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duskspring · 10 months

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Cuddling - Secondo& GN!Reader

Domestic December - Day 3

Summary: Secondo comforts you after a rough day

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Hurt/comfort, crying, soft Secondo

Word count: ~2.4k

You weren’t sure how long you’d been staring at your ceiling. You wanted nothing more than to sleep this horrible day away, but for some reason your mind refused to let it all go.

Maybe you were making a big deal out of nothing. Scratch that, you definitely were. Everyone got chastised by their superiors from time to time, didn’t they? Still, there was no reason for that Brother to be so harsh. And there you went again, replaying it all over.

But just as you got to the worst part of the few hours old memory, a knock at the door shook you from your focus.

You didn’t make a move towards the door and neither did you say anything. You waited in hope that the person would leave. You couldn’t face anyone like this. If they saw you, they’d see you were sad and if they saw you were sad they’d ask why and you’d probably immediately break down-

“Piccolina, I will not have you ignore me.”

Oh. Fuck.

Within a second you were up and at the door. How could you possibly forget your evening plans with Secondo?!

“Papa, I’m so sorry, I-” The words spilled out of your mouth faster than even you could keep up, your eyes fixed straight to the floor.

Papa would clearly have none of it, “What happened to you?” He grabbed your chin and forced you to look up at him.

His gaze was searching, trying to figure you out. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was concerned.

Words escaped you. Not even a lie came out of your mouth. You were barely aware that you were shaking your head, tears forming in your eyes just like you predicted would happen.

“Stellina,” You let out a sob as he gestured behind you towards your room, “Sit down.”

Without a second thought you followed his instruction. Of course you’d take the chance to turn away from him immediately. He wasn’t here to see you cry about nothing. You were supposed to come over to his room, fuck and leave. That’s how those things went.

Your mattress creaked when you sat down on it. Once again, you stared at the ground, fighting a losing battle to stop more tears from falling.

You heard the door close and a part of you assumed Secondo had left you there on your own. He had all the right to do so, he never signed up to watch you break down like this.

And yet he came back into your sight, crouching down in front of you.

He grabbed your chin just like before, grabbing a little tighter when you tried shaking out of his grip. Lord, you felt like a child.

“Tell me what happened.” His voice was stern, but not unkind.

“...It’s nothing.”

“Tell me.” There was more of an edge to his voice, a warning. Yet simultaneously his thumbs caressed the tears off your cheeks oh so delicately.

You sniffed, “It’s stupid-”

“I highly doubt that. Tell me what happened.”

You had to take a deep, steadying breath to be able to speak more than two words, “I messed up at work and got yelled at for it. That’s it.” You finally looked into his eyes again, as if trying to prove how silly you were being.

“And why do you think that’s so stupid?”

Your mouth opened to answer, but no words came out. Why was it stupid? What kind of question was that? It just was.

“That’s what I thought.” He said as he stood back up to his full height and walked away from you again.

“Wait…” You called out almost instinctively. You didn’t want him to see you like this, but somehow the idea of him leaving was even worse.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured over his shoulder, still walking away from you but not towards the door, but the little water cooker you had standing on a counter.

You watched in silent fascination as he filled it with water and turned it on, going through your cabinets in search of mugs and tea bags. He grabbed two mugs at random, letting out what almost sounded like a brief chuckle as he inspected the silly dinosaur illustrations that decorated them. He then found the wooden box you stored your tea bags in, silently studying the different flavor options. He picked out two of them, not asking for your input.

Your tears seemed to dry up without you noticing, mostly out of confusion and shock.

Secondo seemed weirdly in his element. He removed his shoes and neatly put them off to the side next to yours. His movement from one end of the room to another was smooth, picking up the water cooker before it was fully done warming up so the tea would immediately be at a drinkable temperature.

You stared dumbfoundedly as he stalked back towards you and held out a cup in front of you. Your hand didn’t lift. Your mind, and by extension your body, were drawing a blank.

“Just what was said to you to scramble your mind this much?” He acted as if this was completely normal behavior for him, as if what happened earlier in the day was still the reason you were so taken aback.

“I just… I’m sorry, Papa.” You shook your head, finally taking the offered beverage.

“For what?” There he went questioning you again.

“For being a mess.”

