"You know you're practically a senior citizen now."
Gojo's head whips around, insulted at the idea of being called old. Sure he's got white hair but he's just turned 16, not 61.
"You're only a year younger than me, y'know. You'll be 16 soon too." He grins
Gojo grins as you roll your eyes next to him.
"At least I don't have white hair already." You point out
"Whatever, at least I'm not two inches tall." Gojo laughs, resting an elbow on your head.
"I'm still growing!" You defend, angry at the idea of staying the same height forever. "Get your ugly arm off me!"
"I'll have you know my arm is gorgeous," Gojo says, blue eyes catching the sunlight as he easily matches your pace.
"Mmhmm." You roll your eyes
To keep it simple, Satoru Gojo got under your skin. Perhaps it was that annoying smile or maybe the fact that your clan notoriously hated his. All you knew was that he drove you insane and you wished he'd just disappear so he could never bother you again.
"Where is everyone? I thought we agreed to meet here at 4," Gojo whined next to you.
"Worried your boyfriend stood you up?" You tease. thinking of the dark-haired boy who was usually joined to Gojo's hip most days.
"Suguru would never do that to me." Gojo smiles, unwrapping a lollipop he had stuffed in his pocket.
"I dunno, what if he finally got sick of you, Gojo?" You say, knowing it was impossible.
A soft ding interrupts your conversation with the boy and Gojo fishes his phone out of his pocket.
"HA! Told you he'd never stand me up!"
Gojo's phone is obnoxiously close to your face as he prompts you to read his chat with Geto.
On our way. Nanami needed to be convinced.
Another ding sounds and a picture of your fellow first years pops up Haibara is dragging Nanami down the sidewalk by his arms.
"Idiots." You murmur
"I see that smile! You got a crush on Nanamin?" Gojo's voice fills your ears as his pointer finger pokes at your face
"Piss off, Gojo." You groan "I hope one of Geto's curses eat you."
April 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 15)
"You totally just cheated!" You accuse the blonde across from you
"Have you considered that you're just terrible at Jenga?" Nanami asked
"Have you considered that you just moved the table during my turn so you'd win and not me!" You groan
"It's just Jenga, Zenin. We can just start over." Haibara points out
"Not with a cheater playing." You roll your eyes
Haibara smiles as he begins to pick up the fallen blocks from the floor. You had been on edge for a few days now and your temper was beginning to get a bit out of hand. He had asked Nanami what he thought was the matter and the two of them had come to the conclusion that it had to do with your visit with the head of the Zenin clan.
"That's enough for today. I'm going to take a nap." Nanami declares
"Ugh, what a party pooper." Haibara teases, elbowing you.
"In case you forgot, Zenin here did me the favor of hitting me hard enough that I nearly passed out today in training." Nanami reminds the two of you.
Ah right, that. You had gone a bit too hard today sparring with Nanami.
"Oh, I forgot about that," Haibara says
"Yes. You should let Zenin get some rest. Her technique is draining, she's said so herself.
Sure, Phantom wasn't exactly easy to pull off but you wanted to keep playing. You wanted to kick Nanami's ass in Jenga.
"Alright. Let's eat dinner together tonight though. I have these awesome cookies in my room you'll both like." Haibara declares before following Nanami out of your room.
Perhaps Nanami was correct, a nap did sound enjoyable right now. A quick nap and then maybe you'd cook something to share with the boys tonight. Perhaps a couple of rice balls or maybe some chicken.
No sooner had you gotten comfortable under your blankets that your door swung open and Gojo was running into your room, Geto close on his heels.
"Satoru, you should always knock on a girl's door before barging in." Geto scolds his friend for you.
"It's fine, Suguru. It's not like she's getting changed or anything." Gojo grins looking down at you who had remained buried under your covers.
"And what if I was?" You scowl from your blankets
"I would've screamed in horror and asked Suguru to exorcise you." Gojo says flashing that oddly charming smile of his.
You're sure he could get away with murder if he just flashed those pearly whites.
You ignore the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as you sit up.
"I was about to take a nap but I guess it can wait." You say
"A nap? What are you four?" Gojo teases
"Yeah probably." You agree
"Not everyone is as energetic as you are Satoru." Geto reminded the white haired boy
"Yeah, what Geto said. Not everyone is a walking ball of energy." You say
Geto had always been your favorite of Jujutsu High's strongest duo. He didn't call you short or try to steal your food. Or maybe it was his long hair that seemed to always look better than yours.
Plus then there was that time Gojo snuck into your room to try and shave your eyebrows off. Sometimes you swore the elders of the Gojo clan were sending the six eyes user after you on purpose.
"Whatever, loser." Gojo said trying to reach and mess up your hair.
"Would you stop that! I'm not a child!" You groan
"Then why're you the size of one?" Gojo laughs
Even Geto laughed at that one as you shove Gojo out of the way.
"Why are you two even here? Can't you go bother Shoko for once?" You ask
"Shoko said you've been in a bad mood the past few days." Geto started
"So we've come to cheer you up!" Gojo finished
You watched wide-eyed as Gojo dumped the bag he was holding onto your bed. Every possible sweet fell out accompanied by different DVDs.
"For the record, I told him it was too much candy but he didn't listen," Geto says as Gojo riffles through the movie choices.
One DVD case catches your eye as Gojo argues with Geto about his sugar choices.
"Are you a Rachel McAdams fan, Gojo?" You ask as you hold up Mean Girls.
"Duh." Gojo grins before swiping the case from your hand to pop it into the player you had
"Raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by Regina George."
"Y'know you're kinda like Regina, Satoru," Geto says observing the movie.
Gojo looked at you for an answer but was met with you asleep next to him, head resting on one of those massive stuffed animals you kept. You're drooling a bit and he can't help but think that you're a bit cute like this.
He reaches to shake you awake, determined to get your opinion on whether or not he is like a spoiled teenage girl.
"Let her rest. I heard that her and the other first years went pretty hard today training. Nanami took a big blow to the head from her using her technique." Geto stopped his best friend
"I wish she'd show me her technique. She explained it to me once but I still don't get it." Gojo huffed
"I'm pretty sure Phantom just multiplies her and then she closes the distance with her real body. I watched her use it on Haibara a few months ago." Geto explains
"Whatever...I still want to see it with my own eyes." Gojo declared
The TV hummed softly as they sat in silence while Regina George got hit by a bus after rushing out of her school.
"Why do you think she's been in such a bad mood recently? I heard her yelling about Jenga earlier." Geto asked
"I'm not entirely sure but I think it probably has to do with Nabito Zenin." Gojo said "His archaic way of doing things is probably upsetting her. I heard that she had some meeting with him recently."
Geto lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment.
"Nabito is probably trying to stick her in some arranged marriage. I wouldn't be surprised if it was with his own brat, Naoya." Gojo elaborates
"You know a lot about the Zenin Clan, Satoru," Geto points out
"Well the last Six Eyes and Infinity user was killed by one of them, so I think I'm entitled to a little knowledge. " Gojo defends
"Yeah, yeah. Maybe you should try to be a little nicer to her though, especially if you know what might be going on with her clan." Geto suggests
"I'm perfectly nice." He defends
"Yesterday you said you were going to shave her head in her sleep because she ate one of your french fries."
"I was joking!"
November 2006 (Gojo: 16 You: 16)
"Happy Birthday, Zenin!" Haibara called "Have fun with your family!"
You smiled and waved at Haibara and Nanami as you got into the car that had been sent to pick you up.
Fun. This trip would be anything but fun.
Snow was falling as you entered your childhood home. The soft scent of lavender filled your nose and calmed your nerves.
