back to you, alright?’ she said to Logan.

‘Thank you. Appreciate it,’ he said.

‘What’s this?’

Logan looked at you like he was wondering why you thought it was any of your business. Which, of course, it wasn’t.

‘Sarah’s husband might have some work for me. Construction.’

‘Wow,’ you said raising your eyebrows, ‘how many jobs does one man need?’

Logan shook his head and walked off. Sarah watched him go.

‘Can you two just fuck please?’ She said turning to you, ‘This endless sniping is getting kind of boring.’

She walked off leaving you more than a little stunned.

****

‘Mom! Mom!!’ Emily ran into your room one evening, waving her iPad at you and seeming a little over excited.

‘What?’ You asked as she thrust the device into your hands.

‘Look!’ She pointed at the screen and saw that she had been looking at a comic con that was going to be happening in town a few weeks from now. You’d heard about it but also knew it had been sold out for a while.

‘What about it?’

‘They’ve released more tickets look!’ Emily expanded the screen and you could see that yes indeed they had.

‘Can me and Laura go? Pleeeeeease?? It can be like my Christmas and birthday present all together!! It’s going to be so cool!’

You looked at the screen. Either you or Logan would have to accompany them. You didn’t entirely relish the idea but you also thought Logan would nix it completely if he knew he would be the one to have to hang around the convention centre all day surrounded by hordes of cosplayers. You scrolled through the prices. They seemed reasonable enough, entry to all the panels, all the good stuff.

‘Well I’ll have to ask Logan. Let’s see what he thinks and then we will go from there.’

You tried his phone but got nothing, not even get a voicemail message.

‘Weird. Phone must be switched off.’

‘Oh!’ Emily said, running off and coming back with a piece of paper, ‘Laura gave me the number for the phone in the house. Who even uses one of those anymore?’

‘Logan apparently,’ you muttered, dialling the number.

You heard the phone ringing. And ringing. And ringing. Before a small voice answered.

‘Hello?’

‘Laura?’ You said, introducing yourself, ‘sorry it’s late but I need a quick word with your dad.’

Laura was silent on the other end of the phone.

‘He’s asleep,’ she said eventually.

You looked at the time. It was only 9:30 but maybe he had to get up early. That or he was still suffering from a messed up sleep pattern, as he’d mentioned before.

‘Okay don’t worry. I’ll catch him tomorrow.’

‘Alright,’ Laura said and you heard the phone click.

Emily looked despondent.

‘I’ll talk to him tomorrow. I don’t think he’d have agreed to anything if I’d woken him up.’

Emily had to agree. You bookmarked the page and promised her you’d speak to Logan as soon as you could.

By some miracle Logan agreed and even offered to take the girls.

‘Seriously?’

‘Why not?’

‘I wouldn’t have thought it was your thing at all?’

‘What sort of asshole do you really think I am?’

You rubbed your temples and sighed.

‘Okay sorry. Great. Thank you for doing that. I’ll get the tickets.’

‘Fine. Let me know how much it is. Don’t want to be in your debt.’

‘Well I know where you live haha,’ you said, attempting a joke.

‘Unfortunately,’ you heard him mumble.

‘Huh. Thought actually getting some sleep would have made you more pleasant. Apparently I was wrong.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When I called last night Laura said you were already asleep.’

‘Yeah,’ he said after a pause, ‘I was.’

‘Whatever,’ you sighed, ‘I’ll text you when it’s all sorted.’

As usual Logan just nodded and walked off. Sarah’s words kept floating through your head. You most assuredly did NOT want to fuck Logan Howlett.

At all.

***

The tickets were secured and both Laura and Emily couldn’t have been happier. You got the feeling Logan was starting to regret his offer to go with them, especially after they began planning what costumes they were going to wear.

‘I’m not wearing one,’ he grumped

‘You don’t need to,’ Emily assured him.

‘We just need you to hold our stuff and stand in lines for us when we go to the bathroom,’ Laura said and both girls giggled.

‘Have you decided who you’re going as?’ You asked.

‘We have,’ Emily said, ‘Laura will be Wednesday and I’ll be Enid!’

‘Who?’

Both girls looked at Logan with utter disdain.

‘From ‘Wednesday’,’ Emily said, the ‘duh!’ tone in her voice making you hide your smile.

‘I still don’t know what that is,’ Logan said.

Laura sighed.

‘I’ll show you.’

***

The day of the convention came all too quickly. Emily and Laura stood in your kitchen as you made last minute tweaks to their costumes.

‘There,’ you said as you refastened the hair tie on one of Laura’s braids, ‘I think you’re both good to go. Let me take a picture first.’

The girls stood next to each other, their expressions perfectly capturing Wednesday’s and Enid’s personalities.

‘You both look great,’ you said, ‘don’t they?’

Logan, who had had a crash course in ‘Wednesday’ courtesy of Laura, agreed.

‘We’d better get going,’ he said and off the three of them went.

Around lunchtime your phone rang. It was Logan.

‘Hi, how is it going?’ you asked.

‘The girls are having the time of their lives. I’m in hell.’

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘You did offer, remember?’

‘Yeah yeah.’

‘Let me know when you’re leaving,’ you said.

‘I will.’

Logan ended the call. A few minutes later your phone pinged and you were treated to the sight of a selfie of the girls and an exasperated looking Logan standing behind them.

‘Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,’ you muttered to yourself.

As the day ended and Logan drove the girls home, he couldn’t help but overhear their conversation. Most of it was about the panels they’d seen, the artists they’d spoken to and the amount of merch they had managed to buy.

‘You can borrow these when I’m done,’ Emily said, tapping a bundle of back issues of comics she’d bought.

‘Thanks.’

‘There are loads of X-Men! Look!’ Logan watched as Emily excitedly showed Laura a comic, the cover resplendent in full colour. Wolverine and Rogue in action. Logan’s eyes flicked to Laura’s then back to the road. He swallowed hard and sniffed. He should stop Laura reading them, but he had no idea what sort of excuse he could give. You were already on his back about pretty much anything he did, upsetting your kid wasn’t something he wanted to be responsible for.

He’d flicked though the comics one night after Laura had gone to bed. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table, half way down a bottle of whisky - a brief slip off the wagon - and had cried. Not a single thing in the comics had ever happened but seeing them all. Jean, Storm, Scott, Charles, made his heart ache. He didn’t noticed Laura coming over to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. He didn’t want her to see him sobbing, drunk and pathetic like this, but she wouldn’t go back to bed. They talked that night, him and Laura, about the X men, about her time at Transigen, about their lives. He promised Laura that he wouldn’t drink again, and he’d kept that promise. She said she was sorry the comics made him sad. It was a hell of a thing, seeing himself, or a version of himself, being bundled up and sold for entertainment. That once upon a time when he was vibrant and young and had a family who cared for him.

When Emily arrived home, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen her so excited. Logan stood in the doorway and watched as you tried to make any sense of the stream of babble that was coming from your daughter. You looked at him and he shrugged, gesturing back at the truck.

‘Mine’s fast asleep,’ he said.

Before he could leave, Emily ran over and gave him a hug. He smiled and hugged her back.

‘Thank you Logan,’ she said and you decided to forgive her the informality this time, ‘you’re the best.’

‘Anytime, kiddo,’ he said and waving to you went back to his truck. You watched him drive away.

‘Thank you as well, mom,’ Emily said, giving you a hug too, ‘today was just amazing!’

‘I’m so glad you had a good time, baby,’ you said, kissing her hair.

You figured that you wouldn’t be getting her to go to bed any time soon, so ordered a pizza and let your daughter tell you all about her day.

If you thought that the chill between you and Logan had thawed a little, it was short lived. It wasn’t long before you were back to sniping at each other, never over anything major but just all those little things that he did that just seemed to dance on your last nerve.

‘If it wasn’t for the girls, I would very gladly never see you again for the rest of my life,’ you snarled at him one day.

‘Believe me, sweetheart, the feeling is entirely mutual,’ he snapped back.

‘I am not your sweetheart!’

‘Thank god for that,’ he muttered.

The girls, however, continued with their friendship, ignoring the idiocy of you and Logan. Sleepovers at yours became a more regular thing. Most of the time was spent with the girls writing and drawing their own comics – they’d proudly showed you and Logan the pages and you were both impressed. You left them to it, happy that they had each other.

One night you were going to bed and you could hear the girls still up and talking. You tapped on Emily’s door.

‘Not much later please, girls,’ you said.

‘Okay mom,’ came the reply.

As you pulled the door to and headed to your room you heard them still talking. Ten minutes you decided and then you would demand they switch the light off and go to bed. After the ten minutes were up you stood on the landing, about to knock again.

‘Is Logan still driving?’ You heard Emily say.

‘Yeah. Most nights. He only works the bar when I’m here.’

‘What about the construction job?’

You could see Laura shrug though the crack in the door.

‘I think he starts it soon. He’s still recovering so it’s difficult for him to do a lot of lifting and stuff.’

Recovering? What was Logan recovering from? Also…driving most nights? What did she mean by that?

‘Hope so,’ Emily said, ‘at least you won’t have to be by yourself so much.’

You thought your eyebrows might rise right off the top of your head. ‘Be by yourself so much’? What the fuck was happening? You composed yourself and knocked the door.

‘Lights out now, girls,’ you said, trying not to sound as angry as you felt.

You heard a sigh, but the light flicked off and you didn’t hear from the girls for the rest of the night. You knew they were asleep because you couldn’t. Was Logan going to work and leaving Laura alone, overnight? You admitted you may have left Emily by herself if you needed to run to the store but never for more than an hour at most. For all that she felt she was grown up enough she wasn’t. And Laura definitely wasn’t and VERY definitely not enough to be left alone overnight. You sat up in bed, phone in hand. You could call Logan now, ask him. Confront him. He’d deny it, you were sure. Did you really want to have an argument with Logan at, you checked the clock, fuck, 1 am? No you didn’t. And you didn’t want to speak to him about it when he came to collect Laura. The girls didn’t need to see you two having a blazing row and that was what would happen. You lay back down and closed your eyes.

On the one hand, you were glad that Laura had Emily to talk to. On the other, why hadn’t Emily said anything to you? Did she not see how wrong this was? Clearly not. You certainly hoped Logan hadn’t said anything to her, asked her not to tell you. No. Chances were he didn’t know that she knew. You rolled over and stared into the darkness of the room. You didn’t know what the fuck you were supposed to do.

The last thing you wanted was to see Logan but he arrived the next morning to collect Laura. You stood in the kitchen, nursing your third coffee of the day, scowling as the girls showed him their latest drawings. Who was this man? This man sat at your kitchen table, smiling at the enthusiastic chatter of the girls, asking them questions about the characters they had created.

‘You alright?’ he asked at one point.

‘Just didn’t sleep well last night,’ you said, ‘Tired.’

‘Know that feeling,’ he said with a small chuckle. You just grunted in response.

You spent the rest of the day wondering what you should do. You apologised to Emily for snapping at her, blaming lack of sleep.

‘Was that our fault?’ she asked and your heart broke.

‘No, baby, I just...couldn’t switch my brain off for some reason. Happens sometimes. I’ll be alright tonight.’

She gave you a hug and went off to her room. You poured yourself yet another coffee and continued to agonise about what you should do. There was really only one thing. ****

‘Mrs Abbot, thank you for seeing me,’ you said as you sat down before the principal.

‘Of course. You told my secretary you had some safeguarding concerns?’

‘Yes,’ you nodded, ‘I think I do. Um...Logan Howlett...’

‘Oh yes, Laura’s father. What about him?’

You told her about what you overheard the girls talking about.

‘That is concerning,’ she said, ‘I do understand that he has been having trouble finding work but this isn’t really acceptable.’

‘It isn’t,’ you said.

‘Leave it with me,’ she said, ‘thank you for bringing this to my attention.’

When you next saw Logan, he was storming out of the school. You and Sarah watched as he yanked open the door of his truck, got in, slammed it shut, then started pummelling the steering wheel.

‘What the fuck is wrong with him?’ she asked.

The screech of tires as he pulled off out of the parking lot made everyone turn their heads. You swallowed hard. You knew that he wouldn’t be happy but he was being reckless. You turned to see Laura standing on the steps to the school, staring at the place her father had been. You walked over to her.

‘Laura, sweetie, are you alright?’

She looked up at you.

‘I’m fine.’

‘What happened?’ Sarah asked.

‘Someone told the principal that my dad had been leaving me by myself overnight while he worked,’ she said, ‘she said she had to report it to...CPS?’

‘That makes sense,’ Sarah said.

‘He thinks I'll get taken away again,’ Laura said, turning to go back into the school.

Again?

You knew you’d done the right thing so why did you feel like you’d made a huge mistake?

[just-dreaming-marvel-2]

Oh my gosh that ending!!! But I love this so much

[mcrdvcks]

i'm such a baby when it comes to the cold (maybe it's because i have sensitive ears and raynoud's syndrome so when it gets cold my hands go numb), and i can just picture logan grumbling about the amount of layers i put on.

By the time the wind starts cutting sideways through the trees, you’ve already armored yourself like you’re heading into a blizzard expedition and not just walking across the grounds. Scarf doubled and tucked high enough to kiss your ears, gloves lined and then gloved again, coat zipped, snapped, and belted for good measure. Logan clocks the whole production with a look that says he’s counting layers the way other people count sins.

“You movin’ or settlin’ in?” he mutters, breath fogging like it’s offended by the temperature. He tugs his jacket closed with two fingers and that’s it, like cold is more of an inconvenience than a threat, and you roll your eyes because of course it is for him. You wiggle your fingers anyway, because they’ve already started that dull, numb ache that comes before they go useless.

You make it ten steps before the wind finds the weak spot between your scarf and your hat, sharp enough to sting. Logan hears the tiny sound you make, barely more than a breath, and his pace slows without him even thinking about it. “Told you,” he grumbles, though his hand is already at your back, palm steady and warm through all those layers, steering you just enough to block the worst of it.

Your ears throb, hands tingling like they’ve fallen asleep, and you hate how small it makes you feel sometimes. Logan notices anyway, because he always does, and he snorts softly when you tuck your hands closer to your chest. “C’mon, fearless,” he says, rough affection tucked into the words. “You’re gonna freeze solid if you keep fightin’ it.”

He stops, sighs like the cold personally insulted him, and peels off his gloves before you can argue. The warmth of his hands wraps around yours, big and callused and unmistakably alive, and it’s embarrassing how fast the ache eases. “Sensitive, huh,” he adds, not unkind, pressing your fingers into his palms and blowing warm air over them like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You lean into his side, scarf brushing his jaw, and he grunts but doesn’t move away. “You done?” he asks, already knowing the answer as he keeps your hands captive. When you nod, he tugs you along again, slower this time, shoulder angled to block the wind. “Next time,” he says, voice low and fond, “I’m the one pickin’ the weather.”

[just-dreaming-marvel-2]

I have raynauds too!!! I love this ❤️

[unlikeable-female-character]

Trilogy Logan and Reader -Exile part 6

It’s been a while but the next part of this.

Warnings: mentions of a car accident, not quite as angsty as it has been.

****

It took Logan three days to get back. Aside from a few naps in the car at the side of the road he drove, far too fast, almost constantly. When he burst into the medical bay he looked ravaged.

‘Logan!’ Jean gasped, ‘what are you doing here?’

Charles had not told anyone else he’d communicated with Logan of your accident. He didn’t want to in case Logan decided not to come. Clearly Charles did not know Logan as well as he thought he did.

‘Where is she??’ He demanded.

Jean took hold of him and pushed him down into a chair.

‘She’s fine! Just take a minute and relax.’

‘I need to see her!’

‘I understand but she doesn’t need to see you like this. You need to calm down.’

Logan stared at her. He knew she was right.

‘You could do with a good night’s sleep.’

‘I can sleep later. Once I know she’s okay.’

Jean sighed. She knew that no matter how many times she said to Logan you were alright he wouldn’t believe you.

‘One second,’ Jean held a hand up to him and went into your room. When she came back he stood up but she gestured to him to sit back down.

‘She’s asleep. Let me fill you in on what happened and then if you promise to be quiet you can sit by the bed.’

‘I promise,’ Logan nodded.

Jean explained that you’d had been to see Marcus. You’d confided in Ororo that you were going to break up with him, that his behaviour during the open day had been unacceptable. There were other things but Jean didn’t know what.

‘He did this to her?’ Logan growled.

‘No he didn’t, it was an accident. I don’t think he even knew it had happened until I called him.’

‘What did happen?’

You’d arrived at Marcus’ apartment and had let yourself in. As you made your way down the hallway you heard voices, Marcus and some of his friends. They were laughing, loud. As you stood near the door you heard Marcus talking about the open day, the school, your friends. He was being so cruel and laughing so hard. You weren’t sure you could believe what you were hearing.

‘Oh oh and then, right, little miss I can walk through walls like that’s fucking impressive to anyone, goes ‘oooooh he’s a genius!!!! Fucking blue ape type shit he was. Can’t believe they let things like that walk the streets among decent human beings.’

The sounds of agreement from his friends made you feel even sicker. You turned and ran out of the apartment and out of the building, right across the road.

‘The driver tried to swerve and avoid her but he couldn’t. Luckily he wasn’t going very fast so while she’s got a broken leg, a few broken ribs and bruises. It could have been a lot lot worse,’ Jean looked at Logan, ‘you okay?’

‘Yeah..’ he said quietly.

‘She’s going to be fine.’

‘I should’ve been here.’

Jean sat down next to him.

‘Logan, you couldn’t have prevented this.’

‘If I hadn’t fucked everything up then she wouldn’t have been with that asshole in the first place!’ He seethed, ‘I did this.’

‘No, you didn’t.’

‘I…’

‘Logan,’ Jean said sternly, ‘the last thing she needs is your self pity. You didn’t do this. The car that hit her did. It was an accident.’

He was quiet for a while. Thinking about you and what had happened.

‘Does that prick even know why she ran off?’

Jean shook her head.

‘I asked but she didn’t want me to tell him. Just let him know she was hurt.’

‘He’ll pay for this,’ Logan growled.

Jean put a soothing hand on his arm.

‘That can wait, why don’t you go and see her first?’

The room was quiet. You were lying in bed, your leg bound up in a cast, a few bruises on your face, but otherwise appeared unharmed. Logan was relieved to see you were not hooked up to any machines, just an IV feeding you painkillers and antibiotics.

‘She’s on a very low dose,’ Jean said as she followed his eye to the IV.

Logan nodded and sat in the chair next to the bed. He wanted nothing more to hold you, even just hold your hand but he didn’t think he had earned the right yet. So he just sat, elbows resting on the bed, watching you. When Jean walked back in about 10 minutes later, his head was resting on his arms and he was snoring quietly. She smiled softy and put a blanket over his shoulders.

****

When you woke up, you didn’t see Logan at first. Then you moved your hand and was surprised to find it hitting something solid. You looked around to see Logan, his shoulder being the solid mass you’d touched. You lay looking at him for a while, not quite sure what you were seeing. When he started to stir, you turned yourself, as well as you could, to face him.

‘Logan?’

He sat up, stretching out the stiffness in his back - you both knew it would last seconds - and rubbing his eyes.

‘You okay? Do you need anything?’

‘I’m fine,’ you said, ‘what are you doing here?’

Logan looked at you, your hand and his mere inches away from each other on the bed.

‘Charles contacted me. Said you needed me. I drove straight here.’

‘You drove..? Where were you?’

‘Canada.’

Your eyebrows shot up.

‘Canada? You drove from Canada? Whatever for?’

He looked at you.

‘Make sure you were okay.’

‘What made Charles think I needed you?’

‘He said that you were asking for me,’ Logan said.

‘When?’

‘After the accident.’

‘I…I don’t remember.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Logan said, ‘I’m here.’

You were silent for a long while. Logan said your name and you turned to him.

‘You okay?’

You let out a little laugh.

‘Marcus…the guy I’ve been seeing. He hasn’t come to visit me. Not even sent a bunch of flowers. And you drove from Canada to see me.’

Logan nodded.

‘You could have just picked up the phone.’

‘I didn’t want to pick up the phone. I wanted to see you for myself,’ Logan said, moving to sit on the bed. Despite himself he took your hand in his, ‘the thought that you were hurt or worse made me feel sick.’

‘Oh.’

He looked at you.

‘He’s really not been to visit you?’

You shrugged and shook your head.

‘It’s fine,’ you said and burst into tears.

Logan pulled you into a hug and held you for a long time.

****

You told Logan to go and shower, get changed, get something to eat. He went, reluctantly.

‘Where..?’ Conscious of the fact he didn’t have a room anymore.

‘Use mine,’ you said.

He nodded and went off. You lay back, thinking.

‘Jean!’ you called.

She appeared at the door.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing. I just wanted to know, was I asking for Logan?’

Jean sat down on the edge of the bed.

‘Yes you were. You were crying and in pain and all you wanted was Logan.’

‘Oh.’

‘The professor said that he wouldn’t have contacted Logan if he hadn’t been so sure you needed him.’

Needed him? Interesting use of words you told yourself. Well, hardly going to be asking after Marcus now were you? Y’know, the guy who clearly hates you and all your kind. The guy who’s not bothered to come and visit even for a few minutes. Logan drove for three days from Canada.

You settled back on the bed. That thought swam around your head for a long while.

***

After he’d showered, Logan sat on your bed wrapped in just a towel and looked around your room. He’d not been in here since you’d split but so much was familiar to him. The comfy chair, the endless piles of books. The poster on the wall for the production of Midsummer Night’s Dream that you’d been to see. He stared at it. It had been one of the best days. It had snuck up on him. He knew even before the final curtain that he was in love with you. And what did he do with all that? Fucked it up like everything else. Left you and ran off. As much as he blamed himself he blamed this Marcus asshole more. To be the cause of this and then to have the cowardice to stay away.

Yeah because you know all about that, don’t you, bub?

‘Fuck,’ Logan muttered.

He didn’t cry. He never cried. But he sat on your bed in that moment and sobbed his heart out. Not for himself but for you. You who deserved so much better than the shitty hands you’d been dealt by these shitty men. You were the sweetest person he’d ever met, only ever wanted good things for other people. You were so passionate about your job, about art and books and theatre. You made him want to be a better man. And he would be. Even if it took him forever he would prove to you that he was worthy of you.

Logan dressed and made his way back to the medical bay. He walked into your room to find Jean and Hank helping to ease you out of bed. A pair of crutches were propped up against the wall and while Hank took your weight, Jean passed them to you.

‘Just take things slowly,’ she said, ‘there’s no rush to get anywhere.’

‘Okay,’ you said, taking a few tentative steps. It was slow but once you found your rhythm you were able to make a few circuits of the room. You glanced briefly at Logan as you passed him and gave him a smile. Another few rounds and you collapsed into a chair.

‘You did really well,’ Hank said taking the crutches from you, ‘rest for a while and you can try again.’

‘Thank you. Both of you,’ you said.

They both left, Logan lingering in the doorway.

‘Did you get some rest?’ You asked, wiggling in the chair to get comfortable.

Logan walked over and adjusted the cushion behind you.

‘Don’t worry about me, sweetheart,’ he muttered.

‘Well I do.’

Logan crouched down in front of you.

‘I’m not the important one here. You are,’ he went to place a hand on your knee but at the last minute changed course and held onto the arm of the chair instead, ‘you always have been.’

He didn’t look at you but he saw you place your hand over his.

‘Thank you,’ you whispered.

As the days passed you and Logan spent more and more time together. Logan seemed happy being at your beck and call, not that you wanted to take advantage of him in that way. He just wanted to do it. There were too many stairs for you to manage in the main house so you’d sent Logan to your room to fetch various things for you to make the med bay room a bit more homely. He did so, often stopping off at the kitchen to steal cookies and other treats for you.

‘I could just carry you up and down the stairs,’ he suggested one day.

‘You’re not a donkey, Logan,’ you chided him.

He just grinned.

You and Logan were playing poker one afternoon when Jean walked in.

‘Oh high stakes I see,’ she smiled

For money you’d been using a bag of marbles Logan had confiscated from a kid who’d been flying them around the common room. Each marble, you’d agreed, was worth a million dollars and Logan currently owed you at least 20 million. You thought he was probably rigging the games to let you win but you didn’t mind. It was nice just to spend time with him. The past days had been much better for his presence. As far as you were concerned you had no expectations beyond just becoming friends again. You weren’t sure how Logan was feeling, your conversations hadn’t gotten that deep.

‘You have a visitor,’ Jean said.

‘Oh?’

You’d had visits from your family and most of your classes and every other member of the staff so you weren’t sure who else could be here.

‘It’s Marcus,’ Jean said quietly.

Your hands stopped in the middle of shuffling the cards.

‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ Jean nodded, ‘he just arrived about ten minutes ago. Do you want to see him?’

‘Um. Yeah I guess.’

‘Okay, I’ll go get him.’

Jean left and you put the cards down on the table. Logan had been silent. You carefully straightened the deck.