The man scoffed, setting his own cup down on your nightstand before moving past you to lay down on your bed. Your eyes stayed glued to his being, going slightly wide.

He lounged there like he owned the place, looking at you expectantly. When you again didn’t move, he sighed. One of his arms opened up while the other patted his chest.

A part of you was afraid you’d misunderstood. Surely he hadn't meant… Well, what did you have left to lose at this point? You set your mug down, moving further onto the bed and slotted yourself against his side, one arm draped over his chest.

It seemed like the right thing to do, since he responded by pulling you fully on top of him. Your cheek now rested on his chest, his steady heartbeat thumping against your ear. He was warm, his robes wrapping around you with his arms like a blanket. His hands laced together at the small of your back.

You would have been flustered from anyone doing this with you, but the fact that it was big, scary Secondo somehow made it that much more intimate. It felt wrong in a way. Even with all the nights you’d shared, never had he done something like this. You’d never cuddled with him before. Hell, you had never even slept in his bed.

On the other hand, the fact that he usually wouldn’t do this but did as soon as he saw you upset touched you more than anything you would’ve ever expected from him.

Your tears made their grant return. You felt simultaneously safe in his arms, touched to your very soul, yet embarrassed by the further display of weakness. You tried your best to hold in your sobs, but utterly failed to be subtle.

“Go ahead,” Papa’s voice was soft and low, comforting, “It’s alright. I promise.”

That was all you needed to lose the small bit of composure you had. You cried into his chest, holding him tighter as you allowed yourself a release you’d been putting off for a while. A part of you still wanted to apologize automatically, but words failed you once again.

One of his big hands moved up to pet your hair, while the other drew calming circles on your back.

Secondo himself felt torn. Not on if he should be trying to comfort you, mind you. He was fully willing to give that his all. He had taken his oath to look after his flock and he would try his hardest to fulfil that role, especially since you were someone he knew better than most other siblings of sin.

There was a reason he’d shown up to fetch you himself, as opposed to sending a ghoul like he usually would. He knew that if you didn’t come to him at the agreed time, something was wrong. This had never happened before.

The problem was that he didn’t comfort people often and thus didn’t know if he was actually helping at all. People avoided him when it came to emotions, much preferring his brothers’ help in that department. The best he could do was try, he owed you that much.

“Do you… wish to talk about it?” It was good for you to make the decision by yourself right? Or was he supposed to make the choice so you wouldn’t get overwhelmed by it? Well, he’d rather ask directly instead of guessing and possibly getting it wrong.

You cried a few seconds longer before sitting up, straddling his hips. You wiped the back of your hand over your cheeks, “There’s not much to say,” You sniffled, looking down at the spot on his robes that had turned wet from your tears. You brushed your fingertips over it softly, “I’m sorry.”

It took him a moment to understand why you were apologizing before noticing the spot himself.

He sat up, motioning for you to get off of him. You surely thought he would leave this time. Of course he would after you damaged a priceless article of clothing. He didn’t always wear it, but probably had a lot of business to attend to today. No wonder he’d asked you to come over in the evening. That only made you feel worse.

Secondo got off of your bed, turning to you, “Do you have a clothing hanger in here?” He didn’t wait for an answer before removing his robe.

You fought the natural urge to freeze and cry again, instead getting up and speed walking towards your closet. You pulled out the first empty hanger you found. You walked back and held it out to him.

He studied it when he took it from you, “You should invest in wooden ones. Such weak plastic can alter the shape of your clothing.” He explained while still using the hanger for his robe. It barely fit and the plastic indeed seemed too frail to hold up the weight. It unceremoniously dropped to the floor, leaving him with the empty hanger dangling from his hand.

Secondo’s eyes followed it with a deadpan look, a sight you couldn’t help but laugh at softly. His head turned to you, face still serious but with a glint of humor in his eyes.

He carelessly dropped the hanger to the floor, then sat back down, leaning against the headboard as if to ignore your clear amusement at his previous struggle. He grabbed his cup of tea again and waited for you to rejoin him.

You quickly did, but not before admiring what he wore underneath the robe. It wasn't anything extravagant; a mere black undershirt and matching shorts and socks. Still, they showed off his arms and legs in a nice way. Looking up a little higher made you catch his gaze, looking perhaps more amused than you had just been.

“Are you going to stand there all night or join this old man?” His lips quirked into a subtle smirk.