"You're back! I'm still cooking!" Your mother exclaimed as she emerged from the kitchen
"Yeah, there wasn't much traffic." You reply, trying to release yourself from her bone-crushing hug. Seriously with her strength, she'd probably be able to exercise curses.
"Go wash up. Your father will be back soon and he is bringing Nabito-san and his son." Your mother says
Dinner is quiet. Or rather you're quiet next to your mother while Nabito and your father discuss something about cursed techniques and something about Toji Zenin's kid.
"Your face is plain." the boy across from you suddenly says
Your mother momentarily freezes but quickly regains her composure.
"Yes well, sometimes plain features are best. Just think you wouldn't want every man looking at your wife." Your mother says
Did she just agree to you being plain featured? You looked like her for crying out loud!
"Whatever," Naoya mumbled before shoving more rice into his mouth.
What a pig.
You're not entirely sure why it's happening. Perhaps it was the dinner with Naoya that had your brain going crazy. But ever since you got back from your parents' home you can't stop staring at Gojo. Was it because he represented everything your clan hated? Or maybe it was because he was insufferably annoying? Whatever the reason, you swore he was drawing you in.
"You should stop staring. You might put a hole in his head." Shoko says
"I wasn't-"
"Don't lie to me." Shoko smiles knowingly
You definitely weren't staring at Satoru Gojo. Nope. Not in a million years. And you definitely didn't get butterflies whenever he looked your way. That would be ridiculously, ridiculous.
August 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)
"I don't get why I wasn't assigned with you two. I mean we're always going on missions together." You grumble
"They probably need you to help Gojo train more. Your technique is perfect for him to strengthen his Six Eyes, Zenin." Haibara points out
"It's just a grade two. We'll be back before sundown." Nanami assures
"Yeah, then we can watch a movie and get fat off popcorn," Haibara says
"I'm choosing tonight. I don't want to watch another Pirates of the Caribbean movie." Nanami declares
"But Jack Sparrow is so sexy!" You groan
Haibara laughs in agreement with you.
"See you later, Zenin! I can't wait to bully Nanami into watching Pirates of the Caribbean with you tonight!" Haibara declares
See you later, Zenin!
See you later.
You should've gotten into that damn car with them. Your technique was better than both of theirs. Maybe if you had...just maybe you wouldn't be staring down at half of your friend.
Geto was next to you, looking down at his body, He was silent, long hair blocking his face from you.
Nanami sat behind you, a damp cloth over his eyes.
"You need to rest for now, Nanami," Geto suggests, his soft voice filling the silence.
"Damn it. I should've gone with you two." You say, your voice dripping in regret.
"You could've gotten killed too, Zenin." Nanami sighs, his voice is tight like he's holding back tears.
A soft summer breeze blows through your hair as you sit on a bench. You had left Geto and Nanami with Haibara, not wanting to see the bloody sheet he was under anymore.
"Hey."
You glance up from where you had been picking at your nails, willing yourself to hold it together.
Gojo stood over you, hand stretched out with a piece of candy in it.
"I heard what happened." He said sitting next to you as you unwrapped the candy and popped it in your mouth.
"You wanna talk about it?" Gojo asked
"Not really." You sighed
"You don't seem too sad," Gojo said quietly
"I think I will be...later on. Once I'm alone." You say
"Yeah, me too." He replied.
Silence enveloped the two of you as you focused on the taste of the candy in your mouth.
"I gave you the green apple. It's my least favorite." Gojo said
"Thanks." You reply
September 2007 (Gojo: 17 You: 16)
In accordance with Jujutsu regulations, Geto Suguru is sentenced to death.
For once in his life Gojo Satoru is not buzzing around you like an excited puppy. You can see him, sitting alone on the steps of Jujutsu High.
The deaths of 112 people including his own parents rests on Geto's hands. You couldn't believe it when Nanami read the report to you. But now, seeing Gojo alone confirmed it.
You don't know what you're going to say to Gojo as you approach him. What do you say to the person who's just lost their best friend to a life of being a curse user?
"I know you're lurking back there," Gojo says
Damn it.
"I wanted to give you this." You mumble tossing him a lollipop before sitting next to him, probably a bit too close for someone who swore you weren't interested in him.
Gojo softly smiles and accepts the candy.
"Did he say what he wants to do next?" You ask
"He wants to exterminate all non-sorcerers from the world," Gojo says
An unattainable goal.
"That's impossible." You say
"That won't stop him." Gojo points out
A soft weight taps you and the sweet scent of Satoru Gojo's shampoo fills your nose as he rests his head on your shoulder.
"I'm sure you'll see him again. Even if it's not for a long time, you'll talk to each other again." You assure him.
"Yeah, I hope so," Gojo admits
His voice is a whisper in the breeze, a prayer for the future.
Christmas 2009 (Gojo: 20 You: 19)
"You have to stay quiet, Gojo!" You groan looking at your friend next to you
"This costume is so itchy though! The beard is gonna make my skin all red!" He whines
"Suck it up." You command
Gojo lets out another groan but helps you finish arranging the copious amounts of gifts he had ended up buying for Megumi and Tsumiki.
"Alright, it's perfect. Now go stand next to the tree."
Gojo listens to you and lets out a huff of embarrassment when you snap his picture.
"That better be for your eyes only." He says
"Oh definitely don't worry about it." You brush him off before quickly sending the picture off to Nanami and Shoko. They're sure to get a kick out of it.
"Remind me why I asked you to help with these brats again," Gojo says as he notices you sending his picture.
"Cuz' these brats would be dead if you were the only one watching them, Gojo." You say
"I'm a great caregiver." He says
"You wanted to get Megumi a pink tutu for Christmas." You say
"He would've looked great!" Gojo defends
"He would've set his Demon Dogs after you." You say
"Would not."
"Would too."
"Would not!'
"Would too!"
"What's going on?"
You and Gojo stop your bickering to see sleepy-eyed children hovering on the steps, dark hair out of place and a frizzy mess atop their little heads.
"Santa and I were just arguing about what cookie is best!" You grin
"That's not Santa. That's Gojo in that costume you ordered off Amazon last week." Megumi points out. "I saw the order details on your laptop."
Who the hell does this kid think he is?
"What? No! This is the real Santa from the North Pole!" You scramble
"Megumi, just go with it!" Tsumiki whispers to her little brother, "They obviously don't know Santa's not real!"
Is it a crime to toss a child out a window?
"The jig is up!" Gojo declares beside you as he rips off his fake beard. "Now let's get to the real fun stuff! Mistletoe!"
Gojo grabs a sprig of mistletoe from between the couch cushions. Curse him and his hiding spots.
"Pucker up, hot stuff!" Gojo says as he reaches for you and wraps an arm around your waist to pull you close.
"Gross." You say pushing his face away from you, you hope he can't see how red you are.
Why the hell was he like this? The past few months Gojo had been all over you. Be it flirty gestures or just plain Gojo weirdness, he was consuming every bit of you and you weren't sure if it was a bad thing.
"You're blushing," Megumi says
"Aha! I knew you wanted a kiss from me!" Gojo exclaims chasing after you as you try to escape up the stairs.
Seriously, is it a crime to toss a kid out a window?
March 2011 (Gojo: 21 You: 20)
The harsh slam of the front door wakes Gojo from the peace that had taken over the house. Megumi and Tsumiki had gone to bed and he was kicked back on the sofa, face mask on and Harry Potter was running on TV.
"I'm going to seriously kill that asshole one day." You groan as you rummage through the fridge
"I take it the meeting with Naoya didn't go well," Gojo said
"Didn't go well is the understatement of the millennium." You groan sitting down next to him a slice of cold pizza in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
"Tell me about it," Gojo says pulling your feet into his lap.
He listens to you vent about your "fiance" and how annoying he is. Naoya wants you to cut your hair a certain way and to stop wearing the color red. Apparently, you also need to start wearing lipstick now according to the man as well.