‘Will you please stay?’ you asked quietly.

‘Sure,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

Marcus walked in with a big bouquet of flowers and an even bigger grin on his face. He ignored Logan and thrust the flowers into your hand and bent to kiss you.

‘Good to see you looking better,’ he said brightly.

The silence in the room was thick with tension. You looked at Logan, sat with his hands folded in his lap, apparently calm but you could see the tick of muscle in his jaw.

‘Well, I’m in the right place and have been getting excellent care,’ you smiled.

‘Yeah I can see that,’ Marcus replied.

‘Logan has been keeping me company, stopping me from going mad with boredom until I can get back to teaching,’ and you pointed over to where he still sat, silently.

Marcus looked at him for the first time.

‘Oh. I thought you’d gone.’

‘I did. And now I’m back.’

‘Well…thanks for playing nurse maid I guess,’ Marcus chuckled.

‘More than you did,’ Logan growled.

You noticed Jean standing outside the door.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Sure is!’ Marcus said brightly, ‘just never been great with hospitals and all that stuff.’

Logan just glared at him.

‘Soooo when do you think you’ll be out of here?’ He asked.

‘A couple of days I think.’

‘Great! Get you back to normal. Well,’ he smirked, ‘as normal as you ever are!’ and he chuckled.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

You both looked at Logan.

‘It was a joke, man, relax,’ Marcus snorted.

‘It wasn’t funny. Man.’

Normally you’d have told Logan to back off but you weren’t feeling in a charitable mood. He’d been where Marcus should have been. He was the one who helped you with walking and dried your tears of frustration when you couldn’t get about as quickly as you wanted to. He was the one who did everything he could to distract you from the boredom. If you were being honest, Marcus hadn’t even crossed your mind for days now.

Logan got up and came to stand in front of Marcus. He picked the flowers up off the table and shoved them at his chest.

‘Maybe you need to take these and fuck off back to where you came from.’

‘Seriously?’ He smirked, ‘I thought she dumped you?’

‘She did,’ Logan nodded, ‘but she needed a friend when you didn’t even bother to pick up a phone to see how she was.’

‘Logan drove from Canada to come and see how I was,’ you said, ‘just FYI.’

Marcus just shrugged.

‘Like I said, not great with hospitals.’

Logan took one step closer to him.

‘She got hit by a car. I don’t give a fuck if you’re ‘good with hospitals’ or not. If you cared for her then you’d have been here. Do you care for her?’

The silence told you everything you needed to know. Logan glanced at you and you nodded. He took Marcus by the scruff of his shirt and walked him to the door, then out the door through the hallway and outside.

‘She won’t take you back,’ he spat.

‘Maybe not,’ Logan said, ‘but at least she knows she has a friend. You don’t like her let alone love her,’ he moved towards him again, ‘tell me I’m wrong.’

Marcus said nothing but scuttled away. When Logan got back to your room you were sitting on the side of the bed.

‘You okay?’ He asked sitting beside you.

‘No,’ you said quietly.

Not for the first time lately Logan held you while you cried.

****

You eventually wore Jean and Hank down and they let you go back to teaching. Only half days to start and no standing up for long periods of time.

‘You really don’t have to be here,’ you said, glancing over at where Logan had sat himself.

‘I know.’

‘Then why are you?’

‘Doctor’s orders.’

You doubted that.

‘You’ll be bored.’

Logan shrugged.

‘I’ll cope.’

Your class was excited to see you return and you were excited to see them. You’d been studying Macbeth, a favourite of yours, and you had been looking forward to getting back to it.

‘So the question is, how much are Macbeth’s actions controlled by what the witches tell him and how much is him exercising his own free will?’

You’d been hobbling up and down in front of the class, studiously ignoring Logan scowling at you. You felt invigorated, finally doing something other than rotting in front of the tv or playing another board game with Logan.

Once the class was over though -

‘Owww,’ you said, easing yourself back down into your chair.

‘Only got yourself to blame,’ Logan said.

‘Shut up,’ you snapped.

Logan shrugged and walked over to you.

‘Want me to help you back to your room?’ He asked holding out a hand.

You slapped it away. He looked down at you.

‘What’s with the attitude?’

‘My leg hurts!’

‘Should have done as you were told then.’

‘Just go away, Logan.’

He stood looking at you for a few minutes.

‘I mean it. Go away. I’m sick of you hanging around like a lost puppy!’

Logan turned and walked out of the room. You heard his footsteps disappear down the hall.

Since he’d been back Logan had been nothing but kind to you. But you were starting to feel a little suffocated. Even when you were a couple you didn’t spend this much time together. Well, you didn’t have a broken leg then did you, you told yourself, he’s just trying to help you. Doing a damn sight more than the guy you wasted months on and he’s not expecting anything in return.

You’d wondered about Logan’s motives, if this was just a way to get back in your good books and thus back in your bed. But as the days had gone on you realised that there was nothing of that behind it. He didn’t look at you like he used to. When you glanced at him and saw him looking back at you, the lust you’d gotten used to seeing there was replaced with concern. He was simply being a friend.

You hauled yourself up out of the chair and grabbing your crutches hobbled to the door.

‘Logan!!’ You shouted.

You waited only a few minutes before you saw his form at the end of the hallway. You leant against the doorframe and watched him walking back to you.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said once he reached you.

‘So am I,’ he said, ‘I’ve been a pain in the ass. You aren’t made of glass.’

‘I’m not. But I still need a friend.’

Logan gave you a small smile and ducked into the classroom to pick up your bag.

‘Where do you need to be?’ He asked.

‘To the professor’s study. I’ve got a meeting with him.’

Logan hooked your bag over his shoulder.

‘Let’s go then.’

You walked beside each other in companionable silence. He delivered you to the professor’s door.

‘Gimme a call if you want an escort once you’re done,’ he said

‘I will.’

You watched him walk off, easier this time, hands stuffed in his pockets, and you could swear you heard him humming. You leaned against the door frame again and tried to make sense of what you were feeling. You still loved him but you couldn’t let your heart be broken again.

***

Logan settled down at the kitchen table, staring down at a mug of coffee. Since he’d been back he’d felt happier and calmer than he had for a long while. You were a lot of the reason for that. He rubbed a hand across his chin. Did he love you? Yes. He never stopped. He wondered if you did but didn’t have the courage to ask you. Maybe he would one day but it wouldn’t be long until your leg was healed and you didn’t need him around you so much. That was fine. He was fine with that.

Wasn’t he?

[rosenclaws]

Secret Santa Mishap || Worst Logan x Reader

Summary: You get Logan a gift for secret santa but after hearing that he thinks it's dumb, you aren't sure what to do now.

warnings: some angst/Logan being an idiot, fluffy ending.

a/n: It's December and I actually got a holiday fic out omg. I know this trope is overdone but I simply do not care and wanted to write it with Worst wolvie because I love him. Anyways hope you guys are having a great month!

To be honest, You were never the best gift giver. And it doesn't help when you're trying to get a gift for a 200 year old grumpy mutant man who hates cheer and fun and is also the subject of all your romantic fantasies. Not a great mix there.

Logan felt impossible to shop for. Sure you could probably get him a bottle of whiskey or maybe a new coat but those felt so…boring. This was Logan's first Christmas in your world and you wanted it to be special.

Really special.

You spent days staring at the small slip of paper with his name scribbled on it. Wade's Christmas party looms over your head, inching ever closer where you'll be forced to give Logan his present (and maybe finally confess your silly little massive crush).

Finally you decided to go homemade. He had recently gotten a new job as a tow truck driver and he's been freezing his ass off. So what better than something warm and fuzzy. A scarf made from the softest yarn you could find. You spent every free minute working on it but you had finished it just in time for the party. A bright yellow and blue so it matches his suit and at the end you attached a little heart charm. It stood out against the colors but you hoped that by the time the party rolled around you'd be brave enough to actually tell Logan how you feel.

"What do you think! Isn't it festive!" Wade asks happily as he shows off his new outfit to you and Logan. He had barged into your apartment without even knocking with Logan in tow to, as he put it, spread some Christmas cheer. He was dressed head to toe in the ugliest holiday sweater and accessories you've seen. Bright clashing colors and actual Christmas lights woven into the fabric. A fluffy hat and scarf and mittens to match. You do smile seeing the mittens on his hands, It was the ones you had made him for his birthday at his request. "I think it's a fire hazard." You comment as you shield your eyes from the amount of light he's giving off. "Yeah because I'm smoking hot." Wade replies back. Posing sexily in a way that makes Logan roll his eyes. "I think you look fucking ridiculous." He grumbles as he shakes his head at Wade's nonsense.

"Not a fan of cashmere Wolvie?"

"No. All of that shit from those stupid mittens to those ugly shoes make you look like a reindeer threw up on you." Logan growls.

"My mittens aren't stupid!" Wade says with offense.

"Yeah they are." He says with a laugh as he gets up.

"Right?" He turns to you, his lips smiling slightly as he waits for your response.

"Uh well... " You mumble unable to get a real response out. You're trying not to take it personally but coming from Logan it's like a knife to the heart.

"I think you should stop talking now Peanut." Wade says nodding his head towards you.

"Fine, I'll be in my room. Don't put anything in the damn hot chocolate." He threatens towards Wade.

He spares a glance at you but you can barely meet his eyes. Logan stands still for a moment before turning and walking to his room.

Your face drops as soon as you hear his door close and a feeling of embarrassment and dread washes over you. Yeah, Wade was absolutely overdoing it and might start a small house fire but he called the mittens stupid. The mittens you had made. Mittens aren't the same as a scarf but if he hated those then he'll probably hate the scarf too.

"Um Hello? Lost in an angsty inner monologue?" Wade waves his hand in front of your face. "Don't listen to the grump, your mittens are wonderful."

"Thanks Wade, I just remembered I have to go do something real quick." You mumble, brushing off Wade's concern as you rush out of his apartment.

It didn't take you long to find a bottle of Whiskey that you've seen Logan sip from before but now you're staring at the two gifts in front of you like it's the hardest decision you'll ever make.

On one hand you could suck it up and tell the man you like him and give him the scarf anyways. You know, a homemade crocheted gift just like Wade's mittens that he called stupid. The heart charm stares back at you, almost mocking you for thinking that this was a good idea. Why would a man like Logan ever want something as stupid as a scarf.

The bottle of whiskey has a small bow you slapped on it. It's simple. Easy. But so, so impersonal. It feels cheap and dumb but at least Logan will like it. The clock ticks over to 6pm and you sigh as you realize you're out of time. You gently tuck both gifts into your bag and head to Wade's apartment. You should be filled with Christmas cheer but instead you're filled with dread.

"Welcome! Please take a hat." Before you can even respond Wade puts a Santa hat on your head and pushes you into the party.

You smile and make small talk with colossus as you sip on the hot chocolate Wade had made. Though it took you a few sips to make sure he hadn't done anything to it. The party carries on for a while and you can't help but notice that a certain someone is missing.

Laura's here and you and her talk for a bit but even she can see the way your eyes search the room for Logan. The two gifts weighing heavily as you still can't decide which one to give him.

"There you are peanut!" Wade coos as Logan walks out to join everyone else. He looks completely unamused as Wade tries to put a red nose toy on his nose, grabbing his wrist and growling until Wade backed down.

"Yikes, talk about a Grinch. And you're not nearly as funny as Jim Carrey." Wade huffs. You catch Logan's eye and you shrug. He rolls his eyes and gives you a half smile.

"Peter!!!" Wade yells happily, startling both you and Logan. As everyone turns their attention to Peter, you take the chance to slip out to the balcony. Some fresh air might help.

"Mind if I join you?" A gruff voice asks as the door slides open.

"Need a break already? You've only been here for a couple minutes." You joke as you scoot over to let Logan stand by you.

"You don't know what it's been like living here the last couple days. Wade blasts shitty Christmas music and he won't get off my ass about-" He cuts off before sighing.

"I'm this close to throwing the tree out the window."

"You really are a Grinch." You tease and he just chuckles.

"It's been a while since I've been around all of…this." He gestures to the lively party inside.

"You know, friends, family, the Christmas spirit I guess." He takes a sip of hot chocolate and grimaces.

"Oh." You whisper.

You hadn't even thought about how hard this could be for him. How long it's been since he's had anyone to be with during the holidays. No wonder he doesn't seem excited for any of this.

"Well I might have something to cheer you up." You offer as you reach into your bag. Your hand hovers the box with your scarf, your heart pounding as Logan looks at you curiously. At the last moment you grab the bottle of whiskey, chickening out as you hand it to him.

"It'll make the hot chocolate taste better." You say halfheartedly. Logan hums as he opens the bottle and pours a little in his drink.

"Thanks sweetheart, I take it you're my secret Santa."

"Yeah, I hope you like it." You try and smile, really you do, but it doesn't reach your eyes. He watches you for a bit. Scanning your face with a small furrow in his brow. Somethings not right and he knows it, but its not the time to ask. The last thing he wants to do is make things weird.

"I should head back in, take all the time you need out here Logan." You place your bag by the door and sigh.

Maybe you'll tell him next year. You don't notice the bag fall on it's side, a small box sliding out and onto the floor.

You try to get your mind off of things by distracting yourself with conversation and more hot chocolate. It is nice to be surrounded by all your friends, at some point Logan comes back inside. You can tell he's unsure but Laura appears by his side and he starts to relax. Even cracking a joke or two which makes Wade so proud. As the night dwindles down people start to exchange gifts but no one approaches you. It's not a huge deal, you don't really care much for gifts anyways so you just smile and watch as Wade gifts Colossus some homemade buddy coupons and Yukio gives Laura a bright pink sweater.

"I've never seen her fake a smile like that before." Logan says as he slides right next to you.

"She ain't fooling anyone."

"Well it's not like you're subtle either." You say and he just nods. Like father like daughter.

"I uh, I need your help for a second if that's alright."

"Sure, what's up?" You ask and Logan gestures for you to follow him.

The party becomes quieter as he leads you to his room. It's a lot cleaner than you expected. Very cozy even though there's not much decoration.

"I found this on the floor." He pulls out the box with his scarf and your eyes widen.

"Shit."

"I thought something felt off earlier but I didn't want to push. There a reason you hid this from me hm?" His voice is slightly teasing as he shakes the box.

"I…it's stupid." You reach for it but he moves it behind his back.

"It's from you it can't be stupid."

"Yeah well, open it and see."

Curiously he rips open the paper and opens the box. He takes out the scarf and drops the box on the ground, using both hands to hold it. He turns it around in his hands. The color matches his suit and its so, so soft and warm. He can see the small mistakes that can only be made by humans in a few rows. The back of his hand hits something metal and he reaches for the charm. He holds it between his fingers and thumb as he admires the little heart.

"Did…did you make this?" He asks quietly.

"Yeah, I did." You wait nervously as Logan remains silent. He can't take his eyes off of it. God he probably hates it. He hates it and now he's trying to figure out how to be nice about it before he throws it away.

"Look it's fine Logan. You don't have to pretend to like it I can just toss it or-"

"No!" He says quickly.

"Don't toss it please. I love it."

"But it's just some stupid scarf like Wade's stupid mittens." You say with venom in your voice. Logan looks up, slightly taken aback.

"What about Wade's mittens?"

"I made those for him last year...It's fine I know you hated those and you probably hate the scarf too so just forget you ever saw it. " You say and Logan feels like the biggest dick in the world. Of course he'd screw up secret santa like this. Insult the one gift he's gotten in over 20 years because of his big mouth.

"I liked the mittens. I was just, I don't know I was still getting used to the whole holiday season again and I said some stuff but I didn't mean it. And the scarf...I love the scarf." He wraps it around his neck, it made him feel so warm inside.

He can't remember the last time anyone took the time to make something for him. To put their hard work and time and effort into a gift meant for him. Just him. He can't remember the last time someone cared this much and it was hitting him like a damn truck.

"I...It means more to me than you could know and I didn't mean to hurt you with what I said." He reaches into his back pocket and holds out a small box.

"I know this ain't much but I hope this makes it up to you just a little bit." The box is wrapped messily and with lots of tape. You wonder how long it took him to do this. Under the wrapping paper is a small white box and inside that was a gorgeous bracelet. You had seen this in the window of a shop one day when you were out with Logan and Wade. You sighed about how pretty it was but didn't do much else given how much it was. You hadn't given it much thought since then but apparently Logan had.

"How...Logan this is too much." You whisper.

"I saw the way your face lit up when you saw it and knew I had to get it for you. Worked some overtime and covered some shifts but it was worth it." You don't need to know just how much Logan worked past his hours to save up enough for it.

"Let me help." He gently helps you take it out of the box and undoes the clasp. He wraps it around your hand and re clasps it so it sits perfectly on your wrist. His hands move down to your hand. Bringing it up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"Looks just right." He hums as he gently kisses the inside of your wrist. He likes the way it looks on you.

"I'm sorry for insulting Wade's mittens. For making you think your gift was stupid."

"You swear you actually like it and you're not just being nice?" He snorts and shakes his head.

"Sweetheart, I'm never nice." Well, he's nice to you but you're the exception.

"That's not true Logan. I think you're very nice, I think you're more than nice. Most of the time."

"That why I got a little heart charm on my gift?" He asks.

"Maybe." You gently tap the charm that rests above his heart.

"Merry Christmas Logan, we're all glad you're here but me most of all." You tell him as you adjust the scarf so the ends are even.

"Thanks sweetheart, I knew this world was worth sticking around it the moment I met you."He brushes your cheek with the back of his fingers and gently tilts your head. He leans down and kisses your forehead and you feel your stomach flutter at his touch.

"You missed." You frown as you tug on his scarf and pull him into a real kiss. His hands wrap around your waist as he leans into the kiss. Tasting the chocolate on your lips and wanting more.

"Holy shit it worked, and I didn't even have to tie you guys up and put mistletoe over you." The kiss breaks far quicker than you want as Wade rudely interrupts it.

"Get the fuck out!" Logan hisses as he reaches for the thing closest to him (a book on his bedside table) and throws it at Wade's head.

"Woah! That's really mean to do to the guy who rigged secret santa so the two of you could finally confess in a perfectly fan ficy trope way."

"Wade, get out." You tell him and he just clicks his tongue.

"I'm gonna start a rumor." He whispers dramatically as he leaves.

"I hate him." Logan groans and you just nod. "I know, but he means well and he cares about you too."

You kiss Logan's cheek and he slowly starts to relax under your touch. "We can always stay in here, camp out until the parties over." You offer and Logan grins. "Plus, you need to make up for being mean about my mittens."

He scoops you up in his arms and gently lays you on his bed. Propping himself up on his elbows as he kisses you again, this time without interruption.

"Whatever you want sweetheart, whatever you want."

[just-dreaming-marvel-2]

so cute!

[mcufam]

IRON MAN 3 (2013) dir. Shane Black, scr. Drew Pearce & Shane Black

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Chapter 1 - The Architecture of Almost

A/N: Chapter one is now yours. Let me know your thoughts, reblog and like if you’ve enjoyed!

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Warning: Angst.

The Architecture of Almost

Location: West Wing, Xavier Institute for Higher Learning

You didn’t expect to find quiet at Xavier’s.

And yet, there it was tucked behind reinforced walls and soundproofed glass, your newest design: a multi-layered sensory control room, engineered for students with hypersensitive abilities.

A sanctuary built not to contain their powers, but to soothe them.

You adjusted the holoscreen with a swipe, rotating the 3D projection of the room midair. Natural textures, muted tones, pressure-sensitive flooring. Breathable walls. Adaptive lighting.

It wasn’t just a space. It meant safety.

“Most people just slap on rubber walls and call it a day,” a deep voice drawled behind you.”

You froze.

And for a moment, a single, suspended heartbeat, you were back there in the cottage, back in the rain. Back in the quiet before he left.

You turned slowly, almost hoping it was all but a figment of your imagination.

But there he was.

Logan Howlett.

Standing in the doorway like a storm you forgot to close the shutters for.

He looked different.

No blood this time. No wild beard or busted ribs, just a worn leather jacket and hair pulled back, clean-shaven, almost. His eyes were still sharp and wary.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Likewise,” you managed.

There were a hundred things you could’ve said.

Where the hell have you been?

Why didn’t you write?

Did it mean nothing?

Instead, you looked back at the projection and said,

“I designed these for the kids.”

“I know,” he said quietly, still studying you.

Then,

“You built that cabin for you. This…”—he nodded at the floating schematic—

“You built this for someone else.”

You didn’t answer, but your fingers curled into your palm, tight enough to sting.

“You look good,” he added after a beat.

“Busy. Important. Real job and everything.” you answered almost too quickly.

“It was real before too.”

“Yeah. But it didn’t have a faculty badge and a security clearance.”

You glanced down at your Xavier ID badge glinted under the projection’s light, official and sharp.

You hated how small his smile made you feel.

“You didn’t call,” you said finally.

“Didn’t think I should.”

“But you showed up now.”

“Didn’t think I’d see you.” his voice remained sharp but yet you sensed softness around the edges.

“Well.” You exhaled. “Welcome back to the land of things you didn’t think through.”

Silence stretched.

Not the comforting kind you remembered.

This one had edges.

“So… you staying long?” you asked, voice quieter now.

“Couple weeks. Between missions.”

“Right. Back to vanishing after that, I assume.”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at you the way he had that last night, like he wanted to stay, but already knew he wouldn’t.

You stepped back.

Professional distance. That’s what they teach you in field consult briefings. Not emotional whiplash mitigation 101, unfortunately.

“I’ve got work to do,” you said, gesturing to the projection.

“I know.”

“Then go.”

You didn’t wait to see if he left.

You just turned back to the projection, even though your hands were shaking.

.

Logan’s POV

He hadn’t meant to come this way.

Hell, he hadn’t even meant to be back yet. But Xavier had a new recruit needing stabilization—some kid whose mutation came with violent energy surges and uncontrollable light pulses and Logan figured he could stick around long enough to help the kid keep from blowing a hole in the east wing.

Then he smelled her.

Not like perfume. Not like soap.

Like cedar. And graphite.

Like a fire in the rain and sketch paper warmed under a desk lamp.

The scent hit him as he passed the new wing, the one they said was under renovation. The doors were glass now, clean and polished. Not the clunky steel crap they used to use. Looked like someone gave a damn about aesthetics.

He almost kept walking.

Almost.

But then he heard it.

Her voice.

Soft and measured. And a little impatient.

She was talking to the AI system while adjusting some model with her hands what seemed like some kind of fancy 3D schematic, rotating mid-air, smooth and shining like it belonged in the future.

And then she turned.

And he stopped breathing.

She looked different.

Older, sure. Sharper. A little more steel in her spine.

Same eyes.

Same mouth.

Same goddamn breath he remembered watching fog in the cold the morning he left.

It hit him like a truck.

The cottage. The firewood. The way she’d tucked her knees up on the porch swing when it rained. The way she said his name like it wasn’t borrowed.

He hadn’t heard her say it since the night she kissed him.

Just once. Quick. But it carved into his bones like adamantium.

He thought she might’ve forgotten.

He was wrong.

She turned toward him like a punch she saw coming. Said his name like it tasted like ash.

“Didn’t think I’d see you,” he muttered. Weak.

It was the truth, but it sounded like an excuse.

She didn’t smile. Didn’t cry. Just looked at him like she was trying to figure out if he was real or if her brain had finally conjured him up out of spite.

Logan tried to stay cool. Calm. Professional, even.

But he was already unraveling.

He saw the training room projection, the way it curled around a core of peace and protection. No sharp corners. No fear. He knew what it was instantly.

“You built that cabin for you,” he said.

“This? You built this for someone else.”

It was supposed to be a compliment.

She didn’t take it like one.

Her badge glinted at him like a mirror.

All the years he’d been gone.

He knew he should’ve said something. Should’ve written. Called. Anything.

But he didn’t. Because leaving had been cowardice.

Coming back was worse.

Now he was just a ghost in someone else’s success story.

.

Reader’s POV – the morning after the reunion at Xavier’s

The war room had been repurposed again.

Now it housed light instead of blueprints for destruction, tall windows that let morning spill across polished floors, filtered through vines and UV glass panels. Mutants, students and staff alike, gathered at the long central table. Someone passed coffee. Someone else yawned into a stack of schematics.

You sat at the far end, spine straight, hair pinned up in the quiet defiance of a woman who would not let last night follow her into today. Your fingers tapped lightly on the edge of your tablet as you waited for them to stop whispering.

They weren’t whispering about the design. They were whispering about him.

You didn’t look.

Not when the door opened. Not when the chair across from you shifted slightly under his weight.

Not even when that familiar scent of pine, leather, storm cut through the air like a memory you weren’t ready to inhale.

You tapped your tablet. The projection bloomed to life: a sleek, modular training room with retractable walls, kinetic flooring, and oxygen-adaptive ventilation systems. A clean fusion of practicality and grace.

