lover of mine
drew starkey x actress!reader au
— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.
warnings: cute little way to end the night .. OR SO U THINK
one | two | three | four | five | six
authors note: 😋😋 dont be mad guys im writing the next part asap. if you arent already part of the tag list, let me know in the replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3
(pretend he’s wearing the same clothes stop)
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dstarkeynews Drew and Y/N’s first appearance in a year on September 30th in Santa Barbara, California!
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user1 i haven’t heard about them in forever
user2 ALMOST HAD HIM
user3 I thought they broke up 😭😭
↳ user4 i think they’re on and off
user5 I remember them from 2018 they’re so cute!
user6 tbh i’m happy for them !!
↳ user6 i’m crying .
user7 y’all don’t love them like i do
user8 i was really hoping they didn’t break up omg
user9 they thought they could keep it a secret 😒
user10 WERE THOSE FLOWERS FOR Y/N ????!?$:!:! OMGMGF 😭
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you’re carrying a basket of groceries as you walk with leila through the area. there’s not much on your mind besides checking items off of leila’s list. and it feels nice not having to worry about anything because leila makes you feel normal, makes you and drew feel normal.
speaking of, drew’s just trailing behind you both, though he checks out a few things whenever he sees something he wants to try.
eventually he comes up from your left side and places something he’s bought into your basket, then takes it from you so he can hold your hand with his opposite hand. it feels so natural that you don’t even react, and even if you did acknowledge it, you don’t care.
“it’s so nice to just be out here like regular human beings,” you say, though you note that there’s always a few following behind you three but keep their distance to be a little respectful of your space.
you can hear them giggling every now and then or saying ‘hi’ to their videos that they capture you in, but you don’t think much of it. you think it’s adorable.
drew, however, is itching to get to the car and go home already. leila’s complained twice already that they haven’t completed her list but you’ve already bought everything important for tonight, so you just suggest you go home so both parties still benefit.
leila’s a stubborn one but she gives in when drew is pleading with his palms together. you laugh when she says she can’t stand seeing his “stupid fucking puppy dog eyes”.
when you’re done with your little mini-trip, you return to the car. leila is skipping over with two bags of things while you and drew walk together behind her, swinging your hands back and forth.
he opens your door for you and takes the basket from you so he can keep it in the backseat with leila who happily takes it, and you slide into the passenger’s seat without a thought.
“come on,” his voice pulls you out of the tiktok you’re watching, and you switch your phone off, leaving it on the bed as you drag a blanket with you.
drew’s heading downstairs and he dives right into the sofa, awaiting for everyone to come down already. you wrap the blanket around your body as you shuffle over, seating yourself by his legs.
he sits up instinctively and wraps his arms around you, the side of his head resting on your shoulder as you look around. only a few of you are there—you’re just missing gia and libby who, you guess, are getting the snacks and drinks. and you’re right.
“incoming everyone! don’t be alarmed,” libby says as she and gia make way with the food, and you’re in awe at the spread they’re providing.
“you have your homemade sandwiches—”
“that leila bought from the store,” libby is playing gia’s truth echo that makes you and the others laugh.
“assortment of chips!”
“that i got carried away with and ate half of!”
“can’t go wrong with your candies!”
“theo you owe me fifteen dollars!”
“what?”
“and lastly,” gia closes it out as libby runs back to the kitchen to bring over the tray of cups and drinks. you see oscar rub his hands together mischievously as leila practically drools at the sight. “our drinks!”
libby holds up a cup, “with your name on this complimentary glass that you get to take home after the trip.”
you woo as the glass cups get passed down, and you compare yours with drews while giggling about the free gift. you reach for one of the bottles and fill your glass with it, then take a sip.
“this is what you were working all day on while we were away?” leila asks the girls, extremely impressed by how much dedication they had to providing everyone snacks for her movie night. it essentially is just putting the items into cute bowls and calling it a day, but still. it made her heart warm.
you reach forward and grab a few of the candies and hand one to drew, hinting that you want to try it together. these were purchased by you because you were curious about the taste earlier while you were out.