"Honestly I hope he gets hit by a bus tomorrow." You groan "And what the hell is wrong with my hair?"
"Nothing. I think it suits you nicely." Gojo smiles, knowing it's true. You're as pretty as a picture even when you're mad at the world.
"Thanks." You sigh "That wasn't the worst of it though"
"Oh? What else did the scumbag say this time?" Gojo asked, genuinely curious
"Well beyond my appearance, he asked if I was still a virgin today." You say
"Are you?"
"Ow!" Gojo yelps as he rubs his arm where you punched him
"Yeah, I am you idiot!" You seethe, placing your wine and half-eaten pizza on the coffee table, "He's only asking cuz' he found out that I'm spending time around you and I guess he's worried about impurity."
"We're just friends," Gojo says "Besides who cares if a girl's slept with someone before? I know I wouldn't."
His words feel like glue in his mouth. Can you tell he wants to be more than friends?
"I know that, and you know that. But he must think I'm whoring myself out to you in exchange for a place to live." You say sadly
Gojo can sense that Naoya's words are under your skin and bouncing around in that pretty head of yours. A head that should only be filled with the happiest of thoughts, preferably ones with him in it.
"Hey, forget about him. It's none of his business what company you keep and what you look like." He assures, reaching his arms out to pull you into his side.
"He's technically my fiance y'know." You sigh as you let him reposition your body so your head rests on his chest. "I'm supposed to want to please him since he's a man."
There's that stupid Zenin clan mindset, that Gojo can't stand.
"Screw that! Pleasing someone just cuz they're a guy is so 200 years ago." He says
"Tell me about it." You groan
"I could just send a hollow purple his way if you want." Gojo suggests, fully serious "Just a small one. It would be the perfect way to get rid of him."
"And what? Start a full-on war between two ancient clans over me?" You laugh
"Of course," Gojo confirms, pulling you closer to him
To him, you're worth starting a thousand wars if it means you'll finally let him be by your side all the time.
"By the way, is that a charcoal mask?" You ask
"Yup. Got it from the mall today, gotta stay hot for the single ladies out there."
"Gojo?"
"Yeah?"
"You're a really weird guy."
December 2011 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)
"We have to stay quiet, 'gumi." The girl reminds her little brother
"What's the point? How do we even know they'll like this?" He asked
"Who wouldn't enjoy breakfast in bed?" Tsumiki asked
She had a point.
"Yeah, but Gojo and Zenin don't even sleep in the same room. So are we surprising them separately?" Megumi asked as he poured orange juice into cups, he didn't think he had the balance to make it up the stairs with a tray of food.
"Nope! I checked Gojo's room before I woke you up. They're in his room together. I think she had a nightmare or something last night." Tsumiki says, "And we're not supposed to call her Zenin, remember? She said we could just use her first name."
"Oh, right," Megumi says
The couple? No, friends? Whatever they were, the two individuals that had taken him and his sister in were odd. Megumi was sure that Gojo was insane or maybe missing a piece of his brain. Just the other day Gojo had dangled him out the window for asking why he owned pink underwear as a 22-year-old. It was a genuine question on Megumi's part. As for you, you were definitely his favorite. You didn't try to dangle him out windows or mess up his hair, and most importantly you didn't constantly ask about his cursed technique.
Gojo was definitely the more annoying out of the two of you. How you put up with him was a mystery to Megumi. Tsumiki had once said that there was a "budding romance" between Gojo and You. Megumi thought she was reading too many of those romance books you bought her. Of course, he understood why she was saying that. You and Gojo were clearly close to each other, not to mention sometimes you even slept in each other's bedrooms. And then of course there's the many times when you're cooking and Gojo would wrap his arms around you from behind.
Alright, fine maybe Tsumiki was right about the romance.
"Alright, they're done. What do you think?" Tsumiki asks as she places two plates of something on the tray that sits in front of him.
"What are they?" He asks
"They're pancakes." Tsumiki blinked at Megumi as though it was obvious
"Right, of course." Megumi didn't want to make her angry, after all the last time they got in a fight Tsumiki pulled his hair so hard he swore he was partly bald in that spot for months.
"Ok lets go. You get the silverware and the drinks." She says
Gojo's bedroom is so dark, that Megumi nearly trips on his own feet as he blindly follows his sister.
Tsumiki carefully set the tray of food on the desk that was covered in various papers and candy wrappers. Why was Gojo such a slob? Tsumiki pulls the curtains open so the morning light can invade the space.
Megumi carefully observes the pair in bed. Gojo's arm is wrapped securely around you and your head rests on his chest. Megumi finds himself wondering if his father and mother were ever like this. Not that it matters since he can't even remember either of them.
"Surprise!" Tsumiki shouts and Gojo's eyes fly open
"Whaaats going on?" You ask groggily
"We made breakfast!" Tsumiki smiles placing the tray in front of the two adults.
"I have orange juice." Megumi mumbles
"Oh wow!" You smile, rubbing at your eyes, and immediately sit up.
"What is it?" Gojo asks, white hair messier than usual.
Megumi knew it wasn't obvious that they were pancakes.
"Pancakes of course!" You smile at them and Megumi doesn't miss how you pinch Gojo and whisper "be nice" to the white-haired man.
"They have blueberries in them," Megumi says
Gojo's face falls at the idea of a breakfast lacking sugar.
"And chocolate chips." Tsumiki chimes in
Gojo's face is all smiles again as he cuts into the food.
"How is it?" His sister eagerly asks
"It's wonderful. Delicious. Thank you, Tsumiki and Megumi." You compliment
A wide smile breaks out across his sister's face and she grabs Megumi by the arm.
"Alright, we'll let you two eat in peace then." She smiles, practically skipping out of the room.
Just before Megumi closes the door, hushed voices reach his ears.
"Can I spit this out now? I don't think it's edible." Gojo asks
"I think mine has some eggshell in it." You reply
Hushed laughter follows and Megumi smiles to himself. Sure, the two of you were crazy but he wouldn't trade it for the world.
February 2012 (Gojo: 22 You: 21)
Gojo was sure he was actually insane. What the hell was he thinking buying this for you?
The ruby red box felt like a lead weight in his pocket as he approached you while you were slicing vegetables for tonight's supper. Maybe he shouldn't do this while you had a knife in your hand. What if you stabbed him? Well, his infinity would catch it, but still.
"Can I uh...talk to you?" He asked, well...no going back now
"Yeah, what's up?" You ask
"Can I talk to you without the knife in your hand?" He asks
"Satoru Gojo what did you do?" You accuse, immediately focusing on you
"Nothing! Why do you assume I did something?!" He cries
"Because the last time you started a sentence with "without the knife in your hand" You had encouraged Megumi to fight his school bully and then you got a call that Megumi punched a girl two years younger than him." You say
Oh right. He forgot about that.
"Alright well, no children were harmed this time. Now put the knife down." He said
You listen and he takes a big breath, he's going to need all the oxygen for this one.
"Look it might be stupid and I know Valentine's Day was last week but I got you something and I wanted to give it to you. I've actually had it since December but I keep chickening out" He explained fishing the box out of his pocket
"If that's an engagement ring I'll get the knife back out." You say eying him suspiciously.
"What? No! That would be crazy." Gojo laughs, he can feel his face burning. Fuck...he must be bright red.
"Alright good." You say taking the box
Gojo fidgets with the string that's sticking out of the sleeve of his shirt as you look at what he's done.
"Do you uh like it?" He asked
"I do. Why'd you get it for me?" You ask
Wasn't it obvious? He'd buy the whole universe for you if he could.
"You really don't have any idea?" He asks
"No...I don't." You say
Your face is relaxed, you're definitely not lying to him. You seriously have no idea that he's totally obsessed with you!
