Can we get something for either Tequila!reader or Poly Poolverine!reader?? Whichever one strikes your fancy :)
"You're up late, Chuck," Logan said, sitting across from Charles at his desk.
"The burden of command," Charles snorted. "Almost as insomnia-inducing as being burdened with knowledge, I imagine."
Logan huffed a laugh, "Stay out of my head, Chuck."
The other man shook his head, "She told me that she spoke to you. A warning, I suppose."
Logan nodded, "Are people looking for her?"
"Y/N assumes that with her father jailed and her brother and uncles being both, in her estimation, stupid and greedy, the family is too busy fighting amongst themselves- she's mostly correct."
Charles waved a hand dismissively and shook his head, "Her father will rouse himself from his stupor every so often and try to come after her. Her brothers and uncles will try to curry favor and try it every once in a great while. But- Y/N is fairly savvy. And of course, she has friends."
Logan frowned but nodded, "Anything upcoming?"
"Nothing," Charles said. "The only burden she bears is what she already holds."
Logan walked down the hall, rubbing the back of his neck. Thinking.
Outside, the conversation set on him like a weight. He'd not known really what to say- and he resorted to making jokes. Poking at you. But you'd walked away from him, gently pulling your hand out of his. Pulling away. And then you'd gone to talk to Charles.
The house was quiet, mostly. Kids slept. Adults crept about, playing out all the little dramas that simmer during the day. He could hear it in fits and starts all night long. But tonight there was a new noise up the hall.
Coming from your room. Crying. You're crying. It's soft. Little whimpers- like a kid afraid of the dark. And it makes his guts twist miserably. Were you crying because of him? Did he hurt you earlier?
He hesitated at the door and knocked softly, "Y/N?"
When you didn't answer but he heard more pitiful little whimpers he pushed the door open, "Princess?" he called softly, crossing the floor. "Hey- what's wrong?"He touched your arm and shook lightly.
"Please don't- I don't want- no-" you plead and Logan feels his heart clench.
"Honey," he hummed, stroking your hair, "wake up. I'm here."
Your eyes fly open and you put your hand on Logan's chest, flailing and shoving at him uselessly. Fingers closing around his dog tags as you do.
"Princess, let go," he said, rubbing your hand, "Don't-"
But as your eyes roll back in your head and you gasp for breath and struggle against things only you can see- he knows it's too late. You fall back, the tags and the chain in your hand. "Help!" He yelled. "Help!"
He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what you could see. But he knew it hurt. Fuck did he understand that it hurt. "Let go!" he tried. "Baby, let go!" He rubbed your hand and tried to pull you forward. Tried to bring you back to "Now" but there was no "Now" that you could see.
There was only murky water and pain.
"Help!" Logan yelled again. "Jesus christ, hurry up!" Tendons were standing out in your neck and your gasping for breath was turning into a gurgle. Christ, could this kill you? "YN you gotta let go-"
But then you went limp. The tags and the chain falling to the floor. Logan slapped the side of your face carefully, You were breathing but- god. You were cold. He scooped you up and ran into the hall, pushing past the kids.
"Jean," he panted "what-"
"Take her downstairs," she said, glancing at Charles, worried. "There has to be- What did she touch?"
"My dog tags," Logan said wincing.
"Go," Charles said. "The rest of you- back to your rooms."
Logan nodded and turned to take you to the elevator, kissing your forehead. 30 seconds with his past. 30 seconds and this happened. "I'm sorry, princess," he murmured.