“The design emphasizes psychological adaptability,” you began, voice smooth and professional, “Spaces that shift to the user’s state of mind. Training isn’t only about ability, it’s about response to pressure, grief, adrenaline. This layout allows for fluid reconfiguration based on trauma patterns and behavioral triggers.”

Beast hummed thoughtfully. Jean nodded, arms crossed. One of the students, maybe seventeen, nervously brilliant, tilted their head and asked, “Why that central courtyard? It’s not optimized for combat flow.”

You turned toward them slowly, letting a small smile curve at the corner of your mouth.

“Because some things stay with you,” you said.

And then, just loud enough to carry, but only to him:

“Even when they’re not supposed to.”

The silence that followed was thick and pulsing. No one responded. No one could.

But you felt it him, still as stone across the table. You didn’t look up.

Instead, you tapped your tablet again. The design folded away into darkness.

“That concludes my update,” you said. “Next phase begins Monday.”

You stood, nodding politely before you walked out.

Still flawless and unreadable.

.

You were sketching again.

Back hunched over the light table, sleeves rolled, pencil dragging faint curves across simulated steel and soft plant matter, architecture that breathed, that bent and gave.

The door clicked open.

You looked up. Didn’t flinch or smile.

He stood there in the doorway, silhouetted by the hallway light, clean-shaven now, hair pulled back. Still broad, still cut from something ancient and wild. Just less hunted.

Logan’s voice came low. “Didn’t know if you’d still be working.”

You shrugged, gesturing vaguely to the desk. “Deadlines don’t care if someone drops out of the sky.”

He stepped in slowly, not assuming space but asking for it. The way people do when they’ve walked out once before.

“I figured we should talk,” he said.

You leaned back in your chair, hands loose in your lap. “Yeah. About the Danger Room designs? Or about the fact you ghosted me in the mountains like a campfire story?”

He winced, barely, but it was there. The honesty you’d been searching for.

“About all of it,” he said. “Mostly about… starting over.”

That pulled your brows up. “Starting over?”

He gave a lopsided, awkward sort of smile. The kind that said I’ve been chewing on this for days and I’m terrible at speeches.

“What happened between us… it wasn’t just survival or timing. You know that, right?”

You didn’t answer. But your silence wasn’t exactly denial.

So he kept going.

“I thought about that kiss,” he said, quieter now. “The one we didn’t talk about. For weeks. Every damn night after I left.”

He paused.

“I’m not great at staying. Never have been. But if there’s a version of this, of us, that gets a clean slate… I want it.”

You looked at him then.

He wasn’t asking for forgiveness, he wasn’t even asking for a guarantee.

He was offering presence. And maybe that’s what you’d needed all along.

“Okay,” you said, voice soft but steady. “Let’s see what that looks like.”

He stepped closer, one beat, then another until he was standing right in front of you.

Not urgent or possessive. You tilted your head up slightly, half a smile already curving.

“So how does this starting-over thing work, exactly?”

Logan’s hand brushed yours. Warm. Gentle. Intentional.

“We do it right this time,” he said. “Slow. Real. No running. No disappearing. And maybe I ask if I can kiss you again first.”

You arched a brow. “Maybe?”

He grinned a little. “Okay. Definitely.”

Then he kissed you.

And it wasn’t desperate, or messy, or a goodbye in disguise.

It was steady yet firm. The beginning of a sentence you both wanted to finish.

[rosenclaws]

I Won't Say (I'm In Love) || Logan x Reader

summary: Everyone tells you that Logan is in love with you but you just don't see it.

warnings: angst and fluff, Logan gets kidnapped, mentions of violence and blood, reader kills a few people but it's not graphic.

wc: 4.3k

a/n: This was a request from @manicandobsessive hehe. I really hope it's what you wanted I tried my best to make the reader badass and shit it's been a second since I did a request and I do love this song so I really really hope u like it <33

It was an obnoxiously hot day today. Seriously it felt like your body was going to melt into the floor at this point. The AC was chugging as it attempts to cool the whole mansion down. You're taking refuge in the kitchen with the rest of the team. Jean and Scott were at the dining table while Rogue and Storm were leaning against the counter. Rogue begging Storm to make it rain but she says her powers only bring thunder and lighting with the rain. Plus it wouldn't change the temperature.

You're nursing a root beer by the open window. Hoping to catch a breeze. Finally a familiar figure appears in the door. He's drenched in sweat from his morning workout. Why Logan insists on working out even in this heat you'll never know. He opens the fridge and pushes around a few of the things before sighing and closing the door. He glances over at you and his eyes zero in on the bottle in your hand.

"Oops." You say with a small smile as you take another sip of your nice cold drink. You may have taken the last one but in your defense, Logan had eating the last cupcake that you were looking forward too after training last week. So consider this payback. He walks over to you, everyone's eyes now focused on the two of you as he stands in front of you with his arms crossed. "Stealing my shit again huh sweetheart?" He nods towards the bottle and you just shrug.

"Call it even Logan. You ate my cupcake last week." He stares at you for a moment before smirking.

"And it was delicious."

"You're such a dick." You huff. You see his eyes dart towards your bottle but you grab it before he can.

"Not a chance." "Aw come on sweetheart, just one sip." He purrs and you roll your eyes.

"That's not gonna work on me Logan. You ate my food and I'll never forgive you."

"That's a little dramatic don't you think?" He says with a small laugh.

"Alright fine." He puts his hands up in defeat and walks out of the kitchen with one last wink. You happily take another sip from your drink as you notice everyone staring at you.

"What? I'm not letting him get away with that."

"It's nothing sugar, just Logan seemed mighty friendly." Rogue says with a smirk.

"Yeah, he took you taking his last drink pretty well." Jean adds, sharing a look with Storm who's just observing.

"What are you guys talking about? Logan wouldn't start a fight over a drink."

"Maybe not with you but if I had taken it, he wouldn't have been so nice." Scott adds. You narrow your eyes at them. The playfulness in their voices makes it feel like they're all in on some joke.

"He just knows better than to mess with me." You say.

The first time you had met Logan you threw him flat on his ass. Which wasn't easy because the man was like 300lbs but you had enhanced strength and he snuck up on you. Since then you and Logan would spar from time to time but that was it. He respected you as an opponent and a teammate. Your abilities sort of similar to his. Animal like instincts that led to you being the perfect combat spy. You were unmatched in hand to hand and built in night vision certainly helped. Logan had recognized your skills and the two of you managed to make each other stronger.

"Uhh huh, I'm sure the Wolverine calls everyone sweetheart." Jean teases and you feel yourself shift in your seat.

"You're all crazy, I think the heat is getting to you." You stand up and finish off the root beer.

"I'm going to the library." You mumble as you leave the kitchen.

"It's so obvious." Jean says with a sigh. "They're practically made for each other." Scott says with a grin.

"You think they'll ever see it?" Rogue asks and Storm just shrugs.

"I hope so, I think they'd be quite the pair."

You take a long detour to the library. Their comments getting into your head more than you'd like. It's almost like they were implying you were different. Special to Logan. But you aren't. He's just your friend and teammate. The two of you fight like friends, even siblings right? It always seems that he likes to rile you up and you don't take any of his bullshit. Fighting right back.

There's never any real heat between your petty arguments either. Like it's natural and fun. He makes you feel relaxed, never looking down on you but as an equal. It was nice. But Logan was just a friend. He didn't see you as anything more and neither did you.

"Hey sweetheart, you lost or something?" You look up to see Logan leaning against the wall, ugh you've accidentally wandered into the bedroom hallway. His bedroom hallway.

"No, I'm just walking around is all."

"You wanna get out of here?" He asks and you freeze. Why you? Why not Rogue or Jubilee? Well you're the one in front of him maybe that's why.

"Where?" You ask.

"Town. It's too hot and too boring here." You hesitate to answer and he just heads towards the garage.

"Come or don't sweetheart I don't care." After a moment you run after him. Fuck it, this should prove that you're just friends. Friends hanging out and going to town. The ride is pretty quiet other than the radio. Neither you or Logan were big talkers. After about 20 minutes he pulls into the parking lot of the bakery you loved. You look at him and he just shrugs.

"Your cupcakes were so good I wanted to try them again." He mumbles. He holds the door open as you walk into the bakery.

"Oh! It's so lovely to see you again dear." Martha, the owner, says happily as she sees you.

"Hi Martha, what do you have today?" You ask as she leads you to the case full of yummy cupcakes. She points out a few she thinks you'd like as Logan stands behind you. He picks out a few and pays for the box.

"Let's eat here, they've got AC." Logan nudges your shoulder and points towards a small table in the corner.

"Sounds good, I'll be right there." He walks over leaving you and Martha alone.

"Your boyfriend is so cute." She says with a smile.

"Oh no he's not my boyfriend. We're just friends." You correct her.

"Oh my apologizes, he just seems so in love with you. You should have seen the way he was watching you earlier. So sweet." She walks off like it was nothing. God what was with people today? You sit next to Logan who's already shoved half a cupcake in his mouth.

"Gross." You saw as you grab one for yourself. He scarfs it down and shrugs.

"You took too long." You roll your eyes and bite into your own cupcake. Damn it's good.

You two eat in silence for a while, just enjoying the food and the AC of the place. You see Martha send you a wink as Logan places his arm around your chair. You tell yourself it's nothing and wave her off. But you can't ignore the feeling of domesticity with Logan. I mean, going for a drive and getting your favorite sweets could be seen as a date…maybe. He paid too. But that was just because he had eaten your last one. He doesn't like you like that and you totally don't like him either. On the way home the idea won't leave your head.

"Martha thought we were a couple." You blurt out as Logan drives down the back road. He stays quiet as he turns the radio down, glancing over at you as he waits for you to continue.

"I mean how ridiculous does that sound? Me and you a couple? Pfft" You laugh though it doesn't sound as natural as you wanted it to. Instead of laughing along he's quiet, the grip on the steering wheel getting tighter as he finally lets out a laugh less chuckle.

"Yeah, that would be crazy." He replies. You look at him, studying his face. Logan has always been good at hiding his true feelings but something tells you that you might have crossed a line here.

"Logan?" You ask and he just looks at you. Flashing that pretty smile of yours. Whatever is going on in his head gets pushed down as he turns the radio back up.

"We're almost home." He says as he turns his attention back to the road.

You sit forward and let your brain start to think. That wasn't the reaction you were expecting. Not at all. Did he…no. No he couldn't. You glance out the window and the air shifts to something much less inviting. Something colder that made your skin crawl. Did you fuck it all up?

It's been two weeks since that cupcake run and things had changed. Logan wasn't ignoring you per say. He still said hi to you and would crack a joke to see you smile but you could tell that something between you had changed. You brain replays that conversation over and over in your head. Your own feelings becoming muddled as you question just how you really feel.

Even if Logan liked you that meant nothing right? He was the Wolverine, he had his fair share of lovers and hook ups. You're just friends. Love had always been a complicated feeling for you. Sure you loved your friends, your family. But romantic love was something different. You didn't want to be stuffed in a box of the damsel in distress. You made sure that you could always handle yourself, a crush doesn't make you weak but it also is brand new territory.

Logan was well, Logan. He was a safe space for you. He understood you on a level that the others just couldn't. He was funny and being around him gave you a sense of peace. It felt like he could see you. Not just your mutation or anything else, just you.

But now just being here in the mansion was starting to mess with your head. You just needed to be alone for a bit to clear your head. So you asked Charles for a small solo mission.A simple, easy one that let you disappear for a week without anyone getting worried.

"There's an abandoned base hidden in the mountains of Colorado." Charles hands you a file and you flip through it.

"It should be easy for you but…" He trails off. His eyes filled with worry. He doesn't read your mind without your consent but he's an observant man.

"I'm not running Charles, I'm just. Taking a breath." You tell him and he nods, not completely convinced. "You can leave tomorrow morning. Good luck and keep contact with Scott." It doesn't take you long to pack and prepare. A few people stopped by to wish you luck and offering their wishes of safety but they knew you could handle it just fine.

"Hey," You look up from your book to see Logan standing at your door.

"Hi Logan, here to wish me luck?" You ask softly.

"Nah, you don't need it." He looks at you and smiles, his head ducking slightly and you swear you see a blush creep up his neck.

"Here," He hands you a key on a chain.

"I know a guy in Cattle Creek. It's not much but its a room with some supplies." You take the key from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other. His fingers are so calloused it makes you shiver.

"Just be careful aright?" For me but that part is said silently.

"Always." With that he offers you a small nod and leaves.

The next day you jetted off to Colorado, clutching the key against the palm of your hand the whole ride there. A train ride into a bus ride led you to your destination. You slotted the key into the door of the small cabin away from town. It was pretty bare but it had blankets, some canned food, and water. In the dusty closet was a few weapons and more blankets, but also a very familiar looking flannel. It must be Logan's. He probably left it here a long time ago. You take it and shake some of the dust off, rubbing your thumb along the fabric. This really isn't helping clear your mind, but you put the flannel in your backpack just in case.

The mission is completed with ease minus a few complications. For one your communicator broke day one. You could imagine the scolding you'd get from Scott once you get home for losing X-Men tech. The other thing was half way through the week someone had broken into your room looking for something. It put you on guard for the rest of the week. You made zero attempts at connecting back to your team in case someone had been watching you. The base itself was basically empty minus a few lowly guards who you disposed of quite quickly. Getting the information you needed and getting out just as quick. By the time you were on your way home you could feel yourself relax. Though, one thing still lingered in the back of your mind.

Logan. His flannel was still packed in your bag, you decided to bring it back to him. Getting the alone time was nice but your heart always seemed to wander back to Logan in the quiet moments. You missed him. You turn the key around in your palm. He asked you to be safe, he gave you a safe house, he trusts you and respects you.

The joy you get being close to him was different. It wasn't the same as when you're with Jean or Ororo. Ah shit. Maybe…just maybe. You did like him. You decide to talk to him once you get back. Figure out all this shit in your head so you can finally stop the butterflies and the confusion. Though when you finally arrive home you don't get the welcome you expected.

"Oh my god." Jean drops the files in her hand. Running up to you and pulling you into a hug.

"You're okay." "Of course I'm okay." You say slightly confused.

"We couldn't contact you for a week." She looks so worried and you don't understand why.

"I know the stupid communicator broke and I couldn't contact you guys. But the mission wasn't even that dangerous." You explain but the fear on her face doesn't disappear.

"Jean, did something happen?" "You need to come with me now."

Charles' office is filled with your team. All of them looking like they haven't slept in days. The moment you walk in you're greeted with tight hugs and warm words.

"What's going on?" You ask as you place your bag on the ground. Charles gestures for you to sit as he begins to explain.

"Three days after your departure we received a call saying that you had been compromised. They had all the details of your mission, the location of your safe house, and your flight schedule." You start to feel a twisting horrible feeling in your stomach.

"We thought they took you and…" Ororo trails off, all of them sharing a look that makes your stomach drop. It's then you realize someone very important is missing.

"Where's Logan?"

That big idiot. That massive big dumb stupid idiot. Logan is smart most of the time. At least when it comes to battle strategy. Or you thought. Sometimes his method is just run in and kill on sight but he would never just do something as stupid as walk into a clear trap and be captured. God you can't believe it.

You pace around the jet as you near your destination. Your suit feeling far too constricting as every second feels like it stretches to a minute. Logan had gone on a rogue solo mission to save you. It was a trap. They want him, it's always him.

He was valuable and his mind could be tampered with while yours couldn't. They knew that and they used your safety against him. It took Charles days to finally trace where they took him and just like he had done you were on the jet before anyone could stop you.

You feel like your world has been shattered, you can't breathe or even think. Worry completely consuming you. You find a small corner of the ship, sitting down as you hug your legs to your chest. Jean walks over to you and offers you a kind smile. It doesn't help as much as you hoped it would "Logan is strong, we'll find him."

"I just, he's smarter than to just run in head first and get himself captured." You tell her and she just smiles.

"He is, but when someone he loves is in danger Logan doesn't exactly wait for a plan." She puts her hand on top of yours and you smile weakly.

"And you're quite worried for a man who's got regenerative abilities." She says, a hint of teasing in her voice. You give her a look and she shrugs. "I don't need to read your mind to see it."

You sigh and let your knees drop, opening yourself up just a little bit more.

"Are you going to say I told you so?" You ask, the closest you'll get to admitting that maybe they were right.

"We're landing, everyone get in your seats." Scott's voice echoes through the jet.

She holds her hand out and helps you up. A rescue mission for the man you might finally actually admit you could be in love with. You close your eyes as the plane descends. You won't be leaving without Logan and if that means burning this damn lab to the ground you'll do it.

Guard after guard fell at your hand. Normally no one could stand against your hand to hand combat but tonight your skills were exceptionally sharp.

"There's a lot of heat signatures coming from underground." Scott says into the comms.

"On it." You scour the floor for a door to the basement but find nothing. You let out a grown of frustration as you walk into yet another closet filled with nothing.

"Where are you Logan?" You whisper as you scan the room. Your eyes darting around looking for anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly you see it, scuff marks on the ground near a file cabinet. You push the cabinet out of the way to reveal a trap door.

"I found the entrance. I'm going in."

"Wait for-" The comm cuts out as you descend down the ladder.

You land harshly on the ground, leaning against the cold walls as you listen for any sounds. Far down the hall you could hear muffled voices. You started slow, walking quietly and waiting in case someone came by. But the closer you got the noisier you became.

"Is this really Weapon X?" You could hear someone say.

"I thought he was supposed to be a rage filled killing machine." You peak into the room and see two guards watching Logan.

He was slumped to the ground. His hands in cased in something to stop him from moving. Whatever the hell they used to sedate him was strong because his healing could counteract most attempts. You feel your heart lurch as you watch one of the guards kick him in the stomach.

"Pathetic." He scoffs as he leans down and grabs Logan's face. His nails digging into his skin.

"Omega level mutant my ass." Logan's eyes are alert even if his body isn't. He makes eye contact with you instantly. He silently begs you to wait but you can't.

Not after seeing what they've done to him. No. They were going to pay. You launch into action. Jumping one guard and slamming him into the ground. You quickly grab his gun and throw it across the room. The other guard jumps up and aims. Missing a few shots as alarms start to scream through the halls. You incapacitate the guard on the floor and duck for cover.

"Well well, another mutant." The guard taunts as he shoots through the cover. The bullets whizzing by your face.

"Here to play hero?" He says with a laugh. Suddenly the lights shut off. You could see perfectly. A flashing red light was the only help this poor sucker had against you. Too bad it would never be enough.

"Aww, someone's scared." You taunt. Quickly leaping away as the guard shot blindly at the panels on the wall.

"Where's all the confidence now?" You ask again. It's almost amusing to watch him panic. As quiet as a mouse you find yourself behind him.

"Boo." He screeches as you take care of him. His scream cut short as he falls to the ground. The lights turn back on making you squint.

"Fuck." You mumble as you notice blood on your suit.

"Hey sweetheart…" A tired voice says behind you. The power outage had released Logan from his restraints. He had ripped out the IV that was feeding him the sedative and his body was working overtime to heal himself.

"You're a fucking idiot you know that?" You scold as you run to his side, jumping into his arms. You hold him tightly. He smells just like his old flannel.

"What were you thinking walking into a trap like that?" You ask as you sit back up. Your hands are still on his shoulders as he moves to pull you in his lap. His breathing was steadying as he started to wake up.

"Did you come here alone?" He asks, dodging your question.

"No. Well the team is somewhere but I did come down here alone but that doesn't matter." You say quickly. "You shouldn't have done that. It's dangerous." He says worriedly.

"You don't get to lecture me about danger Logan. Why would you just up and leave without the team?" You push. He sighs, chuckling as he leans against the wall. He reaches his hand up to cup your face.

"Because it was you." He says.

"What?" You ask quietly. Your heart knows it, deep down your heart has always know it. But your brain still has to play catch up.

"God you're cute when you're clueless." He teases as his thumb brushes over your lips. His eyes admiring your beauty despite being covered in blood.

"I love you. I have for a while now." He admits.

"You do?" You place your hand on top of his. Grasping his rough hand tightly.

"Love have never been easy for me but I know it when I feel it. I heard you had been taken and I just…I lost it."

"But-"

"No buts sweetheart. I knew it could have been a trap but I didn't care. My life to guarantee yours is worth it every time." Your lip quivers as Logan's words hit harder than you ever thought they could.

All this time he had been in love with you. All this time wasted. Love was never a weakness but the fear of losing yourself had always been there but Logan loved you for who you were. Every time you beat him in sparing or stole his beer or saved the day. He loved you for it this whole time. You want to curse yourself for wasting so much time but that wouldn't do anything now.

"I love you too Logan." You grab the back of his head and pull him into a fierce kiss. He grunts in surprise but quickly melts into it. You're done wasting time. He groans as you bite his lip, his hands snaking around your waist to pull you closer. Your lips move together so perfectly it's almost like a dream.

"Fuck, been wanting to do that for a long time." He gasps as you pull away. You lean your forehead against his. He's pretty much fully recovered at this point, that sparkle in his eye is already back and so is that stupidly hot cocky smirk.

"My hero." He purrs as he presses a wet kiss to your cheek.

"Does that make you my damsel in distress?" You tease back. He raises an eyebrow but laughs anyways. You both stand up, ready to get the hell out of here.

"Hello? Hello? We managed to shut the power off to disable their communication scrambler. If you can hear us report back." Your come buzzes to life making you wince at how loud Scott was in your ear.

"I found him. Coming back to the surface now." You say and you hear a chorus of relieved voices. You turn it off to quiet the noise. You'll go back in a second. You just need to hold Logan a little longer. Logan grunts at your tight grip.

"Hey I'm okay, you saved me sweetheart." He whispers as he rubs your back softly. His heart beats loudly in your ear and its the sweetest sound you've ever heard. "Come on, let's go home." He laces his fingers with yours as he pulls you to the door. You weave through the lab halls, a sudden realization hitting you.

"You know, they're never going to let me live this down." You mumble.

"Neither will I." You glare at him and he just smirks.

"Come on, let me have a little fun. I've been in love with you for years."

You roll your eyes as you reach the ladder. Logan lets you go first. You pop the trap door open and are greeted with the smiling faces of your team. Jean holds out her hand to help you up and you take it. Just as she's about to let go she leans in and whispers in your ear.

"I believe this is the part where I tell you, I told you so."

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

I Think I’ve Seen This Film Before | Bucky Barnes x Reader

I am back to writing after moving cities, starting a new job, going through a death in the family, and breaking up with my ex! Please enjoy the angst.

Word count: 20.4k

Warnings: anxiety, talk of cheating, vomit

The persistent buzzing was wearing on your last nerve.

“Buck!” you called, “your phone is ringing- again!”

Bucky’s phone sat on the opposite side of the kitchen island, vibrating into oblivion, just as it had been for the past few minutes. Part of you wanted to answer the damn thing and put a stop to whatever telemarketer spam was plaguing your boyfriend’s phone. And if it weren’t for the cookie dough covering your hands, maybe you would’ve.

And so, you called to him again. 

“I think it’s probably pretty important!” You let out a sigh, “Cause they won’t stop fucking calling.”

Bucky chuckled from down the hall. Damn his enhanced senses. Not even words mumbled under your breath could escape his hearing.  

“Just let it go to voicemail,” he hollered, content to ignore his ringing phone.

Bucky never had much affection for his phone. He felt it was more of a bother than an advancement. That it didn’t fit comfortably into his life. He never wanted to be this accessible. This available to other people. Until he met you. 

Overnight, his opinion changed. Texting, he decided, was his favorite thing about the modern world. No longer did he have to wait for a response to the love letters he drafted. No longer did he have to hang around the mailbox hoping for an envelope stained with your lipstick. He could simply fire off an adoring text, and your replies were almost instantaneous. 

But it was uncommon for his phone to blow up like this when the two of you were together. When you were apart, it buzzed every few minutes with your responses to his loving messages. But when the two of you were both home, nestled in the apartment you shared, Bucky abandoned his phone. In his eyes, everything and everyone else could wait. 

He often ditched the thing upon returning home, leaving it on the counter or the coffee table. He didn’t squirrel it away into his pocket or keep it on his bedside table. No, he disconnected from it completely. Happily. He only ever wanted to be present with you. To be completely free from distraction when you were around.

But whoever was calling didn’t get the memo. They called once, twice, five times in a row. 

You’d called out to Bucky every time, letting him know that a very persistent individual was eager to get ahold of him. But he didn’t seem to care. He was too busy folding and putting away your laundry in the bedroom. Too content in this perfect picture of domestic bliss.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said as he finally swept through the kitchen, empty laundry basket in hand. “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

“It seems like something,” you told him. “What if it’s Sam or Joaquin? What if something’s wrong?”

Bucky thought it over for a moment. His distaste for his phone was strong, but his concern for his friends was infinitely more powerful. And while he didn’t want to be the kind of boyfriend who spent all of his time occupied by his screen, he opted to give the missed calls a glance. Just in case.