"Are you gonna say it? I still have to cut some carrots up." You sigh
Gojo lets out a noise that's so insane sounding he swears he got possessed by some evil spirit.
"I got it cuz' I thought it'd look great on you!" The words are coming out of his mouth like vomit, " And I really uh...uhm...I like you."
The last bit is so quiet he's sure you didn't hear it.
"Wow did I just get a shoujo romance confession from the Satoru Gojo himself?" You tease as his gaze remains fixed on his feet.
"Whatever. If you don't want it I'll take it back tomorrow." He grumbled
Silence falls over the two of you like a blanket and Gojo wishes he could bury himself alive. Of course, she's making fun of you! She's engaged! She's been engaged since she was 15! One necklace won't change that! Sure, her fiance was a total buttwipe but still...
"Satoru,"
His first name coming from your lips for the first time ever has his gaze snapping back up. He wishes that you'd say his name like that forever.
"I'm only teasing you. I like you too. I have for a while." You admit
"How long is a while?" He prods, suddenly filled with confidence
"None of your business, mister. Are you going to help me put this on?" You gesture to the box
Gojo is as gentle as he can be as he clips the necklace behind your neck.
"How do I look?" You ask
"Perfect." He smiles and pulls you towards him.
"I smell, Satoru. I haven't gotten to shower yet and I exrocsied a curse at a school earlier." You softly say
"Mmm, you smell good to me." Gojo says "You're always absolutely perfect. And now you're all mine."
An elated giggle leaves his body as he finally gets to kiss you for the first time. If only his 17-year-old self could see him now.
"That's disgusting."
You jump away from him and he wishes you hadn't.
"Megumi, how was school?" You ask and Gojo doesn't miss the way you're obviously flustered.
"It was good. Until I came home to see that." He says
"Well get used to it cuz' you'll be seeing a lot more of it." Gojo grins as he pulls you towards him and tosses an arm around your shoulders.
"She's all mine now, little man. You're not allowed to give her a Valentine's Day card ever again!"
"Satoru, stop that!"
"So are you two finally dating?" Tsumiki asked hopefully
"Course' we are. You don't come home to two people sucking face and expect them not to be officially a couple."
Gojo deserves the punch to the stomach you give him before resuming your vegetable cutting.
here are all of my favorite logan fics! i will continue to add to this as i read more. as always, any smut is marked with a *. please go support these talented writers!
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
i’m down on my knees, i wanna take you there by @thebestandworstdayofjune
guess by @bpmiranda *
my girl by @imaginedisish *
sugar, sugar and come on and show me by @eupheme *
a peaceful repose by @d1stalker
i don’t know why i bite by @not-neverland06
night rides w/old man logan by @eufezco *
guard dog by @ovaryacted *
dig your claws right into me , can’t get started , and make him do what i say by @dollfacefantasy *
easing by @yesimwriting
the honda odyssey by @coweye *
white hot forever by @eddies-ashtray *
diet pepsi by @flowersforbucky *
time after time by @hyper-fixates *
the art of make believe matrimony by @gothgoblinbabe
If One's Different, One's Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic
Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Chapter Warnings: violence, cussing, lewd comments/thoughts, lots of angst
Many months passed and it took you a while to become semi-comfrortable living at the school. The first few weeks were completely overwhelming. You spent half your time in your room, needing space from the voices, the scents, the people.
You did not teach at first, Charles allowing you to grow accustomed to school and being in civilization again. Your days consisted of you using the combat training room and prepping lesson plans for teaching - something you found yourself terrible to do.
You could easily teach the kids how to defend themselves and harness their powers. You did it yourself so many years ago. But deciding what books to read and why was proving to be difficult.
The bright side of living at the school was that you were able to find friendship in Ororo. The two of you ate dinner together everyday, yourself not being much of a morning person. You were able to eat with some conversation, though never going too deep. You learned that she taught an elective of multicultural studies and discovered her mutations when she was only nine years old.
Another bright side was that Charles allowed you to frequent the woods in the surrounding area when you needed a break from others. You were able to fully be yourself, not keen on showing the students the full capability of your mutation yet.
Soon, you felt comfortable enough and found it ridiculous that you were nervous to teach. You were surprisingly good and due to your love of literature and ability to read people, you were able to plan lessons that the kids actually enjoyed. They always seemed to be engaged in your classes and had deep thoughts about whatever book you were reading.
When it came to combat training, the kids actually respected you, though some were even scared of you. You figured to throw caution to the wind and started day one with explaining your mutation and letting the kids who felt comfortable to do so too. You explained to them how it was important to have confidence and embrace their abilities. To not be afraid or ashamed of them.
In addition to being the resident doctor, Jean also taught biology courses and was dating mister stoic, Scott. The cyclops taught geometry and continued to annoy you to no end.
A year into living in the school, Charles pulled you into his office one day. He explained how he and some of the faculty are what he deemed the “X-Men”. How they scout for other students or adults to join their school, as well as take down any threats, mutant or not.
So that became your life for the next three years, joining Scott, Ororo, and Jean on missions to find other recruits. Sometimes Charles would send you and Ororo on solo missions, knowing that you’ve gotten your hands dirty in the past and had no qualms doing so in the future.
You weren’t offended by that notion. You were confident in yourself and not ashamed of your past. If these people could accept you despite it, you could accept yourself. You were happy to be the go-to mutant to take down any enemies - especially when it meant helping kids who needed it.
You were able to get more comfortable around others, Charles helping you explain the concept of ‘putting up a wall’ in your mind. The wall allowed you to limit the increased stimuli your instincts constantly gathered.
The next three years of our life you were content. You may have even considered yourself happy.
Until a man you never thought you’d see again showed up.
And he didn’t remember you.
You just got back from a solo-mission, your aim to gather intel on a mutant named Magento and his brotherhood of mutants. His right hand man, another mutant similar to a Sabertooth was spotted and Charles sent you to do some scouting. Your skill of adaptability comes in handy.
But as soon as you entered the school, Charles’ voice entered your head.
“Y/N, come to my office, it’s urgent.”
Odd, as the man rarely enters without your permission, you quickly made your way to that destination. You passed Ororo and Scott on the way, both looking weary but not speaking a word to you. You reached Charle’s office and knocked, waiting for a response.
“Come in,” his voice sounded and you did as he said.
You entered and froze at seeing a man from your past. There, standing in Charle’s office was Logan. Was the Wolverine. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and sweatshirt, ones that definitely did not fit him.
Your eyes gaze over him, noting how his build seems larger than before if possible. The sweatshirt was zipped halfway, showing off his brown chest hair that you missed so much. His shoulders are broader, arms more defined. You finally reach his face and a gasp leaves your mouth. You can’t help it.
He looked the exact same as all those years ago. His jaw is lined with stubble, longer than you've seen it before. His hair was longer as well, the tufts on either side more pronounced then you’ve ever seen.
You take a deep breath to inhale the scent you missed so much. Smokey like a cigar, a splash of whiskey, something that you always defined solely as Logan. Only there’s something else.
Something different.
When your gaze finally meets the rich brown you’ve been dreaming about, there is no softness like you expected. No look of trust and warmth. No recognition.
Instead, they were filled with distrust and confusion.
You felt like you were stabbed through the heart.
“I know this is Logan, and you knew him in the past.,” Charles’ voice starts in your head. “But I’ve looked into his head and he has no memory of you. In fact, he has no memory of anything past ten years ago.”
You give a stubble nod, showing Charles you understand. You swallow a lump in your throat but do your best to remain professional.