It was an easy choice to make. You settled in next to him, grabbing your own cup of tea. You sat up straight but with your head leaning against his shoulder. His arm came around you to pull you in just a bit closer.

“I mean it when I say there isn’t much to talk about.” You explained, finally calm enough to get your brain to fire up the right words, “I messed up some paperwork and got scolded. I don’t know why it hit me so hard, it just did.”

Secondo shrugged, “Your feelings could have been a long time coming. Maybe today just wasn’t your day. Or perhaps there really wasn’t a deeper explanation. You don’t always need a reason to feel things.”

You took a sip of tea, it was just warm enough to still be enjoyed, “Well, you are the reason I feel better now. Thank you.” You smiled up at him and to your surprise he did it back.

“I’m glad.” The arm that was snaked around your shoulders moved up to pat your shoulder, then rested there, “I can stay if you’d like.”

The man seemed determined to subvert your expectations this evening. Still, it was an offer you couldn’t resist, “I’d like that.”

Before long you’d put your mugs in the sink and moved to brush your teeth. Secondo was next to you, removing his paints with some makeup wipes. It was such a simple moment, which somehow made it more significant.

When you mentioned wanting to shower, he gave you the space. A part of you had expected him to request to join you. You didn’t mind the little bit of distance, however, actually appreciating his willingness to be around you without the need for sex.

When you walked out, hair still moist, he patiently waited in his same spot on the bed. He had taken off his shorts, socks and gloves, deeming that appropriate to sleep in. It wasn’t too rare to spot him paintless if you paid attention throughout the abbey. Somehow seeing his bare hands felt the most scandalous.

He was under the covers already, holding it up as soon as he saw you as a means to beckon you to him. You joined him there in a heartbeat, enjoying his body heat as you once again laid with your head on his chest, one leg draped over his hips. Both his arms were curled around you, holding you in place. Usually the way he smelled was an extra factor experienced in a moment of passion, but now it served to aid in your comfort. You felt so thoroughly protected in his hold, like he would hunt down anyone bothering your peace.

It wasn’t some big romantic gesture to you, moreso a true act of caring. You felt seen, felt home in his arms.

As you started to feel yourself dozing off, he whispered to you in the dark, “If you ever feel this way again, for any reason at all, you come to me immediately. Alright?” The vibrations from his chest at his speech were calming but not distracting enough for you to not have heard him.

“Okidoki.” You whispered back with a yawn.

“Good. Now sleep, piccolina.” And you did, more comfortable than you had in ages.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

#how could I have possibly resisted using that picture as a banner?#not fully satisfied with this one BUT OH WELL #domestic december #the band ghost fanfiction #papa ii #the band ghost #papa emeritus secondo #ghost fanfiction #ghost bc #the band ghost fic

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not-neverland06 · 1 month

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we're dating? ♡

logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

One-shot A/N: I've decided using the same X-men name/powers for the reader in my Logan fics is easier because coming up with superpowers is hard and stupid. They call you flux, like once, it's really just a nickname incoming warning for fluff so bad you'll get a cavity Summary: You're on probation from the team and official house arrest after a little accident with your powers. Logan knows you're going stir-crazy so he takes you to the arcade for some fun. And then your friendship takes a weird turn. (80's timeline in mind, but characters not from the 80’s will be mentioned) Clueless!reader

You’d had an accident, a few weeks ago. Well, accident might be downplaying it too much. You’d destroyed the garden and left a ten-foot crater in the backyard of Charles’ prestigious grounds. In your defense, you had warned them all that it wasn’t a good idea to take your cuffs off.

The metal bands are entirely necessary to make sure you can’t lose control and wipe out everything around you. Manipulation at an atomic level is beyond fatal. You don’t want to think about what would have happened if you’d had the meltdown and the kids were anywhere near you.

Charles had been able to shut you down, but now he’s keeping you on probation. You’ve been locked up in the mansion, unable to leave until you managed to get your abilities under control. There’s never been a problem with wearing the cuffs before. You don’t understand why he’s so against them now.

You’re going stir-crazy. There’s only so many times you can pace your room before you start to lose your mind. He’s not even letting you teach classes anymore. You’re stuck training, all day, every day.

“Focus!” Charles snaps and you resist the urge to turn his bones liquid. Maybe that would get him off your back.