A familiar number- a number he hadn’t seen in ages- was splashed across his notifications. It wasn’t saved in his contacts anymore, but he’d recognize it anywhere. Before he had a chance to wonder why it was plaguing him, his phone began vibrating once again. That same number, one he saw as an ancient relic of a past life, illuminated his screen for a sixth time.

He stared at his buzzing phone. He didn’t want to answer. Had no interest in speaking to this person. But just as he tried to place his phone back on the counter, something gnawed at him. Nagged at him. Told him there had to be a good reason for these calls. 

He eyed you for a short moment and answered the call.

“Um… hello?”

There was no way this was Sam or Torres, that much you knew. But who else would call Bucky six times in a row? Who else would bother him on a Saturday? Whose call would he answer while at home with you? Nat was more of a texter, and Yelena had broken her phone in an “incident” only a few days prior. You found yourself at a loss for answers.

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky said into the phone, almost irritated. “Did you need something, or-”

He listened for a long time, throwing in the occasional “yeah” or “okay”. Whoever was on the other end, he didn’t seem thrilled to be speaking to them. But he was hearing them out. Giving them a chance. He even reached for a piece of scratch paper and a pen and jotted down a few notes here and there. You and your cookie dough sat in suspense.

“Um, alright. I’m going to…” His eyes found yours, “Let me think it over and I’ll get back to you.”

And just like that, the mysterious call was over. 

Bucky slipped his phone into his pocket. It wasn’t like him.

“Well?” you stared at him, expectant. “Who was that?”

Bucky let out a sigh. His head fell an inch or two. He smoothed the crease between his brows with the pad of his thumb. He stayed this way for a long, quiet moment. Until finally, he, asked:

“Do you remember me telling you about Tara?”

Tara. Tara. 

“Yeah.”

How could you forget?

He’d told you about his ex-girlfriend Tara a few times. She’d been a fellow special agent with SWORD; that’s how they met. The way Bucky described it, their breakup was amicable and quiet, no dramatics. He said it was for the better. That they simply grew apart.

Sam told a different story. 

After nearly three years together, Tara left. She got a job offer on the other side of the world. She didn’t know how long she’d be gone, didn’t know if she’d ever come back. And while Bucky wanted to stay in Brooklyn, wanted to stay in the only real home he’d ever known, he promised her he’d follow. That he’d go with her, if that’s what she wanted.

But she didn’t ask him to tag along.

Instead, she ended things. She boarded a jet and began an entirely new life, a life that didn’t include Bucky. 

And it destroyed him. 

He wanted, more than anything, for her to be happy. Wanted her to pursue the opportunity. But her departure ate through him like acid. It hollowed him out, turning him into a shell of himself. He had loved her so much. So deeply. So endlessly. They talked about the future they’d share. About getting married. He’d considered their relationship a sure thing. A guarantee. 

And then she was gone.

Sam helped him pick up the pieces. But it took time. A long time. Sam said he barely recognized his friend at times; he was more of a husk than a person. 

An intense feeling of unease settled into your stomach. Why had Tara called? Was she finally back in town? Did she want a second chance with Bucky? Would he leave you for her? Were you just his placeholder until she returned?

“Well, she’s back in the city,” Bucky told you.

Your heart dropped. A pang of anxiety struck you like lightning, but you refused to show it. 

“Oh yeah?” you asked casually. Maybe too casually.

“Yeah. And she wants my help.”

It took you off guard. 

“With what?”

Bucky sat down on one of the barstools that lived under the kitchen island. He scratched at his stubble. “Her new organization thinks they found another underground sect of Hydra.”

“Oh.” You stomach twisted. “Shit.”

Bucky nodded. “They want me to come work with them for a while. Help them handle it. Cause I’m,” he let out a small, cynical laugh, “Cause I’m the expert, or whatever.”

A small part of you, the selfish part, was relieved. Tara had called about a work matter, nothing more. There was nothing romantic to it. But a much larger part of you fell stricken with worry. 

Anytime something Hydra related came up in Bucky’s work, it knocked him off kilter. His nightmares returned. His anxiety worsened. It pushed him to the precipice, forcing him to cling to his newfound peace by his fingernails. It killed you to see him that way. Killed you to know that he was hurting. 

But he refused to back down when it came to Hydra. Refused to shy away from the harsh reality that Hydra was still lurking. Still skulking in the shadows. And no matter how it affected him, he was dedicated to toppling every last Hydra holdout. For the good of the world. For himself.

“So, what do you think?” He stared at you expectantly.

You stared right back. 

“Um, what do I think?”

You weren’t quite sure what he was asking. Or why. This decision was entirely up to him. It was his mental health on the line. His trauma being unearthed all over again. But you offered him your opinion regardless. 

“Well, I think it’s… it’s going to be hard on you,” you said. “Every time you deal with Hydra, it has consequences. But I know you want to take them down- rightfully so.” You shrugged, “So you should do whatever feels right to you. If it gets to be too much, you can always take a step back. And I’ll be here for you the whole time. So-”

Bucky’s smile put a stop to your words.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “What?”

“I meant, what do you think about me working with Tara?” He asked. “Don’t get me wrong, your answer was great- perfect, actually. And I definitely needed to hear that,” he smiled at you again, totally smitten.  “But I need to know if you’re comfortable with this. And be honest with me, okay? Because if this makes you feel weird, I won’t do it.”

“Oh, um…” you shrugged.

The truth was complicated. And though you would rather Bucky not work with the previous love of his life, what option did you have? How could you possibly ask him not to take this job? He felt a responsibility to eliminate Hydra, to tear them apart the way they did him. And you weren’t going to get in his way. 

In the grand scheme of things, Bucky working with his ex didn’t matter. If partnering up with Tara meant cutting off yet another head of the snake, it was more than justified. 

You swallowed to your immature, childish, petty feelings about the situation, and put on a smile.

“I mean, it’s a work thing. It’s not like she called you up and asked you to marry her,” you forced a laugh. “We’re all mature adults here. If you want to do it, then you should. I know how much it means to you that Hydra is wiped off the map. And I’m not going to stop you just because the two of you used to be-” 

The words ‘in love’ got stuck in your throat.

“Used to be together,” you said. “Plus, I trust you. I’m not worried about you straying.”

You were, in fact, very worried about him straying. About him spending time with Tara. About him remembering just how much he loved her. About dormant feelings suddenly awakening. In a previous life, she was ‘the one’ for him. The love of his life. And you feared that she’d returned to reclaim her title.

But before the dread could set in, he rose from his seat and made the way around the counter. He wrapped his arms around your waist and settled his chin in the crook of your neck. 

You feared he’d notice your thundering pulse. Your unsteady breathing. 

“You definitely don’t have to worry about me straying,” he said, his breath fanning your skin. “Thank you for always being so understanding. I love you.” 

You leaned back against him, eliminating what tiny space remained between your bodies. And for a split second, you felt at ease.

But the voice in the back of your head, the one that you’d wrongfully silenced in the past, told you this was a mistake. That this was the beginning of the end. It told you that you’d seen this film before and that the ending would by agonizing. It screamed at you, warning you that you were, once again, repeating a well-known pattern. 

But you muzzled it, just like you had before.

Because, while the situation did have a haunting air of familiarity to it, Bucky was different. He was loving. He was trustworthy. 

Wasn’t he?

Yes. Of course. 

You chastised yourself for even wondering. For doubting. It wasn’t fair to saddle Bucky with the weight of your failed relationships. To be suspicious of him when he gave you no reason. 

You wriggled until he loosened his grip, allowing you to turn around. 

“And I love you,” you let your lips melt against his. “So, when do you start?”

It wasn’t so bad at first. 

His days started early, much earlier than yours. He slipped out the door and into the dark morning before you woke each day, leaving you in an empty bed. Waking without him next to you, with his side of the bed empty and cold, stung. 

Gone were the early morning chats over coffee. Gone were the shared showers before work. But you didn’t allow yourself too much time to mourn these lost moments with Bucky. They would return one day, you knew they would. Once his work with Tara’s organization was over, things would return to normal. You just had to be patient.

And while your shared morning routine was a temporarily put on hold, your usual evening schedule was alive and well.

The two of you cooked and ate dinner together every night, just as you always did. You shared a glass or two of wine. Did the dishes. And when the kitchen was clean, you’d curl up against Bucky’s side for a little tv time. 

There was one notable difference, however. One noticeable change to your evenings, to your home as a whole. 

Bucky’s phone never left his side. He always had it with him, either tucked into his pocket or cradled safely in his hand. It sat on his nightstand at bedtime, only inches away. It buzzed with emails, texts. And he refused to let them go unanswered, even for a few minutes. 

Surely, he wasn’t doing it because he wanted to. Right? It was all business, all professional. It had to be. He was the expert, the authority on Hydra. He had to be reachable, that was all.

But his newfound habit didn’t pair well with his borderline constant comments about Tara.

“Tara said the funniest thing today.”

“Tara had a great idea.”

“Do you like this coffee? Tara introduced me to it.”

Tara.

Her name pinballed around inside your head, buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. It was loud, almost deafening. A deep, animal instinct screamed at you, warning you: something wasn’t right. He talked about her far too often and far too highly for this to be an innocent professional relationship. Surely, there was something amiss. Something going on between them behind closed doors. 

There had, at one time, been so much love there. Was it really possible that that love died out?

The suspicions piled higher and higher as the days passed. Every time Bucky reached for his phone, a knot twisted in your stomach. Surely, Tara was sending him flirtatious texts. She had to be. You found yourself dying to dig through his phone. To investigate each and every message she sent. But you restrained yourself, never daring to break the trust you and Bucky had so carefully built.

After a short while, you found yourself hating Tara. Cursing her. Raging against her inside your own head. The stories you came up with, the horrible pictures you painted- they twisted her into a villain. An evil siren sent to sink her claws into the love of your life and steal him away.

It almost frightened you how easy it was for you to hate her. To hate someone you didn’t know.

And she hadn’t even done anything wrong. 

But you couldn’t help it; you were jealous. Jealous of all the time she spent with Bucky. Jealous of how often he spoke with her. Jealous that, even when he was at home, she was still on his mind. 

And you hated the feeling. Hated the immature thoughts that stirred inside your head. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t overcome the weight of the green-eyed monster on your back.

Two weeks into Bucky’s new gig, you stood at the kitchen counter, waiting for him. He was late. On a normal night, he returned home between six and six-thirty, but the clock neared seven and there was no sign of him. He didn’t answer your calls, didn’t respond to your texts. It wasn’t like him.

You started on dinner without him, though you couldn’t remember the last time you cooked a meal alone. The two of you always worked together, evenly sharing the labor of making dinner. It was part of your routine, one of your shared patterns. And ever since your morning routine was snatched out from under you, you grew to cherish the time spent making dinner with Bucky. 

Suddenly, you felt startlingly alone. 

You woke up alone. Got ready for work alone. Returned home to an empty apartment. And with Bucky otherwise occupied, you made dinner alone, too. 

As eight o’clock rolled around, you once again fiddled with the tin foil covering the meal you’d so carefully prepared. After doing your best to keep it warm on the stove, a distinctive burning smell forced you to pull it from the burner. You supposed lukewarm and covered in foil was better than charred into oblivion.

As you tore another piece of foil from the roll and wrapped it tightly around the dish, your phone buzzed, and Bucky’s picture lit up your screen. All at once, you found your tight muscles relaxing. 

A deep, calming sigh left your chest. Some silent, subconscious part of you had feared that something happened to him. That Hydra silenced him once and for all. That he couldn’t answer your calls because he was lying dead somewhere. It was a reality too horrible to even acknowledge. And so, you’d pushed it to the darkest corner of your mind and opted focused on dinner. But that didn’t stop your hands from shaking. 

The tremors calmed a bit as you answered his call.

“Buck?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sounded out of breath. Hurried. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer- I’m so sorry I’m late. I got pulled into a last-minute meeting and it ran long.”

“That’s okay, it happens,” you told him. “Dinner’s ready. Will you be home soon?”

“Twenty minutes, I promise,” he told you. “Did you eat already?”

The question almost offended you. “Of course not, baby. I’ve been waiting for you.”

He let out a disappointed sigh, “Doll, you didn’t have to-” 

“I wanted to. I’d much rather eat with you, even if it means waiting a while.”

He was quiet for a moment; you could almost see the sad smile spreading across his face. “You’re too good to me- you’re the best. I’ll be home soon, okay?”

And he was.

The two of you ate your room temperature dinner together and discussed your respective workdays. Bucky, of course, namedropped Tara more times than you could count. And by all accounts, she was incredible. It made you wonder when Bucky would realize that you couldn’t compare. That you couldn’t compete with her. On paper, she was his perfect match. She was his other half. Tara was whip smart and worldly. Hilarious. Gutsy. And absolutely deadly. 

How could you compete against someone like that?

Sleep evaded you each night as you as you compared yourself to his lost love, to the one that got away. Over and over again, you listed your attributes against Tara’s, examining how you might stack up to her. You played out every possible scenario in your head. Not one of them ended with Bucky choosing you. And you couldn’t blame him.

His weekends were soon consumed by work. No longer did he spend his Saturdays and Sundays with you, browsing the farmers market and enjoying brunch. No longer did the two of you have movie marathons or bake fresh cookies. Instead, he spent his weekends at headquarters or locked in your home office. The two of you didn’t go on dates or spend time with friends. No, Bucky spent all of his time with Tara. 

A month later, Bucky studied you over another late dinner. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

He put down his fork and pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, your cheeks, searching for a fever. 

“Um, yeah. I think so…” you eyed the hand pressed against your cheek. “Why?”

“Are you sure? You seem tired, baby.” He looked at you closely, examining the most minute details of your face. His gaze dropped to your plate, and he frowned at your virtually untouched meal. “Are you not hungry? Maybe you’re getting sick.”

A small sigh pushed through your lips. 

It wasn’t at all what you needed to hear. Ever since Bucky started working with Tara, you feared he’d fall back under the spell of her otherworldly beauty, of her wit and charm, and leave you in the dust. The thought kept you up, driving you slowly insane each night. And knowing that you looked tried, that Bucky thought you looked sickly, drove another pang of anxiety into your chest. 

“I just haven’t been sleeping well lately,” you told him. “It’s been- work has been really crazy.”

It was such an easy lie. You reached for it two days prior when Bucky asked why you’d bitten all the skin off your bottom lip. And it came in handy three days before that, when he asked why your nails were bitten down to the quick, why your cuticles were raw and bloodied. 

“Oh, that’s right. Of course. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He removed his hand from your cheek and placed it instead on your forearm. “Do you know when things will go back to normal?”

You simply shook your head. 

And that was the last night you ate dinner together.

The following night, you found yourself back in the kitchen, cooking dinner alone once again. You’d never realized just how much you hated cooking until you had to do it by yourself. With Bucky around, you looked forward to making dinner every night. Looked forward to dancing in the kitchen and watching him chop vegetables with his expert knife skills. But without him, it became your most dreaded chore.

You glanced longingly at the clock and found a renewed sense of hope. It was nearly eight, which meant Bucky would be barreling through the front door and wrapping you in his arms in no time. You poured two glasses of wine and placed them on the table, allowing yourself a smile. He would be home soon.

At least, that’s what you thought.

Around nine-forty, your phone buzzed. Bucky’s name appeared in block letters across your screen. And before you could even say hello, he was speaking.

“Baby, hey. I don’t- I’m so sorry. I’m leaving right now, okay? I promise. I’m on my way.”

It took everything in you to keep your disappointment from seeping into your words. This wasn’t his fault- you knew it wasn’t. And it wasn’t fair of you to be upset with him. To make him feel worse. But you missed him. Desperately.

Never before had any of Bucky’s meetings lasted this long or run this late. You knew in your gut there was something going on. Something secretive and sinister. Something that would rip you to shreds.

The manufactured casual tone you adopted didn’t sound convincing to you, but you hoped he’d buy it. “It’s- don’t worry about it, Buck. Okay? It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, doll. I didn’t- I was gonna be home normal time. But I couldn’t step away from this briefing.” His words came out in a flurry, “I’m so sorry, I should have at least called. This is- it’s not okay. I feel awful.”

“Don’t feel awful, baby. It happens.” You wondered if this ‘briefing’ included everyone from the team. Or if Bucky and Tara had been the only ones in attendance. “Um, dinner is in the fridge, okay? I made-”

“Please tell me you ate without me,” he nearly begged. 

“Oh, um. Yeah. Yes. I did- I ate already.” 

With crossed fingers, you hoped Bucky would believe your lie.

With Bucky MIA, you hadn’t even considered eating. Nothing sounded remotely appetizing. In fact, your stomach had tied itself into a thousand intricate, painful knots. The nausea crept in soon after, and the idea of eating dinner flew entirely out the window. 

But it was easier to lie, to tell him you’d eaten. It would save him a little guilt. And if you could convince him that you’d already had your share, he wouldn’t ask about your lack of appetite. 

But you adopted your best happy-go-lucky tone and pretended that you weren’t losing your mind.

“Sorry, Buck, I wasn’t planning on eating without you, but it got pretty late and-”

“No, no. I’m glad you ate. I’m sure you were starving,” he said. “I’ll be home soon, okay? I can’t wait to see you.”

He rushed through the front door twenty minutes later, apologies falling from his lips one after another. He scooped you into his arms and dotted kisses all over your face between “I’m sorrys”. And you assured him that all was well. But you had to wonder if his affections were genuine. If his apologies applied only to his late arrival, or if he’d committed some other transgression he’d yet to confess. 

But you sat at the table with him anyway as he reheated the dinner you’d made by yourself. You listened to him tell you all about Tara’s brilliant work in the briefing. And you wondered how much longer you’d get to keep him. 

Dinner became non-existent for you, as did most other meals. You did your best to stomach small, infrequent snacks here and there. But the anxiety of Bucky’s possible infidelity made it almost impossible to keep food down. 

You still cooked, though. Regardless of the intense nausea, the biting stomach pains, you still managed to put together decent meals for him. You’d tuck the food neatly into Tupperware and stack it in the fridge, knowing damn well he’d never be home in time to eat it warm.

It was as if, after his first excessively late arrival, a seal had been broken. Never again did he return home at a reasonable time. He came through the door ever-later as the days dragged on. Nine-fifty. Ten-thirteen. Ten-thirty-five. Eleven. You did your best to stay awake, at least. To be there to greet him when he got home. But as his homecomings grew later and later, you found yourself dozing off before he’d even texted to let you know he was on his way home.

Some nights, he didn’t come home at all. You’d wake in the morning to find his side of the bed untouched. His boots missing from the front hall. On those mornings, it became obvious just how disconnected you were. On those mornings, you realized that the two of you were just ships passing in the nights. On those mornings, you wretched in the shower before work. 

Every obvious warning sign was there. Every red flag. Every neon fucking sign pointed to the fact that Bucky was having an affair. And it threatened to eat you alive.

You’d never been so miserable. So heartbroken. Pain radiated through your chest and pulsed through your veins. Every cell in your body throbbed with agony. You wanted someone to put you out of your misery. To wipe you from the face of the earth and save you from Bucky’s confession and eventual departure. But no such mercy came.

Part of you wished you’d spoken up. Wished that you’d told Bucky not to take the job. 

If you’d just voiced your concerns, maybe he never would’ve strayed. Maybe things would still be normal. And god, did you miss normalcy. You missed the patterns. The routines. The “boring” domestic life you once shared with Bucky. You missed talking to him. Spending time with him. Being close with him. The distance between you seemed to grow every single day. And you feared you’d never bridge that gap.

But you didn’t have to.

Bucky returned home one Sunday night in unusually high spirits. He found you in the bathroom, getting ready for bed, and lifted you into his strong arms.

“Baby…” He buried his face in your neck and smiled against your skin. “I’m so excited for next weekend.”

You were so lost in his touch that the words didn’t register for a quite a while. It had been so long since he was this affectionate, this close. Tears threatened to pool in the corner of your eyes as you relished in the sensation of his arms knitted around your back. His breath on your skin. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that things might be okay.

Suddenly, you realized what he’d said.

“Next weekend?” You pulled away just a hair, allowing yourself a glimpse at his face. “What’s next weekend?”

 “’What’s next weekend?’” He let an exaggerated, over-dramatic gasp fill his lungs, “I can’t believe you forgot! We’re going to the cabin, sweetheart! Next weekend, remember? It’s the weekend of the nineteenth! Keep up, doll.” He shot you a wink.

The cabin?

Sure, the two of you had planned to escape upstate to your aunt’s cozy little cabin. But that was agreed upon months ago. Long before this job. Long before Tara. You’d assumed that with Bucky’s long hours and lack of weekends, that that plan was defunct. But apparently, you were wrong.

“Wait, we’re still going?” you asked, incredulous.

“Of course,” Bucky said. “I told them I can’t work next weekend, no ifs, ands, or buts.” He snaked his hands from your spine to your sides and allowed them to slowly inch up your body. When they finally cupped your face, he pressed his lips to yours in a long, deep kiss full of longing. “I’m long overdue for some interrupted him with my best girl.”

Your heart fluttered. 

“I know I’ve been really busy. And tired. And distracted. And- I’ve been a fucking absentee boyfriend,” he sighed. The self-hatred in his voice was almost palpable. “I didn’t think this job would be so… intense. I’ve barely been home. And I know this whole thing has gotta be tough on you.”

Tears sprang forth once again. You did your best to blink them away, but they persisted, and a few rolled down your cheeks against your will. 

You sighed, “I just miss you.” The words had a fractured quality about them. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” The heartbreak in his voice forced more tears to your surface. He pulled you into his body, wrapping you in the tightest hug he could safely manage. “I miss you too. So much. I promise nexxt weekend is going to be just for us. And when I’m done with this job, we’ll go away together for a long time, okay? No phones,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “No distractions,” he left a second kiss to your nose. “Just you and me,” he leaned down and dropped a third and final kiss against your lips. 

It was a simple promise, nothing extravagant. But it was exactly what you’d been dying to hear. You’d been so convinced that Bucky would end things any day now, so sure that your time with him would soon be over. But hearing him make promises for your shared future helped ease the agony you’d been shouldering. And just like that, the storm clouds in your soul parted, revealing your first taste of sunshine in weeks. 

Bucky was still yours. And he still wanted you to be his. 

In the days leading up to your weekend away, you found yourself floating through life. Everything seemed easier, brighter, warmer. The constant nausea let up and the anxiety quieted. You ate a real meal for the first time in an indeterminable number of weeks. Sure, Bucky was still glued to his phone at home and staying late at the office. But you could see a light at the end of the tunnel. 

After the absolute misery you’d experienced, hope felt so foreign. So other. But you welcomed it with open arms.

All you had to do was survive until Friday. Bucky talked his team into granting him an early departure from the office, allowing the two of you to escape the city by noon. You’d drive upstate with the windows down, blaring some top 40’s hits from decades past. And together, you’d settle in for some much-needed reconnection.

On Thursday night, Bucky returned home around ten. And regardless of his long day, he was more exultant than ever. He practically vibrated with excitement as he shoveled his dinner into his mouth and rushed to the bedroom to finish packing. It was the most energetic you’d seen him in quite some time. 

“Okay, I double and triple checked my bag,” he told you. “I’m ready.” 

“I’ve been packed since Tuesday,” you bragged. “And I got us…” you rifled through your duffle and unearthed a knotted grocery bag. “S’mores supplies.”

Bucky was floored. “You fucking think of everything!”

When the two of you settled in for bed that night, it almost felt like the good old days. Like the days before your doubts and suspicions and private agony. Before Bucky’s obsession with his phone. Before his late nights and his stories about Tara.

You slept like a rock that night, taking comfort in the fact the next day, you’d have Bucky all to yourself for an entire weekend.

He woke early the next morning, as he always did, and did his best not to disturb you. But you were too excited to sleep any longer. As he slowly and carefully rose from the bed, your eyes flew open. 

“Happy cabin day,” you whispered into the dark. 

Bucky’s startled gasp sent you into a fit of laughter. 

“You scared the hell out of- were you just laying there in the dark waiting for me to wake up?” 

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Well… happy cabin day, you creep,” he laughed, still catching his breath. “Leaving at noon sharp?”

“Noon sharp,” you said back. 

He dressed for his half day of work and allowed you to accompany him to the front door. 

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he left a kiss against your forehead, “And we’re out the door right at twelve.”

“Right at twelve,” you nodded. “See you soon, Buck.”

But you didn’t. 

Eleven rolled around without any sign of Bucky. Eleven-thirty and eleven-forty passed. And as the clock closed in on twelve, you wondered why you’d gotten your hopes up. Why you allowed yourself to get invested in this trip. Why you believed that things would actually work out.

But still, you held out hope. You sat perched on the arm of the couch. Waiting. Your duffel and Bucky’s sat at your feet. Waiting.

Your texts went unanswered. Your calls went straight to voicemail. 