“Miss. Y/L/N. I’d like you to meet Logan.” Charles begins introductions, gesturing to Logan with one hand. He brought a teenager here and will be staying for the time being to help us assist against Magento. We think the girl, Rogue, is wanted by Magneto.” Charles begins to explain before turning his attention to Logan. “Logan, this is Professor Y/N. She teaches English Literature and helps out with Combat Training. In addition, she is a member of the X-Men and one of my most trusted companions.”
That’s news to you.
“Y/N, I was hoping you could give Logan a tour and show him where he will be staying for the time being.” Charles finishes.
“Um.” You hesitate before clearing your throat. “Of course.”
No. You do not want to be around this Logan. This is not your Logan. This is someone entirely different. Someone who had to have gone through something similar to you to not have his memories. To smell different.
“Wonderful! I’ll leave you two to it.” Charles finishes, dismissing the both of you.
You look to Logan, motioning with your head for him to follow you at the door. The man looks at you with distrust before sighing and doing so. You close the door to Charles' office, stopping to turn to the man you used to know.
“Sorry about Charles or any of the other people you met already. While they’re also mutants, they don’t get people like us.” You say quietly, knowing he’ll hear you.
“Us?” He questions, eyebrow arched.
His voice, too, is the same it was all those years ago. Rough and husky that sends a feeling throughout your entire body. You shake that thought and send him a sly smirk. You raise your right hand, growing your claws on it and flashing your sharp teeth.
“Us.” You say.
Logan raises an eyebrow in surprise at this. You wonder if you’re still the only female mutant like him he's met before - except he doesn’t recognize you so he’s now meeting you for the first time. You watch as his gaze travels down your body, as if assessing you for the first time. His mistrust seems to grow in you as his eyes narrow. You should have expected that, with what happened during your first meeting and all. A feral with another feral could lead to someone getting their throat ripped out.
“Shall we begin the tour?” You don’t wait for a response, turning on your heels and walking down the hall.
…
The tour ends with you bringing Logan to his assigned room, the one right across from yours. Lucky you. You open the door and step in, throwing your hands up and spinning around the room.
“And this is where you will be staying. You got a bed, dresser, nightstand, closet, and private bathroom.”
You watch as Logan steps into the room, looking around and taking it in. He was quiet throughout the tour but you could tell he had questions. That he was observing and reading you, waiting for a moment to escape or attack if he needed to. The two of you were still so similar. His personality was exactly as you remembered it. Confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant. You just wished he remembered you.
“I’ll leave you to it.” You give a tight lipped smile and go to leave, passing him as you do so.
His arm grabs yours, stopping you. Unlike the last time you first met though, his claws don’t come out and pierce you. He merely grabs you and turns you to face him.
Goosebumps arise on your skin as this is the first time you’ve been touched by him in so many years. You hope he doesn’t notice the reaction he gets from you. The increase of your breathing and heartbeat. The slight blush you’re sure you’re wearing.
Your gaze goes from his eyes, to his hand, then back to his eyes. He immediately lets go, his face almost looking apologetic before he stops himself.
“How did you end up here?” He asks after a moment of silence, as if he’s waited the whole day to ask. “How can you stand being here?” He shakes his head, as if he can't fathom being around all these people.
You let out a chuckle.
“I couldn’t stand it. Not at first. I’ve lived my whole life alone,” You stretch the truth “enjoying the comfort of it. Charles found me and I was hesitant at first. But, I realized I could be the person I needed years ago. It’s been a good few years for me since I came here.” You reveal, not wanting to say too much.
Not wanting to say how much you missed him. Or how you’d wait for him to show up on your front porch. Or ask what he’s been up to. Or what has happened to him to not remember things.
“And they don’t care that you’ve -”
You cut him off. “Killed people?” You shake your head. “No. If anything it gives them an excuse not to get their hands dirty.”
Logan stares at you, as if pondering your answer. You don’t give him time to explain, stepping halfway at the door.
“I’ll leave you to get settled. During your stay, if you need booze, you won't find it here. Charles doesn’t allow it in common areas due to the kids around. But feel free to knock on my door. I have lots of beer and whiskey.” You shoot him a smile.
You cross the hall and unlock your own door, not looking back and closing it. You then lean against it and slide down to the ground, silently letting your tears fall.
…
The next morning, you cry again. You can’t help it. Everything you imagined happening to Logan the past years, this wasn’t it.
You always assumed he was out there searching for you too. That the two of you would eventually find eachother again and simply missed each other in passing every so often.
You never expected this.
You’re currently sitting in med bay with Ororo, Scott, and Charles. Jean ran tests on Logan, examining his mutation and performed a full body scan - all similar to your own when you first arrived. The results startled you. All his bones have been coated with a metal called Adamantium. It was surgically grafted into his entire skeleton.
That explains the change in his scent.
Jean explained how his mutation is the reason he survived the surgery. His regeneration capability allowed him to heal rapidly. Jean added how determining his age could be impossible because of this. His was very similar to your own mutation, she added.
Ironic that you’ve been dying to know the similarities between you two all those years ago. Yet you find out the worst way imaginable.
“Who did this to him?” Scott questions, voicing everyone's thoughts.
“He doesn’t know.” You speak up before Jean can. “And I bet he doesn’t remember everything about his life before it happened.”
All four of your companions look at you, surprised at your knowledge.
“That’s correct.” Jeans confirms. “How do you know that?”
You look to Charles for guidance. You weren’t sure if you should reveal that you’ve met Logan before. That his name was James and he had a brother named Victor. That he enjoyed whiskey on the rocks and added too much salt to his steak. That he smoked cigars in bed and was a blanket hog.
“Share what you’d like. We won’t tell him.” Charles promises, getting nods from the others.
You swallow, trying to form words to discuss a past you’ve long since tried to forget. “I haven’t seen him in many years..” You start. “I met him in the 50s, and we ran into each other for the next ten years or so. He went off to Vietnam and got tangled with some people but we found eachother again.” You close your eyes, remembering the day like it was yesterday. “We lived peacefully for six years. We were… normal. Until one day, I was captured and we saw each other for the last time.” You finish, keeping it short and concise.
“You guys ran into each other or you guys ran into each other?” Ororo questions from your right.
You shake your head at the woman, knowing what her thoughts are. You couldn’t blame her. Logan looked just as appetizing fifteen years later.
“You trust him?” Jean questions, asking you curiously.
You can tell she wants to dive into your mind. To figure out Logans past from you and try to work through how to help him. That’s how Jean is, you've come to learn. Always wanting to solve the next puzzle.
You sigh, thinking of that question before finding your answer. “Back then, our roles were reversed. I was more feral, more likely to get into a fight or kill someone. I hated being around anyone and solely followed my instincts. He was the calm one. He had no qualms ignoring his instincts. Now though, although his personality is the same, he’s definitely not the man I knew back then. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, he’ll still have good morals. ”
Which was the truth. Even when you saw Logan at his worst, he knew right from wrong.
There’s silence again, everyone taking in your answer. They knew of your past and didn’t think any differently. But they weren’t sure about a stranger in the school full of teens. A stranger that solely trusted his animalistic instincts with indestructible metal throughout his entire body.
You had to add the part about his morals. That was the very first thing you admired about him. He always seemed to not want to cause harm, cause destruction. He always seemed to want to make the right choice.
“Experimentation on mutants. It’s not unheard of but I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Charles breaks the silence.
“What do you think Magneto wants with him?” Scott questions.
“I’m not entirely sure it’s what Magneto wants.” Charles reveals.
…
Later that day, you follow Jean into the exam room where Logan sits upon the table. He’s back to wearing the great sweatshirt and sweatpants and looks up as you too enter.
“So?” He asks, seeming to ignore your presence.
“The metal is throughout your entire skeletal system, as expected.” Jean informs him.