“ready?” you ask him quickly as he already knows the drill, getting prepared to try it as you count it off. “one, two—” you lean your head back to let the multiple candies you have slide into your mouth while drew just pops his one into his mouth.
as you chew, you raise your eyebrows in surprise. they're really good, and he nods, a small ‘oh yeah’ escaping his lips as he sucks some of the chocolate off of his fingers. you reach over to grab the small bowl, then keep it for yourself without saying anything.
you and drew share a blanket so you’re able to hide the bowl on your lap while he reaches to fill his glass with a drink. oscar hits play on the first movie and you lean into drew’s side to watch the movie this way.
you fall asleep during the second movie, long story short. you can’t help it. but at least you last longer than leila, who fell asleep toward the end of the first one. she was the first one to fall asleep during her own movie night.
drew’s arm tightens around you for a moment, and he shifts to look down at you, finally noticing you’ve completely drifted off.
with a sigh, he decides to call it a night and he rises, sliding out from under you. you stir but don’t fully wake, instinctively curling into the empty spot left by his body.
he hesitates, but then scoops you up gently. you don’t wake up even a bit while your head rests against his chest and he carries you upstairs to the guest room.
the room is already dimly lit by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. he carefully lays you down on the bed, your body finding the most comfortable position as he covers you with the blanket. your breathing is steady as you fall deeper into sleep, and he stands there for a moment, watching you in the soft light, before he moves to sit at the edge of the bed, his fingers brushing against your leg as he retrieves his phone from his back pocket.
for the first time all day, drew unlocks his phone, the screen lighting up with a shit ton of notifications. missed calls, texts, and a few unread emails flash across the screen, and he scrolls through them with a frown, trying to catch up.
as he gets back up to return to his side of the bed, he swipes through several messages, most of them from his close friends—some teasing, some concerned—before he pauses on one that makes his heart sink.
his eyes narrow, his thumb hovering over the text as his mind races. he was expecting a couple of messages, but not this. not this many. his phone buzzes again, a few more messages lighting up the screen, and he rubs a hand across his face, letting out a quiet, frustrated breath.
his gaze flickers to you again, making sure you’re still fast asleep. the last thing he wants is to wake you up with this, but he glances back down at his phone.
he presses the power button on his phone with a little more force than necessary, the screen going black, then he tosses the phone onto the nightstand with a dull thud. he quickly winces when the sound is a little louder than he expected.
his heart skips a beat when you stir, your eyes fluttering open just slightly, still half-asleep.
“star?” you mumble softly, the name slipping out instinctively.
drew freezes, his gaze immediately shifting to you as you shift under the covers. he forces a smile, leaning forward a little, his voice low and soothing. “sorry,” he murmurs. “just dropped my phone. go back to sleep, okay?”
you blink at him, your eyes barely open, but you manage a small nod, already too drowsy to fully process what’s going on. you can’t read that he’s just lied to you.
“mmf, okay…” you mumble, your body curling into the pillow as you drift back into sleep.
he lets out a quiet sigh of relief, watching as your breathing evens out again. for a moment, the tension in his chest eases, but only just. he leans back, letting his head rest against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments before turning off the bedside lamp.
as the darkness settles around him, the weight of everything presses down harder, and he turns onto his side, facing you. the soft glow of moonlight still filters through the window, and you look so . . . peaceful.
he stays like that for a while, watching you sleep, his mind swirling with thoughts he can’t quiet.
but eventually, drew pulls the blanket up over his shoulder and closes his eyes, trying to shut out the noise in his head and go to sleep.
@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey
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“GUILTY PLEASURE” | 8.6k
logan howlett x fem!reader
“I want this like a cigarette / Can we drag it out and never quit?” Guilty Pleasure by Chappell Roan
SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.
WARNINGS/TAGS: smut - mdni 18+ fluff, angst, drinking, dirty talk, slow-burnish, grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader, reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes, age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, finger sucking, soft dom!logan, wade being the funniest asshole, logan calls reader "kiddo/kid"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.
** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.
*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)
**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)
special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever
The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.
Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.
Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you.
Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.”
Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.
The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend.
You:
cutie patootie alert
there’s this really handsome guy at the bar
i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before
i think i’m in love with him
my night just got a 100% better
Allison:
age
what does he look like
is he bald?
You:
he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here
brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong
i didn’t stare at him for too long
otherwise that would’ve been very weird
and no he’s not fucking bald
that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair
Allison:
so you’re dating retired now
get it grandma!
You:
oh fuck you allison
Allison:
it’s okay girl we all have our flaws
just make sure it’s nobody’s father
wait it’s not mine right?
You:
nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it
Allison:
bitch
Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.