‘Maybe he’s just running a bit late,’ you thought. ‘Maybe he’ll be home by twelve-thirty. Or one.’

But he wasn’t.

Nor was he home by two. Or three. 

The familiar nausea crept back in. The anxiety returned.

At four, you tossed your packed duffel into your closet and stripped out of your roadtrip clothes. You donned a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt and sank into the couch under the weight of your disappointment. All the hope, all the optimism you’d felt in this last week evaporated. And in their place settled a pointed shame. 

You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naïve. You should’ve known better. Should’ve managed your expectations. This was your own fault, really. If you’d been smart enough to read between the lines, you wouldn’t be so heartbroken. 

Around five, your stomach gave a hollow, gurgling growl. You’d been too excited to eat that morning as you rushed around completing last minute tasks before leaving for your weekend away. And after the realization that Bucky had gone back on his word, you were too sullen to even think about food, made nauseous by your anxiety.

But the nausea subsided for a moment, leaving an unbridled hunger in its wake. For a long moment, you considered putting together a simple dinner. There were groceries in the fridge, and you certainly had plenty of time to cook and eat, seeing as Bucky sabotaged your plans. But you didn’t have it in you.

Every night that you cooked dinner alone required a herculean effort. You had to push yourself, had to give yourself a rallying speech. And every night, it worked. Every night, you somehow found it in you to drag yourself to the kitchen and assemble a decent meal- albeit, a meal you wouldn’t eat. But with your hopes for a romantic weekend away dashed, the pep-talk didn’t work. Encouragement didn’t work. Nothing on the planet could force you to make even the simplest dinner. The kitchen seemed too far; you couldn’t fathom walking all the way to the cupboard for a snack.

But your bedroom? That was close by. That was doable. 

With a pitiful groan, you heaved yourself up off the couch and lugged your body into the next room. You fetched your duffle out of the closet and fished your hand around inside until you unearthed the bag of s’mores supplies. With your bounty tucked under your arm, you made the journey back into the living room and settled onto the couch once again.

A few marshmallows and a graham cracker or two would have to suffice; it was all you could manage. 

At six, your phone rang. Without even looking at the screen, you knew it was Bucky. Knew he’d be guilty and repentant and upset. Knew he’d promise to make it up to you. Knew he had a perfectly good reason for blowing off your trip. 

The petty part of you wondered if he’d simply had trouble tearing himself from Tara’s side. 

On the final ring, you answered his call. 

And you were right, he was guilty. And repentant. And upset.

“Baby, I’m- you have no idea how sorry I am. I wanted to call sooner, we were just- I was so busy. We’re working on a new lead and-” he huffed, “It’s not an excuse, I know it’s not an excuse. I made you a promise and I’m so sorry I let you down again.”

A few tears welled in your eyes, your nose burned. 

“It’s fine,” you said. “Happens.”

“I’m on my way home right now, I’ll be there as quickly as I can and as soon as I get there, we’ll leave for the cabin. We can-”

“We’re gonna hit too much traffic,” you told him, your voice flat. “That was one of the reasons we decided to leave at noon. We didn’t want to get stuck, remember?”

“Right. Well…” He went quiet for a moment as he searched for the right thing to say- for anything to say. “T wanted me to extend her apologies.”

‘T’? He was giving her nicknames now?

“She didn’t mean to keep me so long,” he said.

Your pitiful dinner churned in your stomach, fighting desperately to crawl back up your esophagus. 

Tara. Kept him. It seemed to you that Bucky was somehow reading your mind and acting on your greatest fears.

“Hey, have you eaten yet?” He asked, filling the silence, “I can pick up something for dinner, anything you want.”

The marshmallows and graham crackers looked at you with pity.

“That’s okay, I already- I’m not hungry,” you sighed. You didn’t mean to sound so dejected, but you didn’t have the energy to hide it. “I’ll just see you when you get home.”

You hung up and let your phone slide in between the couch cushions. Never before had you felt so much like an island.

Bucky tore through the door twenty minutes later, his face shiny with sweat. You knew he’d desperately rushed home, hoping it would somehow fix the situation or at least mitigate some of your disappointment. It didn’t. 

“Sweetheart…” he flew to the couch and sat by your side, “I am so, so sorry. I- I didn’t mean to be late.”

He eyed you for a moment, waiting for you to speak. But you didn’t. You remained still, leaning back against the couch cushions. There were no tears, no rageful words. You were quiet. Resigned. 

He averted his gaze, too guilty to even look at you.

“I didn’t want to stay,” he swore. “But T needed me. She practically begged me.”

T needed him. Not the team. Tara. 

It should’ve upset you, but it didn’t. You were past the point of being upset.

“Six hours late is…” You shook your head. “How does that even happen?”

Bucky ran a hand down the side of his face, “I don’t know. I’m the authority on this stuff and Tara said it was really important, so I- it doesn’t matter. I told her I needed to leave at noon, and I didn’t. I fucked up, not her.”

You nodded. You didn’t want to fight with him. And even if you did, you were too tired. 

“I hope you know I’m not actively trying to make you miserable. I don’t want to be gone all the time.” He ran a hand through his hair, “I hate this. I hate that we never get to do anything together, and I hate that I can never spend any real time with you, and I hate that you look so…” He fell silent for a long moment as he drank you in. 

His close observance made you want to shrink away. You knew he was taking inventory of your hollow, heartbroken stare. Your tired eyes. These days, you barely recognized yourself in the mirror. The face looking back at you wasn’t yours- it couldn’t be. It was too empty. Too deflated. More like a fragile husk than a person. 

 “I… I don’t remember the last time I saw you really smile,” the realization swept over him as he spoke.  “Or… heard you laugh,” a deep crease formed between his brows. “I miss it. I miss you.”

You nodded, feeling suddenly guilty. The cynical, sour part of your brain had gotten to you, convincing you that Bucky was relishing in your destruction. That he was taking joy in draining you, gutting you. 

But as you watched the tears gather slowly in his eyes, you realized just how wrong you’d been.

 “I didn’t think it would be like this,” he swore. “I knew I’d be busy, but I…” He shook his head, “I didn’t know I’d be leaving  you alone all the time. And breaking promises. And it’s-” With the back of his left hand, he all too aggressively swiped a rogue tear from his cheek; you were certain the sharp bite of the metal stung as it dug into his skin. “Hurting you like this is- it’s my biggest regret. And that includes everything I did for Hydra. I promised you we’d always be on the same team, and I’m…”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket; your chest tightened. Was he really pausing to check a text from Tara? Now?

“I’m calling the Tara,” he said, “I’m quitting.”

You unearthed yourself from the couch cushions, yanked upright by Bucky’s words. “What?”

“I can’t do it anymore. If I keep working on this, I’m gonna lose you,” he said, his voice wavering, desperate. “And I can’t risk that.”

Suddenly, a distinct and pointed feeling of guilt engulfed you. Here Bucky was, prepared to abandon his efforts to topple Hydra- for you. He was willing to allow that hideous, evil organization to rise again- for you. He was ready to default on the promise he made to himself- for you. 

How could you have doubted him? How could you have been so suspicious? He’d done nothing wrong, aside from coming home late. But that wasn’t an indictment of his character or an accurate depiction of who he was as a partner. He was kind. He was trustworthy. He was loving. 

His fingers flew over his screen, dialing Tara’s number; you didn’t love that he had it memorized. But before he could finish, you rested a hand atop his, stopping him.

He stared at you, “What are you-”

“I can’t let you quit.” 

“But-”

“If you don’t see this through, you’ll regret it. It’ll eat away at you for the rest of your life.”

He tried to protest, to prove you wrong, but you silenced him.

“I know you, Buck. I know how you feel about Hydra. And even though I’m… yeah, I’m miserable right now, but it’s fine. It’s short-term. I’ll survive.” You outstretched your free hand and settled it on his forearm. “You need to do this for you. If you quit, you’ll hate yourself. And if, heaven forbid, Hydra makes some big resurgence, you’ll always blame yourself. You’ll always wonder if you could’ve stopped it, here and now.”

He considered your words for a long, quiet moment; you watched a war rage beneath his surface. You knew you were right. Knew that you’d read his mind. Knew that if he sat idly by and allowed Hydra to claw its way back to power, it would kill him. People would get hurt; people would die. And it would be his fault, at least partially. But he couldn’t help the desperate longing in his gaze, the fraught ache as he stared at you. 

You could practically see him being torn in two by the nearly impossible choice.

“You’re…” he gave a small shake of his head, “You’re right. But this whole situation is- it’s eating you alive. You just said that you’re miserable. I can’t-” He looked down at his phone once again, “I can’t let you to be miserable. I can’t do that to you.”

You shrugged, hoping to assuage some of his guilt. “So, it’s not ideal.” The laughed you tacked onto the end didn’t convince him; it didn’t even convince you. 

A long silence filled the room. A deep frown settled Bucky’s into Bucky’s mouth as he hemmed and hawed over his options. You knew he’d choose to stay on. Hoped he’d quit. Feared he’d tell you he was leaving you for Tara.

Finally, he spoke.

“I can’t… I can’t walk away from the job,” he sighed, “It goes against everything in me.”

You gave him a polite nod; his decision wasn’t a surprise.

“But that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with- with the way that things have been going for us,” he said. “I’ve been so preoccupied that I haven’t really been- what does my therapist call it?” He thought it over for a moment. “I haven’t been ‘emotionally present’. I haven’t been physically present much, either.”

You shrugged, “You’ve been under a lot of stress. I understand-”

“Yeah, but you’ve been in this by yourself,” he huffed, angry at himself. “And it’s not fair. I turned this into something one-sided.”

Alarm bells blared in your head at the word “one-sided”. What the hell did he mean by that? Was this him telling you that your feelings were no longer requited? Was he apologizing for hurting you, only so he could tell you he was leaving you?

“I’m gonna tell Tara I have to scale back my hours, or something.”

The alarms quieted a few decibels.

“If there’s anything I can do to make this whole thing easier on you, all you have to do is tell me. I’ll do it. Whatever it is.” He bit down on the inside of his cheek, “Cause I can’t keep doing this to you. I can’t keep apologizing and hoping that it’ll fix all the late nights and broken promises.” He shrugged, “But even though I know it won’t fix anything… I’m sorry. I mean it.”

Another long stretch of quiet occurred as you looked him over. His shoulders were hunched in defeat, devastation. His jaw was tense, his brow furrowed. He held one of your hands in his warm palm, and rested his metallic hand on top, as though cradling something delicate. Something precious. He looked genuinely miserable. Genuinely despondent. And your heart ached for him.

He was a good person. He took this job to protect the world, to protect you. Who were you to crucify him for coming home late a few times? Who were you to be suspicious of his intentions when all he wanted was to mend things with you? It wasn’t fair to accuse him of infidelity. To assume that he was stepping out on you behind your back. Your insecurity, you decided, was not his fault nor his problem. 

And so, you vowed to stop jumping to conclusions. To stop assuming the worst of him. To stop writing fiction about what was going on between Bucky and ‘T’. 

However, you did want to ask him one question. 

“I really appreciate the apology- the apologies,” you corrected yourself. “And I know you’re not doing anything malicious. You’re just trying to do your best.”

He nodded. 

“You’re not in an easy position here. I want a lot from you; your job wants a lot from you. You’re being stretched really thin right now. And I know you’re stressed out about how this is affecting me.”

Bucky nodded again, more emphatically this time. 

“There is- there’s one thing you could do that might make things easier on me,” you told him.

Bucky scooted a bit closer, “anything.”

“And I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”

“Cross my heart.”

You hesitated, second-guessing your question. But if you were to stay sane for the remainder of this job, you needed a straight answer. There wasn’t a mature, adult way to ask. Each way you phrased it sounded pettier and more childish than the last. 

And so, you simply dropped the question in his lap. 

“Is there anything going on between you and Tara? Romantically or-” you winced, “Sexually?”

He stared at you, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. 

Was he simply surprised to hear such a preposterous question? Or was he shocked that you figured out about his torrid affair?

“What?” he finally said. “Between Tara and- no!” He shook his head, an incredulous look on his face. “I would never do that.”

The weight that had been sitting on your chest ever since Tara’s first phone call suddenly felt lighter. It didn’t vanish completely, but it lessened. You’d been aching to hear those words come out of his mouth. And now that they finally had.

“I’m not that kind of guy, sweetheart. I don’t do that sort of thing,” he swore. “Did you think that I was-”

You forced a laugh and shrugged. “No, no. Of course not. I didn’t actually think you’d-” the word got stuck in your throat. You had to force it out, “-cheat on me,” you lied. “But with the long hours and the late nights and all the texts and phone calls you guys share…” 

“It is not like that, I promise,” he said, denying the accusation with his entire being. “Tara is great, and yeah, we spend a lot of time together. But I love you. You are the only person for me.”

He went on. And on. And on. For a solid two minutes, at least. He vowed that he wasn’t sleeping with Tara, swearing on every holy book in existence that he didn’t have feelings for her. He promised that he was in love with you, that he wanted you, that you were the love of his life. Only you.

And it should’ve made you feel better. But as Bucky continued his unrelenting, gushing promises about his love for you, he unknowingly planted more seeds of doubt. He strong denouncements and fierce denial of any romantic or sexual wrongdoing brought one phrase to mind: 

“Thou dost protest too much.”

You knew then, without a doubt, that you were losing your mind. 

But you couldn’t stop the vicious cycle; the ghosts of relationships past refused to allow it. And so, over the course of the next few minutes, you found yourself endlessly oscillating between ‘he’s laying it on thick to hide the fact that he’s cheating and ‘he loves me so much, it’s so awful of me to think he’s hiding something.’ 

You thanked the universe that mind reading was not amongst Bucky’s enhanced abilities. If he’d been able to hear all of your thoughts, if he knew how quickly your pendulum swung from one end of the spectrum to the next, he’d think you were crazy.

“All this to say,” he paused, and locked eyes with you in a moment of deep, genuine connection. “I love you. And only you. I don’t want anyone else.”

And though a sliver of suspicion remained, you accepted his words at face value. 

“I love you too, Buck.”

He pulled you in for slow, long kiss. The two of you melted together, desperately affixing your bodies together in an attempt to make up for lost time. 

“What do you think?” Bucky said when the two of you finally parted, “You still want to go up to the cabin tomorrow?”

You had no reason not to. You gave Bucky the affirmative and a wide smile stretched across his face. The previous night’s excitement returned and together, you made a plan for the following morning. 

But when the following morning came, you woke to an empty bed. Again.

When your alarm went off at seven, you bolted upright. Today was the day that things between you and Bucky were finally going to get back on track. But when you turned to his side of the bed, he was nowhere to be found. His pillow was cold. 

“Buck?” you called, your voice bouncing off the walls of the deserted apartment. “Are you here?”

No answer. 

“Of fucking course.” 

With a deeply disappointed sigh, you flopped back down and decided to sleep until noon. How could he do this to you- again? How could he ditch you? How could he promise to be more present, only to turn around and disappear? A tornado of anger swirled inside your chest, interrupted only by tidal waves of hurt. Of grief. 

But just as the first tear slid its way down your cheek, the front door opened. 

Cautious, quiet footsteps crept through the living room, down the short hallway, and into the bedroom. Bucky’s head slowly peeked around the corner. And once he realized you were awake, he rushed to your bedside with his hands concealed behind his back. 

“Good morning, sweet- hey, are you okay?” Concern eclipsed his smile as he eyed the rogue tears clinging to your lashes. “Are you crying?”

You wiped your eyes with your t-shirt and gave a shake of your head, “No, I’m- I just had a really strange dream. It was a sad one.”

Bucky frowned, “I’m sorry, baby. Do you think that a bacon, egg, cheese, and hashbrown breakfast sandwich on an onion bagel would help?”

Your eyes widened, “You went to The Hot Bagel?”

Bucky nodded. From behind his back, he revealed the brown paper bag printed with your favorite bagel shop’s logo.

“Oh my god, this is- how long was the line?” In one swift motion you stole the bag from Bucky’s grasp and tore into it, revealing a miracle wrapped in tinfoil.

“It wasn’t long at all. There were only two people in front of me,” Bucky said, his smile proud.

“Buck…” you narrowed your eyes at him.

His face dropped. He feared that he’d ordered incorrectly. That he’d taken the wrong bag from the counter. “What?”

“If there were only two people in front of you, what time did you get there?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he gave a small shrug. 

“But it’s one of the busiest shops in the city and-”

“And I know it’s your favorite. So, I went.” He said it so matter of factly, as though it were a no brainer. “I would’ve been back a little earlier, but the onion bagels weren’t quite ready when I got there. I almost got you an everything instead, but…”

Your expression grew incredulous. He let out a belly laugh. 

“But I knew you’d give me that exact look. So, I waited a little longer.”

Together, the two of you inhaled what you deemed the best breakfast sandwich in New York. And once you’d tucked the s’mores supplies back into your bag and gotten ready for the drive, Bucky led you by the hand down to the car. 

The drive was exactly what you’d imagined. Windows down. Clear skies. Invigorating music. Bucky danced with you to today’s hits. Eighties ballads. Forties crooners. He provided backup vocals and took the occasional solo. This was how it was supposed to be. This was what your relationship had always been: warm, safe, comfortable.

There was no room here for doubt or suspicion or distrust. 

As the cabin rolled into view, you made a conscious decision to remove any inkling of wariness from your mind. Bucky was yours. And you were his. And that was that. 

Like a perfect gentleman, he unloaded the car and carried the bags up the porch steps. The cabin sat tucked in amongst a swath of trees that shielded it from the main road. Its interior was decorated with thought, with care, with love. It welcomed you in and instantly, you felt right at home.  Rounding out the space was a small yard, complete with a hammock and fire pit.

It seemed that the weekend might be saved after all, until you glanced into Bucky’s bag.

As he was unpacking his toiletries and getting his clothes sorted, the shiny silver corner of his laptop caught your eye. It was tucked under a pair of sweatpants, but you knew in your bones that it was his computer. Upon further inspection, you discovered a hotspot hiding amongst his clothes, as well. 

So much for the ‘uninterrupted weekend’ he’d sold you.

But instead of assuming the worst, instead of spiraling, you reasoned with yourself. He’d packed his bag prior to your heart to heart. Prior to your admission of being miserable. Prior to his promise to scale back his hours. It was perfectly logical to think that he’d simply forgotten to remove his computer and his hotspot from his bag. That he had no intention of using them this weekend. That he only packed them in case of an emergency.

And maybe- just maybe- he didn’t intend to work during your getaway. 

But work he did, anyway.

Bucky found you lounging in the hammock, protected from the sun by the shadow of a large, old tree. 

“Where have you been?” you asked, looking up from your book. “You said you were right behind me.”

He had said it would only take a few minutes for him to “send one last email” before he could “completely unplug.” But that was forty-five minutes ago.

“I know, I’m sorry. One email turned into a phone call, and that turned into a zoom,” he said, exasperated. “But I’m here now. Does that hammock have room enough for two?”

Some childish and petty part of you wanted to call him on his shit. It wanted to throw the words “uninterrupted weekend” back at him and watch as he ate them.

But he looked so tired. Everything about him screamed ‘rundown’. This was the longest you’d ever seen his stubble. His hair was longer, too- longer than he liked it. There was a defeated air about the slope of his shoulders. And every breath seemed more like a sigh. He didn’t get to go out for long runs in the park anymore; this was probably the most time he’d spent in the sun in weeks. 

The loving, devoted, compassionate part of you won out against your immature instinct, and you allowed him to share your hammock. He climbed in with a warm smile stretched across his face and tucked his body into your side. It was the perfect way to spend an afternoon- save for his near-constant texting. But you figured that a preoccupied Bucky was better than no Bucky at all.

He never even cracked the book he brought along for the trip. He, instead, allowed it to rest at his side while he responded to Tara’s messages. Every once and a while, you caught a glimpse of his screen, and everything appeared to be on the up and up. There were no emojis. No flirtations. No double entendres. Just business. 

And though you wished he’d knock it off and be present with you, you let it to slide. He was just trying to make everyone happy. Trying to stretch himself thinner than thin. And he was clearly miserable, himself; you thought it best not to add insult to injury.

And the weekend was still lovely regardless. It was the most time you’d spent together since he started with Tara’s organization, and you swore you could feel yourself coming back to life. The two of you ate and danced and made s’mores and fell asleep under the stars. And even though it was a truncated version of the trip you’d hoped for, you wouldn’t have traded it for anything. 

Things were looking up. 

Another respite from Bucky’s hellish schedule came a few weeks after your cabin jaunt. Just as the sense of renewal granted by the getaway started to wear off, Bucky came home from work one Friday night with a nearly cartoonish grin on his face. 

He bounded through the front door and threw himself at you, sweeping you into his arms. It was unexpected, almost strange; he never came home with his energy intact like this. But you welcomed it; you missed seeing him this way. 

“I have good news,” he said. “Do you wanna guess what it is?”

“Hmm…” you thought it over for a moment, “Are you-”

He didn’t allow you to properly formulate a guess; he was far too excited. 

“I’ll give you a hint: guess who has the whole weekend off?” he asked, spinning you around as though on a dance floor.

Your jaw dropped. “Really?”

“Really.” 

It was like music to your ears. Like your birthday and New Year’s Eve and Valentine’s Day rolled into one. You could’ve sworn that confetti fell from the ceiling. That fireworks exploded outside your window. It wasn’t just good news. It was great news. The best news you’d ever received. 

“We’ve hit a wall with this lead we’re working on,” he told you. “There’s some information we need in order to move forward, but not even our access team has been able to get to it. It’s not in any of the systems they’ve looked through.”

You gave him a strange look, “What’s an access team?”

He rolled his eyes and laughed a little, “They’re hackers. But they told me to stop calling them ‘hackers’ cause apparently that sounds ‘cheesy’.”

You shrugged, “‘Hackers’ kinda does make it sound like you’re in a bad spy movie.”

“They hack! It’s the name that makes the most sense!” he laughed. “Anyway, they think it’s probably being stored on a drive somewhere off-network, that way no one can hac- I mean, access it. And our entire strategy hinges on that information. So, there’s not much we can do right now.”

It struck you that maybe you were supposed to be sensitive to this plight. To the frustrations of his job. Maybe deep down, he was disappointed that Hydra’s fall would have to be delayed. But he didn’t seem all that bummed about it. If anything, he seemed unburdened. 

“They called things off for the weekend so everyone can recharge,” he told you. “I think they’re hoping that a free weekend will help people come back with fresh eyes and clear minds.”

“Yeah, it’s almost like allowing your employees to rest helps them be better problem solvers,” you quipped.

“Who could’ve seen that coming?” he laughed. The sound hit you deep in your chest; you realized just how much you missed that laugh. It vibrated against his lips as he pressed them to yours.

The possibilities of how the two of you might spend this rare, free weekend- farmer’s markets, museums, drinking and dancing- evaporated from your mind as he kissed you. And suddenly, they were replaced by hungrier, more salacious options.

But for the time being, you quieted them. This was Bucky’s weekend, his free time.

He never had the time to do what he wanted to do anymore. Ever since he started this job, his time no longer belonged to him. This job owned every day, every minute; he was lucky enough to get a few hours on loan so he could sleep.

“Well, whatever you wanna do this weekend, I’m in,” you told him when you finally parted. “You get to pick since you never have free time anymore.”

He fell silent for a long moment, thinking. 

“Anything you want!” you promised him. “We can go on a bike ride or roam around in that fancy bookstore in SoHo or-”

“If it’s alright, I’d rather not.”

“You’d rather not what, Buck?”

He sighed, “Would you mind if we didn’t do… anything? I don’t want you to be bored all weekend, but I just…” 

He let out a long sigh and looked around the room. As his gaze swept through the space, you watched him take in the subtle changes here and there: a new throw pillow on the couch, a different set of coasters on the coffee table, a new lamp to replace the one he’d accidentally broken. 

This was the apartment you’d hunted for together. The apartment he’d called his “safest place”. His “favorite place”. And yet, he’d barely spent any time within its walls in recent days. He was more like a guest here. A stranger. A foreign transplant.

His eyes filled with the same desperate longing you’d seen before the cabin trip. “I just want to be home, you know? But if you want to go and-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “If you want to stay home all weekend, we’ll stay home.”

He eyed you warily, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you promised. “I’ll never say no to weekend at home with you.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face. 

You weren’t quite sure if he was excited to spend the weekend at home with you, or if he was simply thrilled to lounge on the couch for a few days. Either way, you were happy to have him all to yourself. Happy to keep him out of the clutches of others for a few days. 

“Maybe we could get some snacks and have a movie marathon? There are a ton of classics I’ve never seen,” he said. “Jaws, Jurassic Park, Alien. What do you think?”

You quirked a brow at him, “I think it’s criminal that you’ve never seen Jurassic Park.”

“I know,” he groaned. “That’s why I’m trying to rectify it! What do you think?”