He snorts, as if to say ‘I told you so’. His eyes take you in as they did last night. Only this time they only hold curiosity. You guess that's a step up from mistrust.
“So why are we here again? You people got your pictures.” He tells you.
“With my abilities, I might be able to grab a memory and see it.” Jean simply explains to him. The two of you make your way towards the man, you behind him while Jean is in front. His gaze solely focuses on you, as if he poses you as the bigger threat and doesn’t want his back to be turned.
“And you brought the English Lit teacher because?” Logan questions, not turning to look at the doctor.
“It might hurt and I probably rival your strength the best here.” You smile snarkily, wanting to smack the condescending look off his face.
“Whatever you think bub.” He states.
You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, looking to see if Jean is ready. The woman nods and you place both of your hands on either of his shoulders. You squeeze and press down with your strength, smirking slightly at the way Logan tenses. If he was going to be a dick to you without even knowing you, then you were going to be a bitch back.
“Ready?” Jean asks, raising her hands to both his temples but not touching him.
You feel Logan take a deep breath and you assume he closes his eyes before Jean does the same. His body immediately tenses up and you take a guess that he probably would have moved if you weren't holding him, You watch as Jean's eyes flutter back and forth beneath her eyelids as she tries to uncover any memory. Not even thirty seconds later, Jean’s hands are removed and Logan relaxes.
“What did you see?” He asks her.
You watch as Jean stares at him before saying, “Scott.”
You turn to the door and see the man standing there. Jeans doesn’t answer Logan's question and bids you both goodnight, Leaving the two of you alone.
“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow, tough guy.” You tease before walking out of the room and leaving him alone.
…
You wake to a shout. You immediately rush out of bed, dressed in sleep shorts and a t-shirt that's seen better days. You open your door and look up and down the hallway, seeing no one there. You start to head back to your room before you hear another shout, realizing it’s coming from Logan’s room.
Throwing caution to the wind, you enter his room and quickly shut the door to find him thrashing around on his bed. You slowly walk closer, knowing how to be silent, and look over him as he has what you assume is a nightmare.
Sweat litters his brow and shirtless torso, his eyes moving under his eyelids. He continues to thrash, his head moving side to side as another shout escapes him. You can’t bear the thought of him going through this.
“Logan.” you whisper, body standing on the left side of his bed. “Logan.” You say a little louder.
It does nothing to wake him and he continues to dream, body moving more as if it’s becoming worse. Sighing, you lean forward with your left hand, reaching down to touch his left shoulder. Before you can touch him though, he awakes.
“Arrghh!” He exclaims, a schilt noise heard before you feel metal pierce your body.
“Fuck!” You shout in pain, feeling your breath catch in your throat, guessing that a lung or both have been punctured.
You begin to gasp for breath, feeling as you open your mouth but nothing will enter it and make it to your lungs. You E/C eyes match dark brown and you see a now awake Logan staring up at you, eyes filled with concern.
“Help me.” Logan says. “Somebody help!” He screams as you continue to struggle for breath.
For some reason, your body is taking longer than usual to heal and you don’t like that thought one bit. You’ve survived so much in your long life. Bullets, Animals. Other mutants. Knives. You are damned if the man you used to love is the one that kills you.
Willing your body to cooperate and heal, you raise a hand to one of the wounds and grow our own claws. You then dig them in, and it seems to snap your body out of shock, starting to heel. It’s at that moment the light flickers on and you turn to see Scott, Jean, and Ororo enter the room, children standing in the hallway.
“What happened, are you okay?” Ororo asks, immediately rushing to your side along with Jean while Scott tries to block the kids.
“Yeah. I just startled him and got to close. His claws got me.” You explaining, looking at both the concerned women and smiling lightly.
“Then why did he scream for help?” Jean questions, lifting your shirt to see where the wounds should be, already gone and healed.
“I don’t think my brain registered what happened. My healing didn’t trigger right away so I sped up the process.” You explained.
“Healing?” Logan questions from behind.
Suddenly remembering you’re in his room and have an audience, you glance up at Scott and the kids, addressing everyone except the man seated on the bed behind you.
“I’m okay. We’re okay.” You start. “Everyone back to bed. You have class in the morning.”
Some of the kids groan, probably excited that they saw more action tonight than they have throughout all of their combat training. You look to Ororo and Jean and say,
“I’m okay, promise.”
They both search your face for a moment, looking for any signs of a lie. But since you’ve known them, you’ve been evasive yes but never lied to them, furthering their trust of you. They seem to believe you, both nodding before turning around and leaving the room. Ororo shoots you a small smile before closing the door so you’re now alone with Logan.
You turn and look at the stranger wearing the familiar face. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, his face full of concern and staring at you. His gaze still seems to continue to roam your body, as if not believing you’re okay.
Even though he doesn’t remember you, you remember him. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You walk closer to him, his gaze never leaving. You gesture with your hand to the seat on his left, silently asking if you can have a seat there.
He nods, turning his head to look at you. You take the seat and lick your lips and sigh before starting to speak. “When I said you and I are alike, I wasn’t lying. Your mutation is similar to that of the Wolverine animal. Mine is similar to a Jackal.”
Reconfizition immediately fills his face. You hope, for one second, it’s a memory. Maybe you were in his dream. Or maybe, be some stroke of luck, he’s remembering you and all your times together. But that’s not what happens.
“I’ve heard of you,” He starts, his voice gruff. “A mutant that relies solely on their instincts. Known for hunting down dangerous mutants.”
You smile slightly at that. “That’s me.”
“But I’ve heard about them existing in the mid 1900s. You don’t look like you're 80.” Logan says, his eyes moving across your face, as if observing if your true ability is to simply disguise your age.
“Hence how we’re alike so much. I was born in 1895. I have regenerative abilities that cause me to age slowly. And also heal quickly.” You inform him by gesturing to your healed wounds.
His gaze travels down, able to see your stomach through the holes in your shirt - which you have no qualms about. He has seen you naked before - memory or not.
“Have we ever, I mean,” Logan pauses, as if searching for how to ask a question. “If I’m as old as Jean thinks I am, and you're as old as you are, have we ever met before?”
His voice is hopeful, as if you can be the answer to his lost memory. You immediately think of what could possibly go wrong if you tell him the truth. You certainly don't think it would jog his memory. If anything he could possibly look at you with pity if you tell him everything. How you guys got to know each other and all it entailed.
You sigh though. You don’t want to lie to the man. You decide honesty with some hidden truth is the best option.
“Our paths crossed over forty years ago. We ran into each other a few times after.. Just shared about our experiences as mutants.”
Surprise and relief covers his face. You wish you could be fully transparent, you really do. But you know it wouldn’t be fair to him. He’s essentially a new person, he has a chance to start over. Forget all the wrong he did and maybe do some good.
“What was I like?” He questions and you knew it was coming.
“Exactly the same.” Your reveal. “Confident but not cocky. Smart but not arrogant.” You leave the explanation at that, not wanting to dive deeper into how he's the same person but now has a chance to do different things. “Can I ask a question?” You try to change the subject.
Logan sighs, as if knowing you were going to. Since Jean revealed his adamantium skeleton, one question has been on your mind.
“When your claws come out, do they hurt?” You needed to know. Needed to know if what he went through continues to torture him everyday.
If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic
Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Chapter Warnings: Angst, cussing, brief discussion medical malpractice
You searched for Logan after you escaped the facility. All Canadian territories then all the rural states of America. You searched for months, for years. Soon, it was five years since your capture and every day you had some hope that you’d find him again.
It eventually felt like forever since you saw him and had slowly come to accept that he was going to be like everyone who came into your life. A fleeting moment for a few years that turned into just a memory. As that’s how it went when you’re a mutant with a long life span.