“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.
The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”
Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”
Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss.
Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”
The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.
“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”
Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.”
“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”
Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.
“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features.
“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”
(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)
He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.
“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”
“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules.
“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up.
You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.
“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”
Yeah… that you knew.
It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.
As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.
“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.
“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”
“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”
For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.
“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”
His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”
“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”
“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”
“Look, Wolvie. I–”
“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”
“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”
You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.
Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.
“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”
The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”
“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”
“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”
“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”
A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”
“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”
“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”
“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”
Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”
“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”
“Me neither.”
“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”
You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”
Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”
But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”
The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.
(But you aren’t.)
His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”
“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”
Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”
“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”
“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”
As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.
What the fuck had just happened?
“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”
She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”
You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”
After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.
Your savior complex strikes again!
It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail.
Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”
Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.
“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”
“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”
“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”
“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”
You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”
“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”
“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.
Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.
“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients.
“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”
“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?
“You sure?”
“Affirmative.”
“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”
“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”
“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.
“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”
“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”
Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”
Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.
“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”
Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”
“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”
“What? No.”
“Why not? She’s cute.”
Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.
Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”
“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.
After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”
You could die at peace.
“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”
“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”
“Now why would you think that?”
“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”
“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”
“You don’t have to.”
“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.
“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”
“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”
“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.
He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”
Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”
His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”
This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.
“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.
“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”
You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.
Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.
Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”
You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”
“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment.
Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”
“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”
“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”
Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”
“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”
“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”
“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”
When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”
“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you.
Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”
“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”
From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”
“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”
“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”
“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”
“Go fuck yourself, will you?”
“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”
Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?
Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.
“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.
You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”
Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”
You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”
He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?
“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”
He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him.
“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”
You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”
The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”
“I just... I want to understand you better.”
“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”
“I beg to differ.”
“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”
He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”
With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.
“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”
“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”
The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his.
Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”
Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”
But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”
Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”
You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”
He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”
“Should I give you some space?”
That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”
“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”
“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”
“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”
“God, do you ever shut up?”
You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.
“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”
“Am I that easily replaced?”
“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”
Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.
Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.
He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?
It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.
Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?
“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.
“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”
The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic.
“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”
“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”
You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.
“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”
“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”
“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”
“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”
“Careful.”
“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”
You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”
His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”
“Get your hands off her.”
Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on.
“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”
“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”
Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”
“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?”
The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”
“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.
“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.
“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.
“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”
“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”
The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”
Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”
“Don’t. Now is not the time.”
“I was protecting you.”
“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.
Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”
You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”
“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”
“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”
His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”
“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”
You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days.
“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.
“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”
In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.
“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”
“Right here? On the counter?”
“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”
“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”
“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.
“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”
Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”
“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”
“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”
“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”
His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”
“L-logan–”
“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”
You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”
With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you.
“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”
He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble.
“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”
“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”
Who had given him a damn script for this?
The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.
Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”
And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.
“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”
You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”
“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”
You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”
Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”
part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”
dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! :)
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if you keep asking | s.r
pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader
a/n: this was requested with “if you keep asking me i’m not gonna be okay” or smth along the lines 😭 i am a glutton for hurt/comfort fics so if yall have any more requests send em in :)
summary: in which you’re trying to keep it together when you hear some detectives talking ill of you, and spencer isn’t gonna have it
cw: hurt/comfort, self deprecation, insecure!reader, bitch ass detectives, protective bau my heart, use of she/her pronouns
wc: 2.2k
_______
the bau team was filing into the bullpen after landing from their last case in seattle, everyone making a beeline for their desks to get a head start on their reports so they could go home faster. everyone, except you. it felt like you were on autopilot, remembering your last known movements and just repeating them for as long as you could.
the case in seattle was rough to say the least. the unsub’s mo seemed to change every minute, making any progress the team made obsolete. the only thing that seemed to be somewhat consistent was where the unsub was taking his victims, which meant the geographical profile was the most important part to solving the case, a task you and reid were assigned to.
it started off fine, you both had found the comfort zone of where the unsub would strike next to figure out how to catch him in the act. except the next time he struck it was completely out of the predicted range, and this time a kid had died. no one could have anticipated that happening. it didn’t make the loss hurt any less.
the team knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, humans are unpredictable, and that includes serial killers. spencer made sure to tell you specifically that it wasn’t your fault, he knew how you’d get if someone didn’t tell you.