Instead of killing your friend, you glare at the large tank of water in front of you. You do what you’ve been doing for the past half hour. It fluctuates from liquid to gas to solid, and then liquid again. An endless cycle of repetition that makes you want to melt your brain so you don’t have to do this anymore.

You drop your hand and huff. “This is pointless, Charles. What’s this even teaching me?”

He crosses his arms, walks over to you, and pointedly glares at the tank in front of you. You roll your eyes and look back at it. “Shit,” you hiss. In your frustration, the glass has cracked and splintered into dust. Water pools around your stool and leaks through the wood of the floor. You flick your wrist, the glass swirling around you before reforming into the tank. The water follows along, droplets lifting from the floor and dropping back into the container.

“One moment of frustration, of distraction. That’s all it took.” Charles shakes his head and walks back over to his desk. He picks the cuffs up and you slip them silently back onto your wrists. “How can you be trusted to protect your team on the field if you can’t control this? What are you going to do when you’re panicked and fighting for your life?”

Shame bubbles in your gut. It makes you nauseous and forces your eyes to the floor so you don’t have to face him. He sighs, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing gently. You glance up at him briefly and he offers a strained smile.

“This is for your protection, as much as you hate it, Flux. It’s necessary.” You scoff at the use of your X-Men name. Not much of an X-Man if you’re not even on the field anymore.

“Right,” you mutter. “Thanks for the lesson in incompetency,” you don’t let him respond and slam the door to his office closed behind you. You feel bad the second you get outside and onto the porch. He doesn’t deserve your bitchiness. It’s your own fault you can’t get a handle on this. You don't have anyone to blame but yourself.

You let out a dramatic sigh, throwing yourself into a rocking chair and running your hands over your face. The once comforting weight of your cuffs is now oppressing. It just feels like a constant reminder of your failure. You should already have a handle on all of this, but you struggle to even manipulate water.

“Rough day?” You don’t open your eyes as Logan walks by. He takes a seat on the rocking chair beside you, letting out a low groan as he stretches.

You let your hands drop into your lap, staring at the sunset so you don’t have to face him. You’ve already dealt with enough dejection today. You don’t need to look at him and be reminded that you want him in a way you can never have.

“Mhm,” you hum, propping your head in your hand as you watch the sun disappear behind the clouds. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange that seem too hopeful for how you feel right now.

Logan chuckles, the sound low and gravely. It makes your heart stutter in your chest and you cringe in embarrassment. You know he can hear the way your heart practically beats free of your ribs when you’re around him. You’re sure with that nose of his he can smell some sort of hormonal change in you every time you lay eyes on him.

You swear you’ve never felt this way about a man before. You haven’t had many boyfriends before, it’s not really common among mutants. Not many people are accepting of you when they know what you are. And some people are too into you.

But you've had crushes, and none of them have been as bad as this one is. You want to gnaw on him. It sounds fucking insane every time you think about it. But when you train with him and he tears his shirt off, you want to sink your teeth into him and never let go.

You feel feral around him, a side of you surfacing that you’re not used to. Maybe it’s because of his mutant abilities. They are very animalistic, it’s easy to blame that on how desperately you crave him.

You hate being around him and despise not being in his presence. It’s conflicting, and more often than not you sound like a bumbling idiot when you speak to him because your brain is going in a million different directions.

You hear the familiar click of his lighter and then he shifts again. You risk a peek over at him and regret it the second you do. His head is tilted back, eyes closed in relaxation as he stretches across the porch. Smoke leaks out of his lips as he groans in satisfaction.

You have to pick your jaw up off the floor and make sure there isn’t drool on your chin. This is insane. You’re a grown woman, how does he have this much of an effect on you? He’s not even doing anything! He’s just sitting there and you want to jump his bones.

You whip your head around, mumbling incoherently to yourself to get it together. Logan peaks an eye open and you miss the mischievous tilt to his lips. “Something wrong?”

I need to have sex with you or I’m going to explode.

You stutter for a few seconds, getting your mind back together. “Just training with Charles,” you mutter.

He sits up a little straighter and quirks a brow. When you don’t continue he sighs. “And?” He prods, impatient for your answer. You hope you’re not reading into it, but you think he’s been as disappointed by your absence from the team as you are. He always complains about being partnered up with Scott. You like to think it’s because he misses you. But you’re probably just delusional.