So you tried to forget about him and his soft lips and muscular build. His smoky scent and dark brown eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite grasp. The way he entered you and made you feel almost loved, normal. You tried to forget.
But it was hard.
Especially when you were sleeping. You used to love it, how you’d dream of him when he was at war and wake up remembering your time together. But now your dreams taunt you and your nightmares are worse. Your dreams are memories and made up scenarios of moments with Logan.
The two of you are hunting together. The two of you are cooking dinner. The two of you in bed. Sometimes there’s a child in there, those ones wake you up in tears.
Others are memories of your month in the facility. Strapped to the table, needles poking you, and someone prying in your most intimate part. Those ones wake you up in bouts of anger, claws grown and sheets shredded.
You went about the next ten years of your life as you did before meeting the two brothers. It was almost easy to fall back into your old routine. Never expecting to run into someone you know or another mutant. You continued traveling across the United States and Canada. Finding secluded cabins and routinely buying supplies then simply living off the land and animals around you as you did once before.
You decided perhaps this was how your life was supposed to be. That you were meant to move around and be alone forever.
Your personal library continued to grow in size, having over 200 books now. Their genres ranged from science fiction, to romance, to poetry, to historical nonfiction. But you still had your favorite. Only it became your favorite for perhaps a totally different reason.
So, you easily fell back into your old ways, trying to keep James in a locked part of your mind. Your days were back to reading, occasionally stealing, sometimes killing another mutant who was dangerous and looking for a fight. You accepted a life alone was truly meant for you.
You are currently living outside Montreal, enjoying the sunlight as it shined down on your skin. You were renting a small cabin on a campground for the month. It was a little closer to civilization then you liked but nature for some reason always called to you. You weren’t able to hunt as you would’ve liked, in fear of being seen, but were still able to be alone and read, occasionally taking a dip in the lake if you wanted.
The food in the local restaurants were also really good. A rare burger or steak always called to you and for some reason, people in the town knew the perfect way to cook it.
So that’s where you were now, face buried in a burger with a side of fries and of course whiskey your drink of choice. Not that you were an alcoholic as it took almost triple the amount of a non mutant to get your drunk.
You were currently reading 1984 by George Orwell. It was surprisingly your first time reading it and you were enjoying it thus far - it’s themes similar to Brave New World. For some reason your favorite book choices tend to reflect the same world you lived in.
“Ah. 1984. ‘Where there is equality, there is sanity’. A great read in my opinion.” A man’s voice sounded suddenly.
Only the words weren’t said aloud. No, they were said from inside your head. Tensing, you put your book down and immediately glanced around your area. You didn’t see anyone in sight but did pick up three scents that you didn’t recall smelling when you moved in. You assumed they were intruders and couldn’t be your neighbors.
You stood, lunch and book now forgotten. Your claws grew to reveal themselves and you scanned the area again, trying to see through the foliage for who you assumed were three mutants.
And with your history, you didn’t want to bet that they were friendly.
“You can put them away. We mean you no harm.” The voice sounded in your head again.
“Yeah, how ‘bout you show yourselves and I be the judge of that ,asshole.” You thought back at it, itching for a fight.
Ever since your capture, you were more paranoid, more inclined to trust your instincts. You got too complacent, too happy the years you lived with James. You realize your instincts are the only thing you can truly trust.
Suddenly, the sound of leaves crunching and twigs snapping sound from your right and you turned to see three adults make their way through the woods.
One was a women. She was dressed in black pants and a jean jacket. Her hair was gray, though she looked to be the same age your body appeared. Another was a man, who for some reason looked familiar. Then it clicked. It was the same man that was there the day you escaped the facility. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel. He was wearing sunglasses again that had red tints rather than the black, his hands stuffed into his front pockets. He too looked to be around your age.
The final man was older, perhaps pushing 70. He was bald and dressed odd for an outing in the woods as he was wearing a suit. He had no hair and appeared kind with a smile on his face, as if he held all the secrets in the world. He was also in a wheelchair, using a power control on his right to push forward.
“Hello Y/N.” The old man said as the three came to a stop about ten feet in front of you.
“The fuck are you?” You questioned, noting that this was the same voice from inside your head.
You did a quick scan of the area, always having an escape plan and an attack plan ready if needed.
“You do not need to escape or attack. We merely would like to talk.” The old man added.
“Stay the fuck out of my head old man.” You growled menacingly, not liking how he could read your thoughts one bit.
“Understood.” He began. “I’m sorry to have intruded. But I did not want us to startle you.”
“Who are you? Why are you here,” you asked, nodding at the three.
Why are three mutants, and by their scents, with completely different mutations, together?
“Ah, yes. Introductions. My name is Charles Xavier and this is Ororo Monroe and I believe you may have recognized Scott Summers.” The man gestured with his hand to his respective companions.
“Well, thank you for getting me out of that shit hole but it doesn't explain why you’re here.” You state, wanting him to get to the point.
“It’s a bit difficult to explain but I know you’re aware we three are like you. We -“
“I’ll stop you right there old man.” You interrupt, holding up a clawed hand. “Only met two others who are like me, and no offense, you guys aren’t.”
Charles nods. “My apologies. You are correct, our mutation is not like yours. However, we do have our own unique set of abilities. As you’ve already been exposed to, I acquire the ability of telepathy and can speak inside another’s mind.”
“Congratulations.” You say sarcastically. “You can go now.” You point to the way they came.
“This is a waste of time Charles.” The man to his left speaks up. “She didn’t wannna come ten years ago and she sure as hell won’t come now.”
You turn your attention to him and you notice how he smells a little of fear. As if he knows who you are and what your capable of. You smile at that thought. It seems he’s done some research on you since your last meeting.
Charles ignored the man, Scott, and continues. “With telepathy, I can also reach out and find other mutants. After Scott informed me of you, I’ve been searching for you. Although, I can only pick up those within a few hundred miles radius. A few days ago, I found you.”
“You're saying you’ve been inside my head, just poking around for the last few days!” You question, voice beginning to raise and anger starting to enter you.
You can’t even begin to think what Charles has seen in your head. The lives you’ve taken. The few you’ve saved. The moments between you and James.
These people are definitely bad news.
“We are not bad news.” Charles states.
You go to yell again, irritated that he once again entered your head. However, you don’t get the chance as the woman finally speaks.
“We run a school.” She reveals, your eyes meeting hers and seeing no threat, no violence. Only concern and sincerity. “We recruit children who are mutants like us. We teach them regular classes that normal kids go to, as well as others that help them learn to control and grow their abilities. Sometimes, a few of us go out on missions and help those in danger.”
You take a moment at that, listening to her heartbeat to determine if she is truthful. You only hear the steady beat. You notice how her respiration is also steady and there’s no sweat - all the simple signs of being deceitful.
“Again, congratulations.” You start. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
“Simple. We want to recruit you.” Charles says simply, a smile on his face.
You laugh. You can’t help it. You’ve never been around people more than a few days in ten years and here comes three lunatics who apprently want you to attend their school. Maybe you’d have said yes before everything happened, but you cannot imagine being surrounded by so many people. Your life is insane.
“Recruit me?” You ask incredulously. “Sorry but I’ve been out of school for about, hmmm, 70 years.”
“Not as a student, but as a teacher.” Ororo corrects a small smile on her face as if she saw your laughter amusing.
You laugh again. These people have got to be on soemthing.
“If you’ve been in my head the past few days like you claim to have been” you point at Charles, “Then you know I hate being around people. You know that-“
“You get territorial. That you can easily blend into your environment? That you have 207 books in your own personal library - most that you did not obtain legally? That your favorite book is Brave New World and that you enjoy hunting for your own food and occasionally taking out what you deem ‘assholes who shouldn’t be on Earth’?”