his efforts went to utter waste when you walked by a room at the precinct with detectives whispering about how “you fucked up the whole profile, that’s why that kid died” and “it’s clear you make the team stupider, how did you even get into the fbi in the first place?”
it wasn’t the first time your abilities were in question. you were the newest member of the team, having only transferred six months ago from cold cases. you may be new to the field, but there was a reason hotch chose you personally for the bau.
you tried hard to prove yourself, despite pretty much everyone saying your skillset was enough proof. you’d stay late to finish reports, do extra research on cases to help garcia narrow her searches faster, and you spent countless hours at the training range.
you were a worthy agent, anyone who knew you or read your resume knew that. but right now, you felt like the smallest person on earth, an imposter. what the hell were you even doing here if you couldn’t save him.
you shouldn’t be allowed to feel relief that the team caught the unsub, not when there’s blood on your hands.
the bad thoughts swirling in your head causes you to stall your motions when you’re putting files away, gaining the attention of morgan, “you alright, sweet cheeks?”
“i’m good morgan, don’t worry.” you lie effortlessly. if he can tell you’re lying, he doesn’t mention it and turns back to his work.
taking a deep breath, you stand up to go to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, when you run into jj finishing up making her own, “i was just thinking about you, i got this new creamer i think you’d rea-, hey, are you okay?” jj starts but ends concerned.
you try to focus on metronomic tick of the clock so you dont escalate, “i’m fine j,” you laugh unconvincingly, “what creamer did you get?”
she ignores your question, “because i know that was a tough case, and if you need to talk about it with someo-“
“jj, drop it, please.”
the blonde’s face drops a little at your sternness, but respects your space and offers you to try the creamer before returning to her desk. you feel bad for snapping at her, but the growing guilt within you is giving you apathy, and you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment.
you linger in the kitchen so as to avoid any more concerned faces, and you’re left to your own devices that are slowly overtaking you.
unbeknownst to you, spencer had been watching you since you all landed back in quantico. he kept his distance, mostly because he knew how overwhelmed you get at confrontation, especially about your emotions. he was the same way, a man of logic getting befuddled by emotion was enough cognitive dissonance to last a long time.
he knew it was different with you. you had a way of internalizing everything in your surrounding, a downfall to your endless empathy for others even if they never deserve it. he could explain the logic behind your beliefs, and hopefully use facts to help you relax, but that was the other thing he knew about you; you were stubborn. asking for help is something you hated doing, and if it wasn’t on your accord to be asking, it was even more detrimental to your mood.
so when he watched you duck out from the kitchen and push past the glass doors of the bullpen, he knew you were reaching the head of your doom spiral quickly.
spencer got up from his desk, “i’m gonna go check on her.”
jj nodded, “just be mindful spence, something feels different.”
they’d all been on cases that hit a little too close to home, how could they not when all they do is rid the world of the evilest of evildoers. but after a good cry, a rant to a teammate, or even an emergency therapy session, even the worst of the scum could be washed away.
something about the way you’ve been acting since they landed seemed like those fixits aren’t going to work this time.
he let out a sigh in response and walked out of the bullpen, realizing he didn’t actually know which direction you went in. assuming you’d want to be alone, he thinks the bathroom might’ve been a viable option for you and heads towards it.
the nice thing about the seventh floor is that it’s only for the bau, the bullpen was where the team spent most of their time but outside the doors there were so many empty rooms being used for storage.
so as spencer walked towards the bathroom in the hopes of finding you, his ears pick up on a tiny sniffle a little ways before it. he stops in his tracks, hoping he was just hearing things. but another pained sob rang through the door on his left, and he knew he’d found you.
he rapps the door a few times, softly calling your name, “hey, it’s spencer…can i come in please?”
you were on the other side sitting at one of the abandoned desks with your head down, but shot up at hearing spencer’s voice, “i- i’m fine i just needed a minute. i’ll be back in like two minutes, i promise.” you angrily wipe at the tears pooling on your face, grateful that you took your makeup off in the plane.
“honey, that’s not what i asked,” he starts, “is it okay if i come in?
your heart clenches at the term of endearment as you stare at the door knowing he was waiting for your okay to come in, and you start to internally weigh your options. you could let him in, and let him in to do whatever comforting you know logically would help. or you could lie, and feign ignorance to the end.
don’t they say ignorance is bliss?
you make sure to wipe the last of your tears and your runny nose before practicing a few fake smiles so it didn’t look like your face was frozen in sadness for the last thirty minutes. turning the knob you swing the door open, borderline creepy smile on your face as you greet the man, “hi dr. reid! was there something you were looking for?”
he furrows his brows at your complete (fake) shift in mood, but he comes in and shuts the door behind him, and moves to stand a few feet from you, “what’s going on?”