“And, nothing,” you sigh. Your hands flop against your legs and you glare at the bands on your wrists. “No progress. I still can’t control them without these on, and my abilities are watered down and useless with the cuffs.”

Logan huffs, you’re caught off guard by the sudden warmth on your thigh. You glance down, eyes widening ever so slightly when you see his hand on your leg. It nearly covers the whole thing and when he squeezes your thigh you think you’re going to pass out.

You’re friendly. But you’ve never been touchy. At least not like this. The placement of his palm is very intimate and you are struggling not to just get on your knees and profess your undying love. You take in a deep breath, looking up at him so you can get your heartbeat under control.

But looking at him just makes it worse. Because there is so much faith and fondness in his gaze as he looks at you. His lips are tilted up, eyes soft, and you’ve never had someone make you feel so warm and secure from just a look.

“You aren’t useless,” he tells you. He squeezes your thigh again before he retreats back to his chair. You have to clamp your jaw shut so you don’t beg him to keep touching you and never stop. “You’re just stuck in this house all day. You’ve got nothing to do but sit in your failure.”

You scoff and throw yourself back in your seat. “Don’t remind me. I’ve begged Charles to let me out.” Your gaze drifts to the crater in the backyard. Some of the kids have been working on filling it in, but whatever energy you’d let go of has left a permanent mark. “He refuses to give me permission.”

Logan laughs, the noise teasing and a little mean. Your brows furrow and you glance over at him with a questioning look. He tilts his head in disbelief like you’re an idiot. “Seriously, Flux? Just fuckin’ leave, who gives a shit?”

“Uh,” you think on it for a minute before weakly settling on, “Charles?”

His face falls and you sink lower into your seat. He looks out at the yard, gaze distant. His jaw clenches a few times before he puts the cigar out on the ashtray beside him. He gets to his feet and you think he might just leave. Instead, he turns towards you.

You’re caught off guard by the little smirk on his face. “Wanna have some fun?”

Only an idiot would say no.

You grin and place your hand in his, yelping slightly at how easily he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his chest and are hesitant to back away when his hand drifts to rest on your waist. He looks down at you, smiling, he squeezes your waist once before he backs up.

“Come on, kid.” He tugs you inside the house, leading you downstairs to the garage. You already know what he’s going for before the door is even open.

“Didn’t Scott tell you to leave his bike alone?” Logan takes a step inside. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder and grinning at you. It makes your breath catch in your throat, the happiness on his face. You never see him like this around the others.

You hate thinking like that. Placing too much importance on your relationship with him will only lead to heartbreak down the road. But, you never see him act the way he does with you with anyone else.

“Since when have I ever listened to Cyclops, sweetheart?”

“Good point,” you mutter, moving to stand next to him.

He straddles the seat and looks over expectantly at you. “Don’t you need a helmet?”

You shake your head, “Oh, no, it’ll ruin my hair.” You laugh but he gives you a deadpan look. You don’t regenerate the way he does. An accident would be a lot more fatal for you than it would be for him. You huff, “Relax, Lo, I can use my powers.” When he looks like he’s not going to drop it, you let some energy swirl around your fingers. It solidifies the air around your skin, you reach up and flick at his skull hard enough to hear the metal ding.

He grunts, glaring down at your hand while you grin. “See,” you whisper, sliding onto the back of the bike and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m perfectly safe.” He shakes his head and starts the bike.

The ride to the arcade is spent in silence. Logan always seems to break every speeding law known to man whenever he takes Scott’s bike out. You’re not sure if he does it to purposefully piss the man off, but it makes you cling to him like a wild animal. You feel like if you hit one speed bump you’re going to go flying.

By the time he parks your legs feel like jello. He laughs a little at the way your face has blanched. Again, he offers you a hand and holds the door open to lead you inside. You’re trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this whole thing is odd.

You guys are friends. And you’re friendlier with each other than most of the mutants in the school. But this feels different somehow. For one, Logan kind of despises the arcade. It’s an amalgamation of bad smells and loud noises, and it overwhelms his already sensitive senses. You’ve heard him complain about the smell of body odor and fake cheese enough times when you went on a field trip with the kids.