You, of course, agreed to his proposal. The two of you made a list of movies and a list of snacks, and you couldn’t resist the excitement building in your chest. This weekend was going to be the mulligan. The do-over. After your cabin weekend was cut short, after it was tarnished by Bucky’s constant correspondence with Tara, the two of you needed a second chance at an uninterrupted weekend. And the opportunity had finally arrived.

The next day, Bucky settled in next to you on the couch. He draped a blanket over your lap, pulled you securely into his side, and pressed play on Jaws. Jurassic Park followed shortly after, and he raved about it as the two of you made and ate lunch. A slew of movies spanning multiple genres left Bucky in awe. It was a strange experience, watching Alien after West Side Story, but you didn’t care. Bucky was home, and that’s all that mattered.

And much to your surprise, he hadn’t mentioned Tara once. Hadn’t texted her. Hadn’t paused the movie to read one of her emails. And for the first time in a long time, things inside your apartment felt less crowded. 

But a nagging thought needled at you. What if he was simply being more covert about corresponding with Tara now? What if he had gotten better at covering things up?

No. You wouldn’t allow yourself to think that way anymore. 

With a deep breath, you nestled yourself deeper into Bucky’s embrace and vowed to simply enjoy the weekend. You didn’t know when- or if- you’d get another one like this any time soon. And you damn sure weren’t going to waste it by concocting wild speculations.

Once the sun finally set behind the skyscrapers, Bucky pressed play on your last movie of the night: When Harry Met Sally. But just as Harry and Sally bumped into each other in a bookstore, there was a knock at your front door. 

Bucky looked at you. You looked at him. 

“Were you expecting someone?” he asked.

You shook your head.  

“Hmm,” Bucky rose from the couch, “Maybe it’s a neighbor.”

He strode toward the front door and pressed his face against its surface, peering through the peephole. You could’ve sworn you heard a quiet gasp fill his lungs.

“Who is it, Buck?”

He didn’t answer. He removed the chain on the door with a slow intensity. Inched the deadbolt open at a glacial pace. His movements were painstaking, deliberate. Almost sluggish. Whoever it was, Bucky didn’t seem too pleased to see them.

When he finally turned the knob, he pulled the door open only a few inches. A sliver, really. He leaned his head out into the hall and spoke quietly with the mystery visitor. 

It was odd, his behavior. He had no reason to be secretive or cagey when speaking to a neighbor. He had no reason to hide his conversation from you. To shield you from this surprise guest. 

As quietly as you could, you rose from the couch a crept closer to the door, hoping to catch a word or two.

“Yeah, and I thought I told you never to come to my apartment,” Bucky said, his words hurried. 

Something about it made your stomach turn. Why would he feel the need to give someone such a specific stipulation, unless he had something to hide?

And then a woman’s voice filled the air. 

Not any woman’s voice.

Tara’s.

“I know, but I need you, Buck.”

A flash of heat scorched your insides. And before you knew what was happening, you’d wrenched the door all the way open. 

Tara stood before you in a floor length maroon gown dripping with intricate beading. She towered over you, her perfect body elongated by elegant heels. Her auburn hair was twisted and tucked into a fabulous updo. Diamonds dangled from her ears and encircled her slender neck. And deep red lipstick accentuated her perfect pout. 

You thought it possible that she’d stepped out of a magazine or off of a runway. 

And suddenly, you wondered what the fuck Bucky was doing with you. What he saw in you. How he could be with you when she existed.

A violent pain tore through your abdomen, nearly stealing your breath. It seemed that something sharp and jagged was ripping through your insides, shredding your guts into confetti. But you forced yourself to remain composed. To appear unbothered. 

Bucky shifted his gaze to you and then back to Tara. He looked nervous, as though you’d caught him red-handed. 

“Sweetheart, this is Tara,” he gestured to the devastatingly beautiful supermodel standing in the hall. “Tara, this is-”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said in a rush, her attention barely drifting from Bucky’s face. “But we really don’t have time for pleasantries right now, Buck. This is an emergency.”

“I don’t think I can tonight,” Bucky told her. “I have plans, we’re watching-”

“I know how to get the drive, I know where it is.” Tara shrugged, “Okay, I’m pretty sure I know where it is.”

Bucky didn’t answer, he simply quirked a brow at her, allowing her to continue.

“There’s a huge gala tonight at Thomas Weller’s house,” she said.

Bucky perked up.

“Weller’s house…” he said, thinking it over. “He lives in the-”

“The prohibition era mansion with the hidden room that acted as a speakeasy. Yeah,” Tara nodded, her eyes a bit wild. She seemed truly exhilarated by the circumstances. “He’s the only one Hydra would trust to keep the drive secure, and tonight’s the only chance for us to find it,” she said. “He has to be hiding it in that secret room- I feel it.”

 “But we can’t be sure…”

“Barnes, I’m sure.”

Bucky thought on it for a long, quiet moment. “Are you willing to stake Magdalini’s on it?”

Tara’s face lit up as her head fell back in a laugh. A loose auburn curl bounced at the nape of her neck. Her perfectly polished nails brushed against her chest as she caught her breath. You were certain she was the princess from every fairytale you’d read as a child.

“Yes!” she finally said when she composed herself. “I am willing to bet you a doz- TWO dozen cookies from Magdalini’s.”

Bucky took this very seriously. A knowing look eclipsed his face, and he granted Tara an understanding nod. You, on the other hand, were left in the cold. You weren’t sure what had just happened between them, but they knew something you didn’t. They shared something you were not a part of. Whether these cookies were an inside joke or some kind of metric, you weren’t sure. But they were important. 

You waited for an explanation, for one of them to afford you an invite to the joke. But no such offer came. 

“Do you still have your tux from the SWORD anniversary party? The one where we knocked over the ice sculpture?” Tara asked.

A small smile flickered across Bucky’s face. He cut his glance toward you, dropped his smile, and nodded at Tara.

“Then get dressed,” she told him. “The party starts in twenty minutes and it’s basically across town.”

“Okay, yeah, just-” Bucky began to make a sweeping gesture of invitation but cut it short when his eyes met yours. “Um, I’ll be out in a minute,” he told her, before shutting the door and leaving her in the hall.

With the door shut, the two of you shared a long, loaded look. 

“I’m sorry…” he finally said. “I know we were gonna watch movies and-”

“It’s fine, Bu-” you stopped yourself, not wanting to use the same nickname as Tara. “Babe.”

He sighed, “I keep disappointing you.”

You shrugged, “It is what it is. This is part of your job.”

You meant it. You knew he wasn’t doing this on purpose. Knew he wasn’t trying to hurt you. It wasn’t fair to blame him. It wasn’t even fair to blame Tara, though you wanted to. She, too, was just doing her job. Just trying to stop Hydra. And who were you to stop those efforts? 

But you couldn’t help the frustration that ground your teeth together. The disappointment. The irritation. It all pooled together into a sinister, inky cocktail that coated your insides. It seemed that, at every turn, Bucky chose Tara. You knew it was childish to feel that way. Knew it was petty and stupid and immature. But you couldn’t stop it. 

And Tara’s piercing beauty didn’t help. Her perfect cheekbones and flawless skin made you want to double over. Made you question if you were even the same species.

Bucky dressed in his tuxedo quietly, eyeing you every now and again. You sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to assist with his tie, if need be. Another heavy, endless silence wedged itself between the two of you. The kind of silence that precedes disaster. 

“So, what’s the deal with Magda… Madgolee-”

“Magdalini’s?” 

“Yeah.”

 “It’s this bakery out in New Hampshire,” he told you. “Tara and I were in Concord doing recon for this job, and we kind of randomly stumbled upon the place.”

You waited for something more, but nothing came. 

“But what do cookies have to do with you going to this party?” you asked.

“Well, when Tara and I were togeth- when we worked together,” he overcorrected. “If one of us had a feeling about something but no proof, we’d bet the other a dozen cookies from Magdalini’s.” He gave a quiet laugh, “Since it’s all the way in New Hampshire and always sells out before noon, it’s a pain in the ass to get those damn cookies. You have to trek out to Concord early in the morning and wait in a long line and it’s- it’s a whole thing.” He shrugged, “So her telling me that she’d bet two dozen of those cookies on this party tonight means she’s sure. Cause if she’s not, she’s gotta drag her ass all the way out there.”

Bucky smiled as he buttoned his shirt, clearly awash in the memories of that bakery. And the woman he shared it with.  And suddenly, you hated those damn cookies. 

You hated the inside jokes and shared memories Bucky had with Tara. Hated that he was leaving you. Again. To be with her. Again. Hated that you were so goddamn jealous. 

“Just um… let me know if you need help with your tie,” you muttered before fleeing the scene.

You found solace in the quiet, empty living room, and leaned against the back of the couch. Over and over again, you forced yourself to take deep, calming breaths. This wasn’t Bucky’s fault, you told yourself. He had a job to do; and as unfortunate as it was, this was part of it. When the dust cleared, things would go back to normal. Tara would disappear once again and your relationship with Bucky would be returned to its former glory. That was the silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel. Your heartrate slowed, your frustration evaporated, and you discovered a newfound hope.

Until there was another soft knock at the door.

Just as you turned to face the sound, the door opened just a sliver. 

“Hi,” Tara leaned her head in, an apologetic smile on her beautiful face. “Do you mind if I wait inside? Your neighbors are staring,” she chuckled.

Of course, your neighbors were staring; a runway model was loitering in their hallway.

And though you didn’t want her in the space you shared with Bucky, what choice did you have?

You gestured for her to enter,  “Sure.”

She stood just inside the door, her elegant ensemble completely out of place in your home. She tucked her designer clutch under her arm and gave your apartment a once over. 

“It’s so cozy in here,” she said without a drop of condescension. “I love that painting. Where did you get it?” She gestured to the framed canvas hanging on the opposite wall.

“Oh that’s- I painted it,” you told her, suddenly sheepish.

“You did? Wow. It’s beautiful. You’re really talented.”

“Thanks,” you forced a smile. 

Not only was she smart and beautiful and skilled- she was nice, too?

“You um, you look really nice,” you told her. “I like your dress.”

It was painfully awkward. You were certain Tara could feel the envy radiating from your every pore. But you had to make an effort. Had to make nice. She was Bucky’s coworker; and regardless of the punishing schedule she’d set for him, she hadn’t technically done anything wrong. That you knew of. 

But the way she lit up when Bucky walked out in his tux made you wonder. 

Maybe it was unfair, you thought, to condemn her for her reaction- anyone with sight would react the exact same way. Bucky was always attractive but seeing him all dressed up made your knees weak. The custom-fitted tux hugged him in all the right places and accentuated his physique. It took every ounce of your strength not to pounce on him right then and there. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, looking down at his ensemble. “I had a little trouble with the tie.”

“I can help with-”                                              “Oh, here, let me-”

Both you and Tara took a step in his direction, arms outstretched, prepared to assist him. Simultaneously, you snapped your head in the other’s direction and locked eyes. Tara flashed you a smile that you categorized as ‘almost apologetic’ and with a sweeping gesture, conceded. 

The tension in the room settled atop the three of you, forcing everyone’s eyes down.

After a deep breath and a shake of your head, you took your rightful place in front of Bucky. With nimble fingers, you adjusted the fabric of his tie until it was perfect. He shot you a look, silently apologizing for the incident. 

You wanted to brush the whole thing off. To pretend that it didn’t bother you. But it did. 

Sure, Tara was nice. But why would she feel entitled to get so up close and personal with Bucky this way? And why would she feel comfortable doing so in front of you? In your home? She was his ex, his coworker. It made no sense for her to be the one to fix his tie, especially when you were right there. Of course, it was just a bow tie; Tara hadn’t volunteered to French kiss him or anything of the sort. But the way she jumped at the chance to enter his personal bubble rubbed you the wrong way.

Maybe, you feared, Bucky allowed her to get close to him at work. Maybe the two of them spent time cozied up in her office when they were supposed to be attending meetings. Maybe she’d gotten so used to being intimate with him that this kind of task had become second nature to her. And maybe she’d been so overwhelmed by the sight of her lover in his tuxedo that she’d forgotten she had an audience. 

Maybe he wasn’t staying at work all night, laboring over this job until the early morning hours. Maybe he was sleeping at her apartment, in her bed.

The possibility trapped your lungs in a vice, cutting off your air supply. Bile rose in the back of your throat; it took everything in you to force it down. By some miracle, you remained composed, and adjusted Bucky’s tie.

“There,” you said , “All done.”

Just as Bucky tried to express his gratitude, he stumbled to the side. Tara had yanked him by the hand and began hauling him toward the door. Bucky stumbled behind her for a few paces before locking eyes with you. He slipped his hand from her grasp and doubled back to place a kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” he said. “I-”

“I won’t have him home too late!” Tara called from the door with a laugh. “Thanks for sharing him with me!” 

Before you had the chance to blink, Bucky and Tara disappeared out the door and down the hall.

‘Sharing’ him? Another vicious bout of pain ripped through you. And without an audience, you were free so succumb. You doubled over, allowing the agony to take hold of you. The sharp, searing pain sliced its way from your gut to your throat, flaying you wide open. Only when it quieted to an angry throb were you able to stand upright and hobble to the couch.

After an hour or so, you forced yourself to stop thinking about them. About Bucky and Tara together. About the things that might be transpiring on the other side of town. It wasn’t healthy, wasn’t productive. The pain in your abdomen had finally dulled and you knew that if you continued to ruminate, it would return with a vengeance. 

And so, you wiped your tears and dragged your body off the couch. You took a long shower, did your skincare, and slipped into your most comfortable pajamas. All you had to do was delude yourself into believing that Bucky was out with Sam or working with Yelena. It was the perfect fix, albeit temporary.

After your shower you climbed into bed and dove into your favorite silly sitcom. The canned laughter and over the top storylines helped distract you, helped lift your shattered spirits. With one tap of your remote you skipped half a season- expertly avoiding a storyline about the main character cheating on his girlfriend- and resumed your rewatch in a happier spot.

Still, you picked and bit at what was left of your nails. Eyed the clock every few minutes. Checked your phone more than you would’ve liked. You couldn’t help it.

Just before eleven o’clock, you heard the front door open. 

“Buck?” you called, hoping it was only him.

“Yeah…” he said. He sounded different. “It’s me.”

His keys clinked against the wall as he hung them on the hook by the door, and you knew he’d be in the bedroom soon. Knew he’d have his tail between his legs. Knew you were in for a long night of discussions and apologies. You turned off the tv and waited, expecting his slumped shoulders to lean against the doorframe any second.

But he never appeared. 

Something- instinct, intuition- nudged you out of bed.

Something was wrong. 

You cautiously made your way out of the bedroom and into the living room as the pit in your stomach doubled- tripled- in size. 

You found Bucky still standing by the front door, motionless. His eyes were downcast; his hands were shoved into his pockets. The bowtie you’d so meticulously fixed for him was draped loosely around his neck. The first few buttons of his shirt were open.

“Hey…” you called. 

He barely looked up, and only for a split second. “Hi.”

The distance between you seemed much vaster than it was. He seemed to be miles away, adrift somewhere far and unfamiliar. No one moved, no one spoke. The tension in the air grew heavier by the second, nearly crushing you.

And after a while, you couldn’t take the strained silence.

“Um, how’d it go?” you asked. “Is everything okay?” 

Finally, Bucky dragged his gaze from the floor. The misery in his eyes sent a pang of anxiety ripping through your chest.

“Something h-” he gave a small shake of his head, cleared his throat. “Something happened. Between me and Tara.”

His words knocked you off balance. Your nails dug into the couch as you fought to remain upright. The unforgiving pain in your abdomen exploded once again. And a tidal wave of nausea swallowed you whole.

“It was part of our cover, it wasn’t- there wasn’t anything romantic about it,” he swore. The words tumbled out of his mouth in a panicked rush. “We weren’t supposed to be in Weller’s office- a security guard was coming and if they knew we’d taken the drive, Weller would’ve had us killed. So, Tara k-” he choked on the word. “She kissed me. She made it look like we were a couple who’d gotten, I don’t know, carried away or something. Like we were just looking for a private room to…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. 

“But we didn’t- we didn’t do that!” he said, almost frantic. “It was just the kissing, nothing else. I swear.”

Finaly, he unrooted his feet and made his way toward you; he stopped just a foot from where you stood.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so- I didn’t know that was gonna happen,” he said. “I had no idea. She just did it without telling me. I didn’t want to- I didn’t want her to do that.”

His words settled into your body, creating fractures and fissures as they went. 

A storm of sympathy rained down on you as you stared at him. He was in utter agony, that was no secret. His hands shook, his face was flushed, his eyes brimmed with tears. He hadn’t wanted that kiss. Hadn’t known about it or expected it. And he was suffering. The love of your life was suffering. 

But the ghost of relationships past returned, screaming at you over and over. Gloating.

“I told you so!”

“I told you so!”

“I told you so!”

This was exactly what you’d feared. What you’d dreaded. And regardless of the circumstances, your old wounds were ripped open once again. The flashbacks hit you like a truck; the familiar words tore you to pieces. There was no surviving this; no making it out alive. It seemed that you would bleed out, that you’d be lifeless and cold in a matter of moments. 

But the first tear dripped down Bucky’s face, and brought you back to reality.

It took all your might, all your strength, but you forced your impending collapse and demise to wait. Everythingwould have to wait. 

“I’m s- I’m sorry that happened to you,” you said.

His brow furrowed, “What?”

You breathed through the throbbing, unrelenting ache in your chest, and repeated yourself. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Buck,” you said, matter-of-factly. “She shouldn’t have ki- she shouldn’t have done that. You didn’t want it. Didn’t consent to it. It’s not okay.”

He stared at you, wide eyed. Another tear spilled onto his cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice; he was far too shocked.

“Sweetheart, I don’t care about that- I’m fine,” he shrugged. “I’m worried about you. About hurting you.” He dug his teeth into the inside of his cheek, “About what this might- what it might do to us.”

The words came out quieter, weaker than you’d hoped. “Wasn’t your fault.” 

“Baby-”

“I’m sorry, can you-” you cleared your throat, “Can you just give me one second?” You gave him a strained smile and turned slowly back to the bedroom. Bucky faltered awkwardly in the living room as you fled.

You turned too sharply around the corner into your bedroom, knocking the point of your shoulder into the wall. But you barely noticed; it didn’t hurt. It should’ve; you’d run into this corner enough times to know that it should kill. But it didn’t. You barely even noticed it. Some tiny portion of your brain registered the hit and catalogued it for the future, for when you’d discover the bruise and wonder about its origin.

On unsteady feet, you flew into the en suite bathroom and shut the door behind you. You didn’t mean to slam it, but the panic creeping into your bones stole your sense of decorum. It turned you into a jittery, unstable version of yourself. The sound of the door banging into its frame made you jump. 

With the lock twisted into place, you leaned against the nearest wall and promptly fell apart.

The was the breakdown of the century, the monster you’d been fighting off with sword and shield. But fighting was useless. It came at you like a natural disaster. Unstoppable. Uncontrollable. Life-threatening. It was your own personal category 5 hurricane. Your uncontained wildfire. Your San Andreas fault.

The tears soaked your shirt in mere moments. Your breathing was ragged, labored. A burning sensation clawed at your throat, your chest, as your lungs begged for oxygen. The weakness in your knees forced you to slide down the wall, searching for the stability of the floor. 

But even as you fell to pieces, you forced yourself to stay quiet. To do your damnedest to keep Bucky from hearing. Because no matter what happened at that party, he was still the great love of your life. And you didn’t want to upset him. 

But it was too late. 

“Baby…” Bucky called from the bedroom, his voice jagged with worry. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Please, can we talk?”

The handle of the bathroom door jiggled as he tried it, but found it locked. He sighed. 

His metal knuckles knocked gently against the wood, “Sweetheart, please… open the door.”

You didn’t answer.

“Baby, I’m-” he choked on the panic. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing- there’s nothing going on with me and T-” he didn’t say her name. “I swear to god, I swear on my life. I swear on Steve’s. It’s not like that.”

The logical part of your brain knew he was telling the truth. Nothing about James Buchanan Barnes said ‘cheater’. He was a loyal, decent person who would rather die than hurt you. Never over the course of your relationship had you ever caught him so much as looking at another woman. 

But the tortured, traumatized part of your brain was too busy falling down a rabbit hole of flashbacks to listen to reason. All at once, it grew to be too much.

Once again, bile crawled its way up the back of your throat. And though you tried to resist, you didn’t have any fight left in you. Your mouth flooded with saliva, and you threw yourself to the floor in front of the toilet. Pain rocketed through your knees as your crashed against the cold tile.

And finally, after months of staving off the nausea, you let it win. You allowed yourself to be sick. To be weak.

All of the fear and worry and pain exited your body in an almost violent fashion. It had been building up for so long, slowly taking over every cell. And now, it had forced you to the ground. Forced you to your knees. Forced you to lean over the toilet and retch, over and over again.

“Sweetheart?” Bucky called, distressed. There was a heightened sense of alarm in his voice. A pleading desperation. “Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

Answering wasn’t an option, as you were otherwise occupied. 

“I’m gonna get you some water, okay? But I’ll be right back.”

‘See?’ you thought, ‘He does care.’

The thought only brought on another wave of sickness.

The force with which your body lurched forward would most likely leave you sore the next day, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything other than bringing air into your lungs. 

Bucky’s voice entered your consciousness every minute or so as he checked on you; he sounded like he might be sick himself. But you weren’t able to ask.

Finally, it was over. The contents of your stomach were long gone, and you’d expelled only bile for the past few minutes. But after a spell of dry heaving, the forceful retching came to an end. You allowed yourself to slump against the nearest wall with relief. A sharp burn ripped through your throat and nose. Your hands shook. Tears clung to your cheeks and lashes. But it was over.

Your head fell into your hands, and you forced yourself to take a few deep, even breaths, though they did little to calm you. Images of Bucky and Tara still pummeled you from every angle. You wondered if you’d find her red lipstick smudged up and down his neck. 

In all honesty, you didn’t mean to say it out loud. You didn’t mean for Bucky to hear you. But you’d lost control of yourself long ago, and the words slipped out before you had the chance to stop them. 

“I can’t do this again.” 

The fire scorching down your throat banished the haunting visions of Bucky and his lost love and dragged you back to reality.

No part of you wanted to face him after the dramatic show you’d put on. After he’d kissed another woman. After everything that could’ve gone wrong did. The anticipation conjured a dark, swirling pit to open in your stomach. Would he end things tonight, after witnessing your instability? Or would he wait till the morning? Would he immediately fly into Tara’s arms? Or would he wait a few days out of respect? 

The nausea returned, but you didn’t have anything left to expel. You dragged a few greedy breaths into your lungs and forced yourself to face the facts: the longer you waited- the longer you hid- the worse it would be. And so, you pulled yourself up off the floor and rinsed your mouth in the bathroom sink.

Bucky hovered closely to the bathroom door. He was so close, in fact, that he left you almost no room to exit. 

“Are you doing alright, sweetheart?” His eyes were red; his cheeks were stained with tear tracks. “I brought you a glass of water if you’re interested.” 

He reached for you tentatively, his hand shaking ever so slightly. 

There was a time when you never would’ve avoided his touch. Never would’ve imagined pulling away from his hand. But you did. Maybe you didn’t mean to, maybe it was a reflex. But you did it. You yanked your body out of his path and tucked your arms into your chest, as though protecting yourself from some great danger. 

More than anything, you wanted to flee the room, the apartment- maybe the state. But you knew there was no point in running. Instead, you took a few long strides across the room, putting some distance between you and Bucky. It felt safer here. More comfortable.

The look on Bucky’s face nearly made you sick again.  

“Sorry,” you said, flames scorching down your throat. “I-”

“No, hey- it’s okay, I get it.” He forced the saddest smile you’d ever seen. “Um, I’ll just- I’ll put this on your nightstand.” He set the glass of water down behind him and turned back to you with anguish carved into his face. 

“Baby…” he sighed. “I’m so-”

“You don’t have to apologize again,” you told him . “It’s-” 

A wave of dizziness crested over you, sending the world around you into chaos. Black, shiny spots shimmered on the edges of your vision. Desperately, you grabbed onto the corner of the nearby armchair in an attempt to steady yourself. Your nails dug into the upholstery as you breathed through your tremulous grip on the world.

Bucky took a small, cautious step in your direction. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m-” You listed to the side once again. “I’m gonna pass out.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, “What?”

And then you were falling. Falling forward. Black clouds obscured your vision, your ears started ringing. A gust of air fanned your face as you quickly folded toward the floor. A pair of strong arms locked around you suddenly. One encircled your waist; the other, your chest. And then you were out.

Everything was still black and cloudy; the sounds came back first.

The words were fuzzy at first, lacking any real, definable structure. But you could tell it was Bucky saying them. Could tell by his tone, his gentle voice, that he was reassuring you. The garbled, shapeless words grew slowly clearer until you finally made them out. 