“nothing spence, i’m fine.” you insist.
spencer thinks if you could be more see through you’d be a windexed window. you’re avoiding eye contact with him, picking at the skin of your thumb, he can see your nose is red most likely from all the tissue blowing, and your eyes are still puffy and lined with some unshed tears still. you are so clearly breaking at the seams, like an old childhood teddy bear with stuffing falling out the sides yet hoping you can offer some semblance of stability despite your state.
“you don’t look fine, honey. why won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?”
his words almost make you falter, and you think the walls you built so high are starting to chip down. “it’s not a big deal spence, i-,” a hiccuped breath gives you away, “i can deal with it on my own.”
spencer instinctively shortens the gap between you two, “you shouldn’t have to. i just wanna help you.”
“but i’m oka-“
“no you’re not.”
there is only one tiny thin thread left holding you together. “well,” you take a deep inhale and your voice gets impossibly small, “if you keep saying things like to me i’m not gonna be okay.”
“that’s why i’m here.” he says softly.
you look up at him with the biggest glassy doe eyed look he’s ever seen, and it’s like spencer can hear the snap of the thread in real time when he watches your face absolutely crumble. he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, allowing him to hold your head down in the middle of his chest while his other hand smooths up and down your back in comfort.
“i know, shh, hey it’s okay, i got you.” he comforts.
your hands wrap around his waist beneath his suit jacket and you keep your face buried in his chest, inhaling the musky vanilla scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh laundry detergent smell letting it ground you back to him.
“i’m sorry.” you cry.
“don’t say that,” he hushes, “is it about the case?” you nod in his embrace, “we talked about it remember? there was nothing we could have done. we did everything right, sometimes it just doesn’t work out, you know that.” he moves his hand to tangle in your hair and rub your head.
“i- i know,” you say through labored breaths. you take a big breath before admitting the true reason for your anguish, “when we were about to leave, i walked by a room with some detectives talking about how i ruined the case and that…i’m the reason the kid died.”
“what?” he pulls back to look you in the eyes hoping to find any indication that you didn’t believe those poisoned words, “we both worked on that geographical profile together, the whole team agreed it was accurate and acted accordingly. what happened was not your fault. at all.” he emphasizes the last two words.
“yeah but…i don’t know maybe i could ha-“
“stop. you can’t do that to yourself. we did what we could with what we had, the burden of that child’s passing does not fall on you. we were only able to find the unsub’s hiding spot when you figured out he’d been going to the same gas station since the murders started.” he reinforced to you.
“they said that they didn’t know how i even got into the academy in the first place, and that i make the team stupider.” you quietly added.
spencer felt the rage consume his body, already planning the ways he was going to obliterate seattle pd. he cradled your head to look at him in the eyes, “listen to me. you are an important asset to this team. you make this team better at what they do, you make me better at what i do. you mean so much to me and the team okay? please don’t forget that.”
he swipes at a fallen tear on your cheek as you tell him between sniffles, “thanks spence…” you hope he understands the sentiment and love you’re trying to exude to him, even thought you’re unable to vocalize it.
“you gotta tell me if something like that happens,” he softly scolds you, “i’ll make sure they lose their fucking jobs.”
you’re about to speak when he cuts you off, “and don’t tell me that we should be the bigger people, because once the rest of the team hears about this, they’re all gonna be fighting over who’s gonna kick the shit out of them.”
you let out a tearful giggle, “you sound really funny when you curse.”
he scoffs, “what the hell, i do not!”
“you sound like a baby duckling that just learned how to say fuck.”
he starts to guide you out of the room and towards hotch’s office so you can recount what happened, “ouch, i’m hurt. i’d like to think the pistol and fbi badge i carry makes me intimidating.”
you giggle again, and spencer puts aside his rage to revel in the fact that you’re feeling better.
when hotch learned of what happened he immediately called seattle pd to file a motion to get those detectives fired, and the rest of the team were secretly praying for a case in seattle again so they could, as spencer predicted, kick the shit out of them.
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