Secondly, he’s being more touchy than he normally would. You’re not complaining. You weren’t exactly hugged a lot as a kid, mainly just passed between different mutant fetish clubs. Logan isn’t known for handing hugs out so easily. But right now, he doesn’t seem to be ready to not have at least one hand on you.

Maybe he’s just cheering you up. You need to stop drifting so far into your mind and just enjoy the night. “Alright, what’s first bub?”

You grin and drag him towards the claw machine. “I’m horrible at these things,” you inform him as you put your quarters in. “But, I hold out hope that one day I’ll be able to actually beat this monster.”

Three failed attempts later, it’s become embarrassingly clear that you will never beat the claw machine. Logan isn’t even trying to hide his amusement as you become increasingly more frustrated. There’s a certain point where this game stops being fun and starts to be an affront to your character.

Logan peers into the machine and asks, “What are you going for?”

“The pigeon,” you mutter. Your tongue pokes between your lips, and your eyes narrow in concentration. You aim the claw over the pigeon perfectly and slam your hand down on the big red button.

You’re allowed five seconds of celebration before the damn thing slips out of the claws grasp and tumbles into the pile of stuffies below. “Dammit, Bart,” you let the ridiculous name you’ve come up with for the toy slip.

Logan snorts, leaning against the glass while you jam another quarter in the slot. “Bart?” He teases.

You shake your head and give him a look out the side of your eye. “What, you think I call myself Flux because I’m good at coming up with names?” You give up after the last failed attempt and turn to face him with a huff.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Tough luck, kid.” He slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you towards the concession stand.

“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping lightly at his chest.

The rest of the night is nice. He doesn’t play much except for the strength-oriented games. And then you kind of just exploit him for more tickets. By the time you get back to the mansion, you’ve forgotten all about why you were upset in the first place.

Nothing had gone wrong, you didn’t have a total meltdown and wipe out the entire arcade. You don’t know why Charles was so afraid of letting you out.

Logan walks you back to your room, his hand heavy on your lower back as you head up the stairs. You’re talking endlessly, filling up any gap of silence with rambling you’ve lost track of. You don’t know what it is about him that invites you to yap the way you do, but you’re always embarrassed by it the second he leaves.

You reach your door and smile up at him. “Thanks, Lo.”

He gives you a soft smile, his eyes wrinkling endearingly at the corners. He reaches up and brushes some hair off your shoulder. There’s a certain shift in his expression that has your breath stopping short. Whatever else you were going to say to him tumbles off into an incomprehensible whisper.

He leans down and every inappropriate thought you’ve ever had about him suddenly surges to the front of your mind. Your lips part in anticipation, thinking he’s going to kiss you and your fantasies are going to come to life.

His lips brush against your cheek so gently you almost don’t feel them. “‘Night Flux,” he leans back and your body goes with him. He backs off with a smile, walking down the hall to his own room. You feel dazed, eyelashes fluttering rapidly as you fan your cheeks and try to come to terms with what just happened.

He didn’t kiss you, but you oddly aren’t disappointed. You go to bed that night with a lovesick grin on your face. Well, you would have. Were it not for the annoyingly British voice ringing out in your head, “Training’s at four tomorrow morning. Consider it your punishment for sneaking out.”

“Fuck,” you hiss to yourself. Stupid fucking telepaths.

You thought the arcade was a one-off moment. But Logan keeps sneaking you out of the mansion. Charles hasn’t officially lifted the house arrest, but he’s given up trying to keep you inside. Besides, you’ve essentially got a chaperone since Logan is always with you.

You make lunch for the two of you and he’ll take you out to the woods for a picnic. Or you’ll go to the movies together. Sometimes you don’t even do anything, just linger around each other. You enjoy the company, and you love having these quiet moments together with no one else around.

Your favorite part of all of this has to be the way he’s started touching you. He’s always got a hand on your leg or back. And if he can’t do that, then you’re tucked into his side. It’s feeding into a starved part of you that you’ve left neglected for far too long.

It’s only been about two weeks of these fun little adventures and odd behavior. You’re dreading the moment they’ll stop. You’re not sure when Logan’s going to deem you properly cheered up, but you’re hoping it’s not anytime soon.

There have been a few more moments where you think your friendship might turn into something more, and every time you’ve been interrupted. You’re actually starting to feel a little edged. You’ve been considering just grabbing him and planting one on him. But every time you think about it you get sick to your stomach.