“I got you,” he said. “You’re okay, baby. I got you.”

A cool sensation glided across your cheek; it sent goosebumps crawling over your skin. It felt so familiar. Why did it feel so familiar? The cold, metal drifted across your skin again, and you recognized Bucky’s vibranium hand. 

“You’re alright, I’m here,” he told you. “I’m right here.”

Finally, you rediscovered the ability to open your eyes. It was harder than you remembered, more taxing. But you did it. And Bucky’s face was the first thing you saw- his beautiful, anxious face. He sat next to you on the bed, leaning over you with unparalleled worry. 

“Hey,” his brow creased with concern. “How are you feeling?”

It took a moment for you to formulate the words, but eventually, you managed an “I’m fine.”

And technically speaking, you were. You weren’t dizzy or nauseous anymore. You hadn’t been injured when you blacked out- Bucky didn’t allow that to happen. So, physically speaking, ‘fine’ was accurate. 

But the embarrassment burned your face; you were certain that your skin must be scorching to the touch. It was all just so dramatic. So over the top. The sobbing, the vomiting, the fainting… It was like something out of a soap opera. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. His voice was still thin, still brittle with concern. 

You gave a cautious nod, “Yeah. I swear.”

He relaxed the tiniest amount. But if you knew anything about him, you knew he’d remain hypervigilant for the rest of the night, just in case. Hell, he’d probably remain hypervigilant for at least a week, ready to save you if need be.

“Thanks for catching me, Buck.” 

“Yeah- of course,” a small smile crept across his face. “Always, baby.” 

He ghosted his thumb over your cheek again, “Is this- has this ever happened before?”  he asked, “Or is it something new?” 

He worried more than anyone you’d ever known. And always about you. You kicked yourself for thinking he would ever stray. For thinking that he didn’t care.

“It hasn’t happened in a long time, but I used to pass out a lot when I was younger. Whenever I was really-” You cut your sentence off at the knees. 

He eyed you, “Whenever you were really what?”

There was no sense in saying it. Bucky already felt guilty enough, adding to his shame wasn’t going to help. 

“When you were what?” he asked again, more insistent this time. Anxiety practically dripped from his words. 

You sighed. “Whenever I was really upset. Or extremely stressed.”

Bucky matched your sigh with one of his own. His was heavier, weighed down by his responsibility for your episode. He gently stroked your face once more, but pulled away before his thumb could sweep the entire length of your cheek bone. He tucked his hands safety at his sides.

“Sorry,” he said. It was almost imperceptible.

“No, I’m-” you began to try and sit upright.

“Okay, hey, let’s just take it slow, alright? I don’t think you should get up yet.”

But you were determined to sit up. If you continued to lie there, Bucky would continue to dote on you. To wring his hands. And it would only increase the evening’s embarrassing dramatics. 

Much to Bucky’s dismay, you didn’t listen to his cautionary words. You pushed yourself up to a seated position without difficulty and rested your back against the headboard. 

In a flash, Bucky was on his feet. He stood right against the bed, his hands anxiously hovering over you, poised to save you at a moment’s notice. If you began listing toward the edge of the bed, he’d catch you. Again.

But no such incident occurred. You were perfectly steady, perfectly safe. You accepted the glass of water he offered you for the second time and drained it in a matter of seconds. 

“Do you want some more?” he asked, already heading for the kitchen, “I’ll go get-”

“No, no, I’m okay,” you said. “I want you to stay here- I wanna talk to you.”

Bucky halted in the doorway, frozen. Dread bloomed in his eyes. He lost his grip on the glass in his hand and barely reacted quickly enough to stop it from shattering. 

“Oh. Okay. Yeah…” he said; his words has a wounded quality about them. 

He took a few slow steps toward the bed but stayed at a cautious distance. His shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened. He sucked in a sharp breath and coiled his metal hand into a tight fist. He seemed to be waiting for something, expecting something. 

But after waiting only a few short moments, he spoke again.

“You don’t- you don’t actually have to say it, if that’s okay. I don’t think I could handle hearing the words,” a broken smile flashed across his face for a split second. “But I understand. I won’t beg you reconsider- I get it. And I’m sorry, for what it’s worth- if it’s worth anything.”

“What?”

He placed the empty glass on your nightstand and headed for the closet. 

“I’m just gonna grab a few things. Some clothes and stuff. And then I’ll-” he sighed, “And then I’ll get out of your hair.”

You shook your head, “What are you talking about, Buck? I just said I wanted us to talk-”

“I know, sweetheart.” Something in his words sounded like begging. Like pleading for mercy. “And I know I need to let you say your piece, but I don’t know if I can h-handle it. At least not right now. And I know that’s selfish of me. And I’m sorry. But I’m-”

He was practically falling apart at the seams. Parts of him seemed to be peeling away, stripping him down to his most raw, vulnerable self. His hands shook. His voice wavered. His breathing came in shallow, erratic bursts. His body was determined to self-destruct before you could deliver the final, deadly blow. 

You jumped out of bed on unsteady feet, your arms outstretched toward him. If you could reach his side and anchor him to the earth quickly enough, maybe you could stave off the panic attack that loomed on his horizon. 

He, of course, protested. He tried to say something, something cautioning you against getting up in such a hurry. Against running across the room. But his voice barely carried any weight. 

“Hey, it’s okay. We’re okay.” Your hands cradled his face, “Breathe, baby. I don’t want you to leave. I want you here.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. His hands found your waist. And he dragged deep, even breaths into his lungs. He was so focused, so concentrated on staying above water that you weren’t sure he heard your whispered reassurances. But you voiced them anyway. Just in case he could hear you. In case your words helped him somehow.

 It was a long time before he came back to you. But you waited patiently for him. As you always did. 

When he finally opened his eyes, he looked you over slowly, drinking you in as though seeing you for the first time. The panic had dissipated from his expression, leaving tentative relief in its wake. It seemed that he was just grateful you were still there. Grateful that you hadn’t cut your losses and left him in the dust.  

Finally, he spoke. It was a genuine question. No levity. No humor. 

“You still love me?”

It crushed you.

“Of course- of course, I do, Buck.” Your hands slipped from his cheeks, down his chest, and wound around his back. He pulled you tighter, crushing you against his body. 

“Even after-”

“Yes,” you said against his chest. 

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. About tonight- about all of it.” He smoothed his hand up and down your back in an endless loop. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you. I know I hurt you. And it’s just so- I’m done working with her. I promise.”

This conversation felt a bit too familiar. Hadn’t this happened before? Hadn’t he already offered to quit? And hadn’t you stopped him? It seemed that you were trapped in a timeloop of sorts, forced to endlessly relive this version of reality. You were about to, once again, stop him from quitting, but he spoke before you had the chance. 

“I know what you’re gonna say, but I can’t do this anymore. I can feel-” he cleared his throat, forcing the emotion down. “I can feel you slipping away. And I can’t keep putting what we have at risk-”

“Buck,” you sighed, “I trust you. Tonight wasn’t your fault. And if you need to keep working with-”

“No.”

And that was it on the subject. He wasn’t open to any arguments or rebuttals. 

“I’m not losing you over this,” he insisted. “I know you want to be supportive, but nothing is worth losing you.”

It was quiet- inaudible, really.  But you mustered up a “thank you” that only someone with enhanced senses could’ve heard.

The relief brought tears to your eyes. Never before had anyone actually chosen you like this. Never before had anyone dropped everything for you because they wanted to. It was a new feeling for you, and you wondered how you’d survived this long without it.

But the relief only lasted so long. 

“What about Hydra? If they’re getting stronger, if they’re coming back, shouldn’t you-”

Bucky shook his head, “The team can take care of it without me. I’ve given them everything I can; they know everything I know. And they have the drive now.” He shrugged, “They don’t need me anymore.”

The two of you remained locked in a tight embrace. A comfortable silence settled around your bodies. And for the first time in months, the suspicious voice in your head was quiet. There were no doubts, no fears. Only comfort. Finally, comfort.

“I’m sorry I reacted like that.” You unearthed your face from Bucky’s chest and did your best to look up at him. “The crying and the vomiting and the passing out, it’s…” you rolled your eyes and let out a huff, “it was a lot.”

He tightened his grip around you. 

“No, don’t be sorry. I’ve been- I’ve kind of been torturing you for months. I put you in such a… I put you in a terrible position- the worst position. And I wasn’t even there for you. I kept hurting you and leaving you and- and then tonight with the…” he shook his head. “I can’t imagine what that felt like for you.”

“But I-” You struggled against his inhuman strength until he begrudgingly loosened his grip and allowed you enough room to really look at him- though he refused to let go completely. “I made this all about me,” you said, disgusted. “She-” you had to force yourself to say the words; they tasted like vinegar. “She kissed you against your will. I know what that’s like, it’s not fun. And I made it about me- it was selfish.”

“Sweetheart-”

“What happened tonight wasn’t your fault.” Your words were steadfast. Unflinching. “I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve been supportive. I should’ve-”

He took your face in his hands, “It’s all okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

“I’m sorry.” The words came out so defeated, so bathed in shame. “And I’m sorry I ever thought- I’m sorry I ever even considered that you might cheat. I know you’re not the type- of course, you’re not the type.”

“It’s okay. The late nights and the phone calls and all the-”

“It’s not just that,” you sighed, “I mean, that stuff was definitely part of it. But this whole thing just felt so…” 

For a split second, you allowed your eyes to close. The memories of betrayal and infidelity clawed at you, hissing and snarling as they tore open a pit in your stomach. You gave a slight shake of your head and opened your eyes, willing the past to dissipate. 

“It felt so familiar- too familiar. Like I’ve been here before.”

Bucky’s eyes widened a bit as he put the pieces together. He didn’t know much about your past relationships, just as you intended. He knew only that your exes hadn’t treated you all that well. You never went into great detail about how or why things ended, and Bucky didn’t pry. But a knowing look bloomed across his face as he allowed your words to settle over him. 

“You’ve been cheated on,” he said. 

You nodded, “Three times.”

A sharp gasp filled Bucky’s lungs; disgust twisted his features into a horrified mask. “Three times?”

Again, you nodded. 

“In a row. We were- I was really serious about each of them. We lived together. Talked about building a future together. And then… yeah.”

Bucky was too shocked to move, to blink. 

And suddenly, his disturbed stare was too much. His hands were too big and warm against your skin. His grasp was too tight. You freed yourself from his embrace and put some distance between his body and yours. The air around him was just so heavy, so hot. A similar heat scorched your cheeks as the embarrassment of your admission caught up to you; you dragged deep breaths of cool, crisp air into your lungs. 

Bucky stayed right where you left him; you weren’t sure if it was out of respect or utter shock.

“Is that…” He paused, probably wondering if he should even ask. You nodded, assuring him that it was okay. “That’s why I heard you say, ‘I can’t do this again’?”

A fresh wave of heat struck your cheeks, and you gave a reluctant nod. 

“Yeah.” You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t mean to be so dramatic about it.”

“You weren’t-”

“My instincts have just been screaming at me for months, you know? And I’ve been trying really hard not to listen to them and then tonight happened and- and it was like a chorus of thousands of people screaming ‘I told you so!’” You gave a shake of your head, “It was like all the old wounds were ripped open and I was bleeding out again and it was no one’s fault but mine for not learning from my past mistakes.”

Bucky nodded.

“But it’s- I mean, obviously, this situation is different, cause you didn’t actually do anything wrong. It was just, I don’t know, muscle memory.”

“Makes sense. You’ve been through a lot. Three times is…” He stared at you with heartbreak in his eyes. “Being cheated on isn’t your fault, sweetheart. You said ‘past mistakes’ like you’re to blame, but you’re not. You know that, right?”

Your shrug was cold, detached.

Bucky took a step toward you, “Baby, it’s-”

“I didn’t even tell you the best part,” you said. A cynical smile spread across your face, “Those guys all cheated on me with an ex.” 

Bucky’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Yeah,” you leaned against the nearest wall, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly, you felt too exposed. “I know how it sounds, but it’s true. It was- it’s why I was losing my mind the whole time you and Tara were working together. I’m not this possessive, jealous person. I just- I thought the pattern was starting again.”

Bucky made a beeline toward you. He cautiously extended a hand in your direction and rested it against your cheek with a feather-light touch. There was something in his eyes, something sad and compassionate and concerned. The most genuine, heartfelt pity. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms gently around you, “I’m so sorry. No one should have to go through that. And I never would’ve taken this job- I never would’ve worked with her. I had no idea.”

“It’s not your fault. I didn’t want you to know.”

Bucky released you from his arms and took a step back, meeting your eyeline. “Why not?”

For a few seconds, you allowed your head to dip. Your eyes closed. Your jaw tensed. Speaking to Bucky openly and honestly wasn’t hard. He was the last person to judge or mock; he always listened with and open mind and open heart. But some things were hard to admit, even to him. He deserved the truth, though. Didn’t he? He deserved to know why you felt this way. Why you’d grown nervous at the first mention of Tara all those months ago.

“Because it’s embarrassing. Because I feel like…” you raised your head but deftly avoided eye contact. “I feel like I have this weird, very specific curse, or something. Like there’s something about me that pushes people back into the arms of their ex. Like something about being with me is so…” disgust colored your voice, “so awful that- that it kind of gives people a wakeup call, or something. And it helps them realize that the person they left behind is way, way better than anything I could ever offer them.”

He gave you the saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Sweetheart, that’s not true-”

 “Maybe if it had only happened once. Or even twice. But what’s that thing they say, ‘once is random, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern’?” The half-hearted shrug you threw his way was almost too pathetic. “When this kind of things happens to you three times- in a row- it makes you wonder if you’re the problem.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Bucky was still, his eyes trained on you. You fidgeted under his gaze, picking at the last remnants of one of your nails. The voice inside your head wailed. It wondered why Bucky wasn’t refuting your argument. Why he was completely silent. It feared that he agreed with you. That he’d taken your words to heart and finally seen the light, finally realized that there really was something wrong with you. That Tara was the better choice. That he was to be number four.

The urge to slap yourself across the face surged through you. There you were, doubting him once again. Projecting your problems onto him. Suspecting him of things he had never done- would never do. It took all of your strength, but you wrangled those skeptical, distrusting thoughts and shoved them into a dark corner of your mind. 

“But um, I know that this is my issue, not yours,” you said. “It’s something I need to work on. Cause it’s not fair of me to- I shouldn’t have put all of my shit on you. I know you’d never-”

“I would never,” Bucky insisted. He closed the space between you and cradled your face gently in his big hands. “I would never do that to you. You’re the only person I will ever want.”

You gave a slight nod. There was something shameful in your words. “I know- I know that. But the logical part of my brain was, I don’t know, hijacked. Or something. All I could think about was…” you sighed, “All I could think about was when you how going to tell me. I wondered if you’d sit me down and say it to my face- or if you’d tell me at all. I thought maybe I’d come home from work one day and all your stuff would be gone.”

His hands left your face. But before you could mourn their absence, his arms were wrapped securely, protectively around your waist. It seemed as though he was trying to save you from the pain of your past, to shield you from the ghosts. It was the same protection you offered him when the nightmares came calling, when the weight of his Hydra days grew too heavy to carry alone.

He let out a contented sigh as your arms wound around his neck and pulled you closer until you were certain that your body and his would meld into one. His heart beat against your chest, his breath ghosted across your skin. And for a long moment, you forgot the fear and agony that had plagued you these last few months. For a long moment, it was perfect.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, “Ever.”

“I know,” your arms tightened around his neck. “I’m sorry for being so suspicious. And so upset. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I-”

Just then, he pulled away, just enough that his eyes could meet yours.

“I know you trust me. But you had plenty reason to be upset. And suspicious.” He brushed a kiss against your forehead, “You’ve been through a lot. It’s not your fault- your instincts were trying to protect you.”

“But-”

“No. No ‘buts’. Okay?” He was steadfast, almost stern. “You thought you recognized a pattern from your past, and you were scared. But you were just doing your best with the information you had. And that’s enough. You reacted in a way that makes sense, given the context. You don’t have to apologize or browbeat yourself for it. Okay?”

He eyed you for a long while until you gave him an unenthusiastic ‘okay’.

“And you aren’t cursed, by the way,” he asserted. “There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing about you that is going to send me running back to Tara or any of my other exes. You are…” His intense expression softened, melting into the purest form of adoration. “Everything to me. I could never want anyone more than I want you. Everything that I’ve been through- I would do it again. All of it. Because it led me to you-”

A quiet laugh left your chest.

“I’m dead serious,” he said, his expression grave. “I’d go back and do all of it again-  I wouldn’t change a single thing. If it brought me to you, I’d do it in heartbeat.”

There was no more humor in your expression, no more laughter bubbling on your surface, because he meant it. He really would repeat every heinous, awful thing that had ever happened to him- just to get back to you. Without a word, your tucked yourself against Bucky’s chest once again, and allowed his arms to crush you into his body. 

He was the good, trustworthy, loving man you always knew him to be. He was gracious. Understanding. Compassionate. Better than you ever dreamed. Better than you thought you deserved. He wasn’t a rerun of your past. No, he was a fresh, blank page. A clean slate. A brand-new story. For the first time, you didn’t have to worry about soul-crushing plot twists. You didn’t have to fear that the story might end prematurely, or that the next page might bring heartbreak. 

Your story and his were inextricably wound together, and that’s how they’d remain.

[marvelselfinserts]

Mismatched

Tony Stark x Reader You're worried that you and your boyfriend Tony are too different for each other

Your mouth falls open as you walk into the rooftop restaurant, your arm looped through Tony’s. The place is so fancy that you wouldn’t be surprised if royalty were also dining here “Tony… This is too much.”

Tony laughs “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s our one year anniversary, I wanted to treat you.”

You’ve been dating Tony Stark for a year now and things are… Mostly going well. You’d met him at an event, he’d only popped in to show his face but the moment he’d seen you he’d stayed and followed you around for the rest of the night, showing off and trying to impress you. Clearly it had worked and you’d begun dating. Now here you were a year later.

Tony leads you to a table that overlooks the city, giving you an amazing view of the Empire State Building. It’s clearly one of the best tables in the restaurant and you see another couple looking at you enviously. He pulls out your chair and you sit, taking in the view with complete awe. Tony laughs “Beautiful, isn’t it? This is one of my favourite places.”

“Yeah, it’s… It’s beautiful.” You pick up the menu, scanning through the choices. You feel your anxiety rise at all the fancy names for all the different items on the menu but you’d rather die than admit to Tony you don’t know what any of it means. You put the menu down and give him a smile “Well, you’re the expert. Why don’t you order for both of us?”

Tony’s eyes light up, loving an opportunity to show-off. The waiter comes and he orders a bottle of their most expensive champagne along with a few dishes from the menu. The waiter glances at you and you give a polite smile in return but the waiter’s eyes quickly glaze over, turning his attention back to Tony. You look back out at the amazing view and try not to mind too much. This happens nearly every time you both go out. Sometimes you think you may as well be invisible.

The waiter leaves and Tony reaches across the table to take your hand, starting to tell you all about his most recent mission with the other Avengers and you listen intently, laughing and smiling in all the right places. The waiter returns quickly with your bottle of champagne, clearly aware of who Tony is and wanting to impress him. You clink glasses and you take a breath before taking a sip of yours.

God, you fucking hate champagne.

And quite frankly, you’re beginning to hate fine dining. Before you’d met Tony fine dining had only been a dream. A world that you could look into but you’d never be a part of. But most of your dates with Tony involved going somewhere extravagant and you’d already grown bored of expensive restaurants. The staff always looked at you like they could sense that you didn’t really belong here and the food was so expensive for the portion sizes that arrived. Sure, the food was tasty enough but was it worth all that money? You weren’t so sure.

Some dates with Tony were fun – you’d mentioned that you loved the theatre so Tony had taken you to a Broadway show, getting you the most expensive seats and that had been incredible. But his extravagant lifestyle often made you uncomfortable. So far Tony had paid for everything, insisting it was the gentlemanly thing to do but you wanted to treat him one day... And there was no way you could live up to the lifestyle that Tony had gotten used to.

“I’m rambling. Sorry. Tendency to do that.” Tony squeezes your hand “Happy one year anniversary. Are we lame? Is this sappy?”

You laugh “No! It is our one year anniversary.”

“But if we get married we’ll have to celebrate our one year anniversary all over again surely? Our first year as a married couple-”

“Oh we’re talking about marriage now?”

“We’re gonna get married one day.”

You laugh, still surprised by Tony’s confidence and self-assurance even though you’ve been dating the man for a year “You’re sure about that?”

Tony nods, a cheeky smirk on his face, not deterred at all “Oh I’m certain of it. You and me are meant to be together.”

You give a small, self-conscious smile but before you can answer a group of men approach the table and start talking to Tony a mile a minute. He gives you an apologetic glance but talks animatedly to the men. You watch them all. None of them even glances in your direction, let alone makes any effort to include you in the conversation. You’re not like Tony who doesn’t seem to feel social anxiety or awkwardness in any situation. You are nothing but awkward – you have people you’re close with but anyone outside of that circle makes you feel uncomfortable. You watch them all talking, unable to join in.

Eventually the food arrives so the men bid farewell to Tony and leave. Even after all this time you’re always surprised by the portion sizes and how tiny they are. Tony smiles and turns his attention back to you as you both eat, able to keep up a steady stream of conversation. The food is… Okay. You’re sure there’s a good reason it’s so expensive, maybe the food is lined with gold or something… You don’t know. You take another sip of your champagne, hiding your grimace as you do so.

Once you’re done Tony pays the bill with a flourish and you feel a stab of guilt. You’re not stupid, everyone knows that Tony has more money than anyone could spend in a lifetime but you still feel bad that he pays for literally everything. He holds his arm out and you stand, taking it as he leads you outside “So… I have one more surprise for our anniversary.”

You raise your eye-brows “Oh really? Dinner was so nice, I was thinking maybe we could just go for a walk-”

Tony grins “No, come on, you’re gonna love it.”

You follow after Tony feeling another familiar stab of guilt. Your eyes widen as Tony leads you out of the restaurant and into a courtyard where there’s a waiting helicopter. He throws his arms up “Ta-da! We’re going to get an amazing view of the city-”

“Tony,” You feel your stomach flip over “I- Wow. I don’t know what to say. It’s just… It must’ve been so expensive-”

“Who cares how much it cost? It’s going to be amazing, we-”

“I can’t!” You suddenly cry, taking a step back “Tony, I can’t.”

Tony pauses, stopping to look at you “Hey… Hey, what’s the problem? Is this about the cost? It really doesn’t matter, I-”

“It’s not about the money! Well… Okay, it is…” You pause “I- Look. I’m terrified of flying Tony, okay, I’m lucky if I even got on a plane let alone a damn helicopter. I know it’s different for you, flying around in that Iron Man suit, I don’t know how you’re not sick-”

Tony laughs “You’ll be perfectly safe, look, you can hold my hand-”

“No!” You fold your arms and purse your lips together “Tony, don’t you ever… Think that maybe we’re too different? For this to work?”

Tony seems surprised and for a moment he’s speechless – something you’ve never seen before “What do you mean?”

You sigh “I mean… You’re… Well you’re you and I’m me. Do you really not see what I mean?”

“No. Tell me what you mean.”

You think for a moment before sighing “Tony… We’ve had some really good dates and I have a great time with you. But I’m not part of your world.”

“What do you-”

“I HATE CHAMPAGNE!” You burst “I fucking hate it; it’s so overpriced for something that tastes so shit. And fancy restaurants are great but why is the food so teeny tiny for all that money? I’m still a little bit hungry! Helicopters, galas, you once rented out a whole fucking ice rink like how insane is that-”

Tony’s silent for a moment “So, it’s about the money? The expectations?”

“I- Well, yeah, that and- You’re you, you know? You walk into a room and you don’t care who’s there or what’s going on you just own it, you’re always unapologetically you. You make everyone else adapt to you. I have no idea how to do that. I can barely order a meal at McDonald’s without stumbling over my words.” You run a hand through your hair, frustrated “You don’t see how we’re super different from each other?”

Tony hesitates before stepping closer to you and taking your hand “Do you love me?”

“That’s not-”

“Because I love you. Even if you don’t love champagne or fancy restaurants or you’re terrified of flying. Feels like something I should’ve known by the way, bad boyfriend alert-”

“But you like those things-”

“And you’ve spent a year indulging me in everything that I like at the expense of things that you like.” Tony squeezes your hand “It’s our one year anniversary and I don’t even know what your idea of a perfect date would be, I just assumed that you liked this stuff as much as me.”

You shrug “I didn’t… Grow up with this stuff Tony. I grew up with five younger siblings in a two bed apartment. It was only my Mom. I had to work the moment I turned sixteen, contribute to the bills. Luxuries just weren’t a thing.” You sigh “I don’t think I belong in your world.”

“I think you do.” Tony says “I just think my world needs to adjust to having you in it.”