You don’t want to make a move on him and end up getting rejected. You know he’s just being a good friend and taking care of you so you don’t end up spiraling too far in your head. It’s happened before, when you’ve been struggling with your abilities. He’s just keeping you from shutting down again and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable because you’re hopelessly in love.

When you walk out of your room this morning you’re immediately smacked in the face. “What the fuck, guys?” You yell at the two kids running past your room. Not the best language for someone who's supposed to be a role model. You can’t be bothered though, not when they’re running around throwing pink rolls of streamer at your face.

“Sorry!” Mary calls over her shoulder, laughing as she pins a heart up onto the wall. You’re sure Charles won’t appreciate the hole in his old ass mahogany wood. It’s only as you watch her run down the stairs that you register just what is going on.

There is pink and red everywhere. It looks like Dollar Store Cupid has thrown up all over the mansion. You’ve been so caught up in your attraction to Logan that, ironically, you’ve forgotten what month it was.

You grumble bitterly to yourself as you trudge down the stairs. Another Valentine’s Day alone and single. How lovely. You spot two kids giggling to themselves by the banister, they lean in like they’re going to kiss and you gag. “Hey!” You snap, and they jump apart, eyes wide with fear. “Quit it, get out of here.” They scramble off and you feel just a little bit vindicated.

“Not a fan of young love, Flux?”

You groan and roll your eyes, turning around to find a very smug Scott watching you bully teenagers. “Shut it, Summers,” you warn. You point an accusing finger at him and he raises his hands in surrender. Faux innocence played across his insufferable smirk. “When you’re in a committed relationship, you don’t get to judge me.”

His brows turn down in confusion, “Wait, but aren’t you and Logan-”

He’s cut off by the sound of a loud crash down the hall. You both turn around just as one of the classroom doors slams open. A bright pink explosion hurtles from the doors and a throng of coughing students follows.

Jubilee walks out a minute later, a guilty expression on her face. “Sorry, I was just trying to make it more Vanetine-y.”

You glance over at Scott, grinning widely at him while you pat his shoulder and walk past him, leaving him to clean up the mess. “Enjoy the young love, Summers.”

You actively avoid Logan all day. You’re already facing constant reminders of how lonely you are. You see kids walking around with baskets of bears and chocolates. Or you catch them passing notes in class with scribbled hearts all over the front.

There’s only so much a girl can take before she loses it. The last thing you need is to be faced with the man you have the worst unrequited crush on in history. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s everywhere you go, popping up around corners and trying to catch your attention.

You keep brushing him off and pretending like you have something urgent you’re going to be late for. Eventually, though, he was going to catch up with you.

It happens in the kitchen. Most of the kids are in their rooms or the library. The noise has died down and you’re alone. You grumble to yourself, ripping down a pink streamer that keeps drifting across the top of your head and pissing you off. You grab a frozen meal from the fridge and are about to microwave it when he speaks.

“Huh, thought you’d want something a little more romantic than a frozen burrito.”

You gasp, clutching your chest and whirling around on him while your heart races. “Logan, Jesus, you scared me.” He’s frowning at you, eyes glaring at the frozen package in your hand. “Um,” you toss it back in the freezer but the look on his face isn’t going away. “Yeah, I might just go with cereal instead.”

He looks at you and then glances behind him. You peer around his shoulder but you don’t see anything. Without much warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards the stairs. “Logan?” There’s no point in trying to resist him, he could just toss you up the stairs if he wanted to. Still, the silence is kind of creeping you out.

You call his name a few more times but give up when he makes it clear he’s not going to be answering you anytime. There’s a rotten feeling in your stomach. You have this awful idea like you’re in trouble for something. Like a little girl who's gotten her hand caught in the cookie jar too many times.

He stops you in front of his door and nods towards it. “You want me to go inside?” He crosses his arms and glares down at you. You huff and mutter, “Jesus, fine.” What the hell is wrong with him?

You grab the doorknob to his room, glaring at him while you do. You throw the door open dramatically, taking a step inside and surveying the area. “Wow,” you suck your teeth and shake your head. “You have not decorated at all.”

“Shut up, smartass,” he mutters in your ear. Chills prick at your skin from his proximity. A shudder goes down your spine as the low tone of his voice reverberates through you. “Look a little harder.”

You roll your eyes but acquiesce. Another run over the room finally shows you what you missed. You gasp and rush towards his bed, “Holy shit, Bart!” He chuckles behind you as you pick the stuffed pigeon up.

“Went back for him after we left,” Logan tells you.

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How many tries did this take you?” He mouths a smug one and you roll your eyes in irritation. You look back down at the pigeon and smile.

He smells like the inside of a claw machine. His head is sewed on crookedly and you’re pretty sure he’s missing an eye. But he’s absolutely perfect to you. You’re about to thank Logan when you spot something metal wrapped around the stuffie’s neck. “What’s this,” you mumble to yourself.

You slide your fingers under the chain and tug it off Bart’s neck. Logan’s dog tags dangle off your fingers and you stare at him in shock. A sudden cold dread washes over you and you find yourself immobile. “Logan,” you trail off, an unspoken question following his name.

He smirks, walking towards you and slipping the tags out of your hand. “I wanted you to have this,” he says, his voice low like this moment is too precious to break, “so you know you’re not alone. You’re always so afraid of what’s going to happen if you lose control out in the field. But you forget, you’re not alone. You have me, you’re always going to have me.” He places the tags over your neck, untucking your hair from the chain.

You don’t even have words for him. It’s such a deeply personal gift. But this also feels incredibly intimate. There’s no possible way for you to reason this away. This isn’t something “just friends” do.

He seems to prefer your silence, anyway. One of his hands drifts from your neck and cups your jaw. With the utmost tenderness, he lifts your face to his. “Wanted to do this for a while,” he whispers. You almost ask what he’s talking about, but his lips are already covering yours.

It’s incredibly soft, this kiss, softer than you’re used to. He’s barely putting any pressure on you and it makes you realize that you’re still not moving. You’re just standing there in shock, eyes wide open while the man you’ve wanted since you’ve known him kisses you.

You drop Bart to the floor and your arms come up to twine around his neck. You finally close your eyes, let your body melt into his knowing he’ll catch you. The second you reciprocate he really kisses you. Neither of you hold back, each of you pouring all the pent-up desire you’ve felt for each other.

You’ve spent so long dancing around this, around each other. It’s like a missing puzzle piece is returned to you as Logan holds you. You feel full, complete, warmer than you ever have before.

You part from him - needing air - painfully slow. You don’t want to spend a second away from him now that you have him. You wish you didn’t have to breathe. Wished you could have kept kissing him and never stopped.

Logan chuckles, pressing a kiss against your forehead like he can read your thoughts. You can feel the dorky smile that’s about to split your cheeks. You bite your lip, hoping it might suppress it, but you know it’s pointless.

You look up at him with a cheeky twinkle in your eye. “Are you asking me to be your Valentine, Lo?”

He scoffs and pulls away from you slightly. “Do you have to ask your girlfriend to be your Valentine?”

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens and closes rapidly. “I- Well- I mean,” you take a full step back from him and shake your head. “What?” You finally settle on. “I mean, I’m not objecting, at all, but what?”

Logan tilts his head, a disbelieving look on his face. “What do you think we’ve been doing the past three weeks?”

You shake your head, stuttering and struggling for an answer. “I don’t know. I thought you were being a good friend!”

He smiles, there’s no irritation on his face at your cluelessness. If anything he seems to be more endeared to you. “You think I take all my friends on romantic picnics in the woods?”

You sigh, letting out a long disappointed breath. You can’t believe you’ve been so blind. When you think about it, his behavior lately makes a lot more sense. You’re not sure how you were able to trick yourself for so long.

“Well,” you start, walking back towards him as he pulls you into a hug, “certainly not Scott.” He huffs and shakes his head. You give him a sheepish smile, brows knitted together. “I can’t believe we’ve been dating this whole time.”

He just presses another kiss to your temple and shrugs. “It’s alright, sweetheart, you can make it up to me by being my Valentine again next year.”

There’s something unspoken in his voice. A promise that he’s planning to be around for a lot longer than a year. You smile at him, silently promising the same. “Only if you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

a/n: i’m gonna gag actually. Made myself cringe there at the end. I want a valentine next year so bad, it’s sad. But what’s the point of a valentine if it’s not going to be Logan?

dividers by @/thecutestgrotto

#wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #x men #x men x you #deadpool and wolverine

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