You hesitate “So you-”

“What’s your idea of a perfect date?” Tony asks “Sky’s the limit. No holding back.”

You think for a moment “Honestly? It depends. On a cold night I like to order takeout and just watch a movie then maybe have a lot of sex.”

Tony laughs “Okay-”

“I like going for walks. Looking around museums. Going to the movie theatre. Just… Spending time together.”

Tony nods “Okay. Let’s ditch the helicopter ride. It won’t be fun for you if you’re scared the whole time. Let’s just… Walk.”

You sigh “Are you sure? I’m worried you won’t have fun and it must’ve cost so much to rent the helicopter-”

Tony gives a small laugh “I uh, didn’t rent the helicopter, I own it so don’t worry about that… But did you have fun in the restaurant? Be honest with me.” You hesitate and he grins “Well you clearly didn’t like the champagne.”

“The view was great! And the company was even better. The food was… Interesting.”

Tony laughs, intertwining his fingers with yours as you start walking down the busy streets of New York “If you’re still hungry we can stop at a hotdog cart or something. Though I want to circle back round to that date idea you had, what was it? Takeout, movie… Lots of sex?”

You grin “Well the sex is optional I suppose-”

“I think it’s pretty important actually, you did mention it, sounded like it was kinda important to you…”

You laugh “I’m sorry for my little outburst.”

Tony shakes his head “I loved it actually. It made me love you even more.” He squeezes your hand “I know I can be a bit over the top. It’ll be nice to have someone to ground me a little bit. I guess. It’ll be difficult. But you’re worth it.”

You look at him “What about my whole… Awkward thing?”

Tony raises an eye-brow “… Your ‘awkward’ thing?”

“I mean, yeah, surely you’ve noticed it. How awkward I am in social situations, not like you, you’re like… So over the top, regardless of situation-”

“Yeah, I’m a pain in the ass sometimes.” Tony laughs “Who cares if you’re awkward around other people? You prefer smaller circles? That’s just who you are. Honestly, I prefer smaller circles too. Less performance, less pretence that way.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m serious! I do really like smaller groups too. Yeah, I’m loud; I impress people with who I am, the money, the extravagance, blah blah blah. But I also piss off a lot of people. I know I’m lot. And I only actually like a handful of people. You happen to be one of them.”

You roll your eyes and grin “Well, I like you too. Idiot.” You glance at him “And I like our dates. I just… Occasionally I would like to switch it up a bit. We don’t need to always be spending money. Well, you don’t. I’ve never paid for anything on any of our dates. Which I feel bad about-”

Tony rolls his eyes “Don’t feel bad about it.”

“I know you have lots of it but I don’t want you to think that’s the only reason I’m with you.”

Tony laughs “I have never thought that. And if I did then your little outburst about champagne and fancy food would’ve convinced me it definitely wasn’t about the money.” Tony squeezes your hand “You passed up on a helicopter ride and instead of suggesting we spend a crazy amount of money on some kind of whacky night out you just… Wanted to go for a walk. With me. You want to spend time with me without me spending any money.”

You smile “Yeah. I guess that’s what I want.”

Tony looks thoughtful “Maybe we are pretty mismatched. But I don’t care. As long as you don’t.”

You swing his hand a little “I don’t care either then. Maybe we will get married some day.”

Tony rolls his eyes “Oh we’re definitely going to get married. I have it all planned out-”

And he’s off again, talking a mile a minute. You laugh as you listen. Life with Tony will certainly be different to what you’re used to but you’ll adjust. As long as he stays his usual charming, funny, sometimes irritating self then everything will work out. And you don’t need to change either. Tony doesn’t care that you’re awkward or broke. He still loves you. Just as you love him.

[rosenclaws]

Hi rose!!! IM SO GLAD YOU'RE BACK AHHHH

omg i was reading kitty and marie earlier AND I LOVE IT SM U ATE and now i have smth in my mind im not sure you'll like it but its like Marie has a family day activity at school and Marie insists that Logan should go with her Mommy 🫣

Family Fun Day || Worst Logan x Reader

warnings: fem!reader, fluff

a/n: this is such a good fucking idea non holy. My old elementary school used to have these events like a star night or a fun festival so Im gonna use one of these.

Kitty and Marie Series

"Family fun day? Face paint, bake sale, and games." You read off of the crumpled flyer Marie had shoved into her backpack.

"Do you want to go honey?" You ask. She looks up from her homework and nods.

"Yes please, Dani said she's gonna go with her mommy and daddy." Dani was her best friend. You often found them playing together after school when you went to pick her up.

"Can Kitty come?" She asks and you hesitate.

"We can ask but I don't know if he'll want to honey." You tell her gently.

Logan often couldn't say no to Marie but this was going to be a family day and well, you don't want to scare him by dragging him to a school with a bunch of screaming kids.

"But...but..." Her little eyes well up with tears and you can't help but laugh. Oh she's perfected her puppy eyes.

"Here, how about we'll ask him the next time we see him okay?" Marie nods and goes back to her homework. While she's occupied you whip out your phone and text Logan. Not wanting to spring something on him so he thinks he has to say yes. Marie is very convincing.

Are you free on Friday?

Yeah. Why?

Marie has this family fun day and she wants to invite you. It's totally okay if you don't want to go though because it's a lot and I don't want to put any pressure on you to go.

You bite your lip as you see the three little bubbles pop up and then disappear. Did you type too much? You didn't know if Logan would freak out seeing the family part of the family fun day. You're still early into your relationship. Hell you still get shy when someone calls you a couple. Plus Logan wasn't a very expressive texter so it was hard to read his mind when all he sends are short messages with the occasional emoji.

I'll be there.

👍

You take a deep breath as you tuck your phone back in your pocket. This is just supposed to be fun, nothing to read into right?

Marie sees Logan the next day and asks him if he wants to go. She's practically jumping up and down as he picks her up and hangs her upside down for a moment making her squeal with laughter. He says yes and Marie couldn't be happier.

Friday rolls around and you and Logan walk to her school. He can already hear the screams of the children and he shudders.

"You don't have to go Logan, it's okay really." You tell him, noticing his super senses starting to act up.

"No I promised Marie, I can deal with a few...okay a lot of rowdy kids for a few hours." He can suck it up for a little bit. Marie's waiting by the front with a few of her friends and spots them as soon as they walk up.

"Kitty!!!" She screams as she runs up to him. Logan picks her up with ease as she jumps into his arms.

"Hi Mommy! Can I get my face painted please please pleaseeeee." You laugh as she starts to squirm in his arms. Leaning over you boop her nose and tell her of course.

"Dani!! Mommy said yes!" She calls over her shoulder. Logan sets her down and he grabs both of your hands and "drags" you towards the face painting table.

"What do you want kid?" Logan asks as he bends down to look at the options.

"Mmm Butterfly or Unicorn." Marie thinks hard as she looks between the two.

"This is the hardest decision a little girl has to make." He teases.

"I think...Unicorn." She nods her head firmly and hops in the chair.

"Kitty look they have a tiger." She points out on the poster.

"Stay still honey." You tell her as she keeps moving her head.

"You should get the tiger face paint right mommy?" You smirk as you look at Logan who is shaking his head.

"No way. I am not painting a damn tiger on my face." He huffs.

"Not even for us?" You pout your lips slightly and so does Marie.

"You two are evil. Evil." He points at you and you just smile sweetly. 20 minutes later and Logan now has half a tiger painted on his face.

"You look purr-fect." You joke and he just glares at you playfully.

"Oh shut up."

Marie tugs on his hand and points towards some of the games. Her eyes go wide when she sees a massive cow plush sitting on one of the shelves.

"I need it." She whispers.

There's a crowd of kids around the booth. It was one of those knocking down the bottle games and so far everyone else has failed. Even some of the parents can't seem to get it. You hand Marie a few tickets and she goes up to the booth. He hands her a ball and she gives it her best shot. Knocking down one bottle but not the other ones.

"That was a good shot honey." You tell her trying to cheer her up. But you can see the sad look on her face. There's not tantrum or fit but just disappointment.

Logan narrows his eyes at the game. He watches a few more people take some shots and still nothing. He notices one of the bottles at the bottom get hit square in the middle but it doesn't budge. He knows most carnival games are rigged but at an elementary school? Really?

"Give me a few tickets, I'll get that stupid cow." He whispers in your ear.

"Its okay Logan we can just buy her one from the store." You tell him but he insists.

He hands the tickets to the guy at the booth and takes the ball. Logan throws the ball hard. It's not even at his full strength and it knocks the bottles clean off the stand. And rips through the tent and gets stuck in the fence behind the tent.

"Oops." Logan shrugs as everyone stares in awe. Logan plucks the cow from the high shelf and hands it to Marie. She squeals in happiness as a few kids come up to celebrate with her. Petting the fluffy hair and looking at Logan with big eyes.

"Is using mutant strength cheating?" You tease as he grabs your hand.

"Nah, That wasn't even my full strength." He smirks as Marie continues to show off her new plushie.

"Maybe I can show you how strong I really am sometime." He whispers in your ear, winking when he sees your jaw drop. Oh that jerk. You glare at him but he just smiles wider.

The whole day she wouldn't let go of it. Bragging to everyone who would hear that Kitty won it for her. She eventually hands the cow off to you as she goes to play on the playground. You and Logan sit on a bench eating some popcorn. The cow tucked under his arm.

"Thank you for coming Logan, Marie is having so much fun and so am I."

"I mean I really only came for the free food." He jokes and you roll your eyes. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer.

"Thank you for inviting me. I...It's nice being apart of your life like this." He says, his voice serious as he presses a kiss to your head.

"It was all Marie's idea. I was worried it would be too much."

"Too much how?"

"Its silly but sometimes I get nervous that we're moving too fast. The word family can be a lot." You explain. He's quiet for a moment which worries you.

"I never thought I'd be this kind of guy. The one who goes to their kids school events and gets their face painted because I can't say no to a child." He's teasing but there's a hint of vulnerability.

"How's it been so far?" You ask softly, the fact he said "their kid" doesn't escape you.

"It's better than I could have imagined." You lean your head against his shoulder as you watch Marie play.

As the fair winds down Logan gets up and heads over to the playground.

"Hey kid it's time to go home." Logan hands Marie her cow as she sighs, not wanting to leave yet.

But the promise of ice cream has her ready to go. Logan buys her a small ice cream cone on the way back. She swings on his arm as he orders and sticks by him while they wait. Marie has seemed to fall in love with him just as quickly as you have. You never imagined this was going to be your life.

Since her father left you all alone with her, it's been hard. Doing your best to make her happy, to be there for her while providing for her too. You were so happy with just the two of you and then Logan swooped in and filled the small hole that was still living in your heart.

"Thanks for inviting me kid, I had fun." Logan tells Marie as he drops you off at your apartment.

"You had to come, you're part of the family." She says. She doesn't realize how much it means to Logan to hear that.

"Yeah?" His voice is barely a whisper as Marie hugs his leg and hurries inside. You see his eyes turn misty and smile.

"She's right, you are part of your family now Logan. We're never gonna let you go now." You tease, trying to lighten the mood. He looks up at you with a serious face and your smile fades.

"I think I'm in love with you guys." He admits.

"No actually, I know I am."

The two of you were easy to fall in love with. He looks at you and suddenly his old ass wants everything. The school events and playdates, the tantrums and sick days. All of it. The good and the bad.

"Logan..." Your heart squeezes in your chest as you reach out and cup his face.

"We love you too. So much." You tell him and he kisses you gently.

You think you fell in love with him a long time ago, maybe even the first day you met him. Or at least you knew you would. He gently presses you against the door as he deepens the kiss.

"Stay for dinner?" Or stay forever. But you'll take dinner for now.

"Of course." His hands slip to your waist as you open the door.

Marie lights up seeing Logan still here. Already rambling on about making dinner. He helps her wash her hands as the three of you start to cook. He looks around to see the two of you cutting some vegetables.

There's a small tug at his heart as he realizes he's right where he wants to be. Wishing he never has to let go.

[just-dreaming-marvel-2]

so cute!

[writing-for-marvel]

She Looks Nothing Like Me

Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Fem!Reader

Summary: You get insecure when you find out you’re the complete opposite of Bucky’s usual type.

Warnings: discussions of body image issues, insecure reader, Bucky’s ex being a much slimmer figure than reader, a little angst but with reassurance

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: title and inspiration from Sabrina Carpenter’s song Opposite. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You weren’t snooping, at least not intentionally.

The picture practically fell into your lap while you were dusting the shelves of Bucky’s bookcase. An almost pristine photograph slotted between the pages of a book he hasn’t picked up in ages unlocks a vault to your deepest insecurities.

The woman staring back at you is effortlessly angelic, a type of beauty men would have gone to war for back when Bucky himself had been drafted.

There is an air of sophistication in the way she carries herself, even in the still image. As if she knows precisely how alluring she is and uses that to bend the world to her whim. High cheekbones, sparkling doe eyes, and cutting a slim figure as she clings onto your handsome, strapping Bucky makes them a picture perfect couple.

But more than how beautiful Bucky’s ex-girlfriend is, what really makes your stomach contort with self consciousness is how you look nothing like her.

You must not be Bucky’s usual type.

Before you can stop the anxious thoughts, your brain goes into overdrive, spiralling with a million different notions about how you could never match her beauty, and how Bucky would surely be disappointed that he no longer falls asleep beside someone whose body wouldn’t be out of place in a lingerie catalog.

Is this Bucky’s type? Does he look at you and see all the ways you aren’t her? Did he settle for you, knowing that because he is completely out of your league, you would never dream of leaving him? Are you the safe option?

Perhaps in the quiet moments, he thinks about what he lost, what he could have instead.

You knew Bucky dated other women before you, you’re not naive. And he’s a very attractive man so of course he would’ve had his pick of stunning women who had probably thrown themselves at the eligible bachelor.

But it’s a different prospect when you’re confronted with the hard evidence that they’re breathtakingly beautiful, thin as a toothpick and absolutely nothing like you in any way.

The realisation settles like an anvil in your stomach: he can do so much better than you.

Bucky notices that very afternoon something is bothering you. He’s nothing if not observant. Decades of war, survival and fighting to remember his own self sharpened him into someone with the ability to read between the lines and pick up on slight changes in demeanour.

It is also you, the love of his life, the person he has studied every countenance of, so it is very apparent in the way you avoid his gaze, how your smile doesn’t quite meet your exquisite eyes and how your touches aren’t as certain, that your mind is distracted.

Bucky just isn’t sure why exactly. Which makes his stomach buzz with anxiety.

What has he done wrong?

But he’s learnt from you that a relationship consists of trust and healthy communication, so he decides to simply ask.

There’s a mixture of guilt and uncertainty in your eyes as the question hangs in the air between you. He rushes to hold you in his arms, to say that he didn’t mean anything by it, but you hold your hand to his chest and keep him at arms length.

“You keep a picture of your ex in one of the hard cover books in your study.” It sounds more like a question than a statement. His chest constricts as he watches your eyes fill with doubt and thick tears.

You hand over a polaroid of Bucky and the ex girlfriend he dated before you. He can barely look at it, not because of any lingering feelings for the woman, but because he’s now putting the puzzle pieces together of why you’ve been so distant all day.

She’s in the past. He has his future standing right in front of him.

“Darling it’s not that I keep it, I just completely forgot it was there. I don’t make it a habit of holding onto pictures of someone who means absolutely nothing to me.” As a gesture to show he truly means the declaration, he rips the picture in two, and then two again, tossing the segments straight in the rubbish. “If you think I’m thinking about her, you’re wrong. I’m so fucking glad things didn’t work out with her, because if it had, I’d be stuck in a relationship with a person I didn’t truly love and I never would have met you, the love of my life.”

“She looks nothing like me, Buck. Are all your exes skinny and supermodel stunning? Am I even your type? Or just someone you settled with?” The crack in your voice breaks his heart into a thousand tiny pieces.

Bucky doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t waste a second. He steps toward you, hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tears trickling over the apples of your cheeks.

His eyes are shiny with his own tears, jaw tight, heartbreak etched into the worried furrow in his brow, searching for something in your eyes as an indication you’re not about to disappear on him.

“Don’t say that.” His voice pleads, practically begs. “You’re exactly my type, in every way imaginable. There has never been a person I find more desirable than you, not only in how your beautiful body fits so perfectly with mine, but how your mind matches my wit, that you can make me laugh even at my lowest. How after one hundred and ten years I finally feel like I’m safe and found my home.”

Home. Once Bucky says the word, it lands so heavy in your lungs that for a moment you forget to breathe.

He places a soft kiss to your forehead as a sob lodges in the back of your throat. You try to speak but nothing coherent forms on the tip of your tongue.

“You’re my standard of beauty. You’re the most beautiful person in the world to me. You’re the one I dream about at night, the one I rush home to when I’ve been away on missions because I’ve been craving you, the one whose pictures I get off to when we’ve spent more than a night away from each other.” Every word is punctuated with such effort, each syllable stitched with sincerity that you can’t help but believe he is telling the truth.

You pull him down to you, a tight embrace in lieu of having the words to tell him what this reassurance truly means to you. Bucky doesn't resist, melting into your embrace, face finding the curve of your neck, holding you as if you’re his anchor in a storm.

When he speaks his voice is low, steady, like he needs you to hear this one final statement loud and clear. “I love your body, and I’m so sorry if I ever placed any doubt in your mind, if I ever made you feel like I wanted anyone else. I don’t. You are not a compromise, my love, you are the damn dream.”

You feel his soft, plump lips kiss your neck, then your jaw, finally the corner of your mouth.

His eyes study you for a second, ensuring his words have spread a soothing balm over every ache your soul was feeling.

“I love you.” You whisper, finally finding your voice again before placing a devoted kiss to the warm lips of the man who has made you feel truly seen in ways no one else has. The kiss deepens slowly, naturally, like your bodies already know how to speak for you.

“I love you too, so much my darling.” You stay wrapped up in each other for the rest of the night, Bucky intent to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt just how in love with your body he is.

To show you’re not someone he settled for.

Instead, you’re the one he was waiting his whole life to find.

Follow @ems-library for fic notifications

[rosenclaws]

A little Jealous || Worst!Logan x Reader

summary: After your date with Logan you notice he hasn't been around as much. Then you see something that makes you spiral just a little.

warnings: jealousy, slight angst, fluffy ending, both of them being idiots low key.

a/n: So this is the idea born from my dream where I got mad at Logan LOL. The jealousy fueled this fic but it ends much happier here.

wc: 1.4k

Kitty and Marie

There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this right? Jumping to conclusions isn't a good idea and you know that it'll just hurt you in the long run. But as you see Logan laughing and smiling with a woman you don't recognize, it's hard for your brain to go anywhere else but down.

He looks so happy, so at ease. They're eating ice cream at that stupid ice cream shop he swore he'd take you to one day. Was he done with you? Decided after a date that he wasn't really interested?

The date you had with Logan was amazing. You wore the blue sundress he told you to and he showed up with flowers and a button up shirt. He was nothing but a gentleman. He took you to dinner and you kissed his cheek after he dropped you off. You thought it was perfect, but maybe Logan didn't think the same.

He had been...not avoiding you but he wasn't around as much. He still said hi to Marie in the halls and would come over a tea party but when it was just the two of you there was this odd tension that just wouldn't break. Unsaid words and longing looks. You're too afraid to make a move and you guess he just, got tired of you.

"Kitty!" Marie points at Logan. She wiggles her little hand out of your grip and takes off right towards Logan.

"Marie wait!" You call as you chase after her. Logan's attention snaps towards Marie as he hears her voice. He stands up and grabs her, hoisting her up into his arms.

"Woah kid hold your horses." Logan says and Marie giggles.

"I missed you Kitty." She says with a pout. It had been a while since Logan had been over and even she noticed.

"I know kid I'm sorry." He apologizes. You reach the two of them and feel Logan's eyes settle on you.

"Honey you cannot run away from me like that!" You scold lightly. You take her from Logan's arms, barely even looking at him. You don't see the way he frowns when you ignore him.

"I'm sorry mommy." She says and you kiss her cheek.

"Sorry for interrupting." You apologize, looking between the two of them. You glance down at his date and she's not so subtly sending you a death glare but when Logan looks back at her she smiles.

"Who's this cute little thing." She coos at Marie who narrows her little eyes at the stranger.

"I'm Marie and this is my mommy and Kitty."

"Kitty?" The woman looks towards Logan and raises an eyebrow. He just shrugs, smiling as he looks at the two of you.

"Cute." Her voice is sweet but the sharpness pokes through. Clearly she is uninterested in letting the two of you crash their little moment.

"Well we should get going..." You say awkwardly, begging for any excuse to get away from the two of them.

"No no stay, please." Logan grabs your arm gently and you slowly meet his eyes. Fuck he's still handsome.

"Logan I think they're busy, we should let them go. I'm sure miss Marie and her mommy are just fine on their own." His date chimes in. You clench your jaw at her tone.

"It was just a pleasure meeting you." You say sarcastically. Call it petty but you do enjoy the way she narrows her eyes at you, as if she's sizing you up as competition. Please, you have more important things to care about than her.

"Bye Logan." You say shortly, leaving him completely confused as you walk away with Marie without another word.

You hear a gasp come from behind you and look to see Marie sticking her tongue out. You should tell her that it's rude but instead you think you'll buy her a cookie later.

Logan shouldn't be taking up your brain as much as he does. Your whole day was spent trying to forget him. You were jealous and you hated that you were. The two of you weren't exclusive, he had every right to go out with someone else. But you think he'd have the decency to tell you.

The more you think about it the angrier you get, not for yourself but for Marie. He had come in and became a part of your lives so quickly and now you have to explain that he won't be anymore. You can't bring yourself to say it yet as Marie was still utterly in love with Logan.

A knock at your door and the soft call of your name makes you groan. You open the door to see Logan waiting.

"What do you want Logan? Marie is asleep for the day." You say flatly. Logan almost flinches at how cold you sounded.

"I wanted to see you. If that's okay." He says gently.

"Uh sure," You stand to the side and let him in.

"How was your date?" You ask, cringing inside just a little bit but the jealousy growing inside of you makes you do stupid things.

"Date?" He asks confused. "What date?"

"You know. Ice cream with that pretty woman." You say with a huff. Logan tilts his head like a puppy and you guilt starts to grow inside of you.

"That wasn't a date." He says firmly.

"Look Logan," You sigh as you lean against your door. You start to close in on yourself, crossing your arms to make yourself smaller.

"It's okay. We aren't...anything and if you want to go out on a date then go for it." You're trying to be the nice one but it's not easy. But this isn't for you, this is for Marie.

"Marie still loves you though and if you aren't going to be around much anymore that's fine but you have to tell her because I can't break her heart like that okay?"

"Woah woah hold on sweetheart, slow down." Logan grabs your arms gently. Trying to get you to stop talking so he can explain himself. He hates the way your eyes tear up and the way your voice sounds so small.

"That woman was a friend of Vanessa's. She's new in town and so am I so Wade thought it would be a good idea for me to show her around I guess. It was not a date, no fucking way." He explains. Deep down he thinks Wade was getting sick of his shit. Someone he's responsible for this he just doesn't know how yet.

"Well she certainly thought it was." You mumble as you stare at the ground. Logan tilts your chin up and frowns.

"Tough shit for her then because the only one I have my eye on is you."

"Then why have you been avoiding me since our date?" You ask.

"Because...I got nervous. I'm not the best with expressing how I feel and-" Logan cuts off, unsure of how to explain it all. He doesn't know the right words to express just how he feels but he tries.

"I like you a lot and it scares the hell out of me." He mumbles, his thumb running over your lips gently.

"I like you too Logan. This is scary. Letting someone new into our lives knowing you could break both our hearts so easy is terrifying. But I think you're worth it." If Logan ever walks away it will crush you and Marie but fuck you want Logan to stay so bad. You want him to be apart of your lives forever and you hope he feels the same.

"I'm not worth much sweetheart." He tells you.

"But I'll try to be the man you both deserve."

"Oh shut up, you already are." You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss. He tastes just like you imagined. His lips are a little rough but you don't care. His hands go to your waist, pushing you into the door as he groans into the kiss.

"Oh Logan..." You moan quietly as his lips move to your neck. Your heart racing as he nips at the sweet spot under your jaw.

"I ever tell you that you're cute when you're jealous?" He purrs.

"I wasn't jealous." You say weakly and he just laughs.

"Sure you weren't sweetheart." He hums, a cocky look in his eye as he pulls back. His hands still wrapped around your waist as he kisses you again.

"You did take her to the place you promised you take me." You argue back.

"I'll take you to a better spot, that place was shit anyways they had too many weird flavors." He complains.

"I bet you like Vanilla old man, or if you're feeling frisky you'll get chocolate." You joke. He rolls his eyes and squeezes your side making you yelp.

"Yeah yeah just kiss me again."

[just-dreaming-marvel-2]

This was so adorable!