You gape. You can’t help it. You guess this guy has been in your head. You grimace at what he may have seen.
“Just, give us time to explain a little more. Maybe visit the school. If you want nothing to do with it after - that’s okay. We won’t bother you again.” Charles proposes.
You swallow, thinking this through. While you do not know what the other two’s abilities are, you’re confident you can take them if the need arises. They seem sincere. Well, maybe not Scott but Charles and Ororo do.
If they want you to teach there, maybe this is your opportunity to finally understand the world. Why non-mutants hold so much hatred. Maybe you’d actually be able to learn how to handle being around other people- how to not be lonely.
With all these thoughts in mind, you nod.
…
The moment you visited Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters you said yes to teaching there.
You couldn’t explain it, but the school was different than anyplace you’ve ever been. Maybe it was because it was place solely for mutants. Maybe because you realized you could be yourself without the threat of revealing yourself. Maybe because it made you feel less alone.
You didn’t have someone there to guide you when you discovered your mutation. You didn’t have someone to explain your mutation. To help you through all the differences you had compared to the average human. You realized you could make a difference at the school. Being there for kids just like how you wanted someone to be there for you.
Charles, or old man as you continued to call him, only fondly, offered you to teach English and Literature, as well as assist with combat training due to your skill in that field. You agreed, excited for the opportunity to share your love of literature with younger minds.
You were given your own room, which was connected to a private bathroom. You brought the minimal items you owned with you, as well as all 207 books from your personal library. Due to the room size, your books were brought into your classroom, with the exception of some that you kept in your nightstand and a bookshelf in your room.
There was a communicable mess hall for meals, as well as a kitchen that everyone had access to at any time during the day. In addition, faculty had access to all classrooms if needed as well as the combat room.
You learned that Scott’s mutation was the cause of him wearing sunglasses 24/7. He was able basically shoot lasers from his eyes. Apprently the sunglasses prevented that from happening.
Ororo’s mutation was interesting to you, as it was soemthing you never thought possible. She has the ability to manipulate the weather and atmosphere. She could call a snowstorm at hand, a lightening strike, or even tornado.
You made a note to yourself to never piss her off.
The one thing you bregudebly relented to was a physical exam by Dr. Jean Grey. Charles informed you that at any moment you could stop the exam and nothing further would be done.
But you wanted to do it. For some reason you trusted Charles and he trusted Jean so you allowed the exam to happen.
Jean was a women that appeared a few years younger then you. She was tall, with fair skin and long red shit. She was a strong telepath that thankfully didn't invade your mind, understanding the invasion of privacy.
She was completely professional throughout the whole thing. Quickly drawing your blood, listening to your heart, and asking you to show off your mutation. She completed a gyno exam, gave you a full body CT scan - the school was super rich cause you have no idea how they could afford one - and an ultrasound.
All that was the during the first week of your stay and found you where you are now: seated in what they call the review room, listening as Jean explains her findings with Ororo and Charles present.
You did not like Scott, and did not want that man present to hear what you’ve been through. He seemed to have a superiority complex and you’d rather claw your own eyes out than have him know what was done to you.
You sit in front of a large screen, your body scans on view. You have no idea what you’re looking l at or what the numbers on the screen mean. Ororo is seated to your left with Charles in his wheelchair on your right.
Jean stands in front of you all, an electronic tablet in her hand - soemthing you didn’t even know existed. Again, this school is rich.
“From my results, I was able to hypothesize a few things that may have happened while you were held for a month.” Jean starts, having you on the edge of your feet.
“Is it safe to assume that once your mutation revealed itself, you never got sick” she questions, looking to you.
You nod as it’s the truth. You’ve never had the common cold, seasonal allergies, or the stomach bug.
“I’m assuming they injected you with multiple viruses to see how your body would react. I myself did that with one blood sample and a known strain of measles. When I combined the two, your cells immediately attacked the stain and eradicated it in mere seconds.
When comparing you to the average human or even mutants blood, you have a significant amount of neutrophils - a type of white blood cell - that fights of the infection. Typically that causes an average person to become sick, but your mutation produces it naturally to fight of any infection.”
You nod again. You don’t know much of biology but Jean at least explain it in laments terms so you can understand.
“As for your healing ability, which I’m also assuming they tested, works basically a hundreds times faster then soemone without your mutation. The level of neutrophils lends a hand to this but you also have high levels of fibroblasts and macrophages - cells responsible for the beginning and end of the healing process.”
You’re in awe. Since you’ve discovered you were a mutant, you always wanted to learn how. How anything you do is possible. That’s why you would always bug James about his own as they were so similar. Now though, you’re finally learning all you can.
“You also have a large number of keratinocyes, which allow your nails to grow at the rate and length they do into claws. When it comes to your teeth, you have an increase in all the cells responsible for growing and protecting them. I believe that is why yours are able to sharpen at will and are as indestructible as you described.”
You smile at hearing that. While you always tended to slice someone's throat with your claws, your teeth were your best asset. You shared with Jean how easy it was for you to tear into someone’s throat with them - namely dick Vic as you’ve begun to call him in your head. You got a laugh form Jean at those stories.
“One thing I did find, however,” Jean pauses, frowning slightly as she looks at her device.
Your heart starts to hammer in your chest and you feel Ororo grab your hand. You have no idea what she’s going to say but know it’s going to be bad. Why else would she have paused.
“However what?” You quesiton, one of your legs starting to bounce up and down in anxiety.
“I think it’s best we discuss this privately.” Jean’s voice is suddenly in your head.
You nod your consent, staring ahead and she informs Charles and Ororo that she wishes to speak about the last matter with you alone. Charles shoots you a look you see out of the corner of your eye before leaving.
Ororo gives your hand one last squeeze before rising from her seat and following Charles out. Suddenly it’s just you and Jean and you suddenly get nervous when she takes a seat next to you.
“You informed me during our exam that you have not gotten your period since your mutation revealed itself, correct?”
You don’t like where this is going. You nod.
Jean continues. “With some of the tests I did, as well as the gyno exam, you’re in perfect, healthy condition for soemone who is also your age. Ignoring the mutation.”
“But?” You question, searching Jeans eyes for what’s she’s going to say next.
“But, on average people who are your age have about 80,000 eggs available for fertilization. You have half that.” Jean reveals.
“Are you saying I can’t have kids?” You stand, running a hand through your hair. “I mean I never imagined having kids.” You start to rant, beginning to pace the small room. “But I mean, I did think of it once with one guy but that was almost a life time ago. I mean I-“
“Y/N” Jean starts, stopping your rambling. She’s now stood up and is facing you, hands on either shoulder. “I’m not saying you cannot have kids.”
You let out a breath. You didn’t expect that possibility to rattle you but it did. Maybe, somewhere deep down, you’re still holding on for Logan to turn up. For you to return to your cabin in the Canadian Rockies and actually have little runts of your own.
“Then what are you saying?” You ask weakly, having never felt this nervous before.
“You told me you remebred waking up once, when you were first at the facility, correct?”
You nod.
“And that there was a doctor, or someone, between your legs, and they made a comment about how they were surprised you weren’t with child?”
You nod again.
Jean sighs, leading you back to your chair. She sits down and grabs your hands in hers. You’ve only known her a week but have never seen her this worried, this emphatic. She’s usually all business, all serious.
“I believe that, based on my findings, during your month at the facility, they were extracting your eggs from your oaveries.”
You feel your entire body freeze. Extracting your eggs. Extracting your eggs. Taking something you have that can create life, from you.
“But only men can pass down the mutation gene.” You state, confused.
Jean nods sympathetically. “Correct but, you are a rare mutant. Not many posses an animal like mutation, specially one as feral as yours. I think -“ Jean cuts her self off.
“You think what?” You question harshly.
Jean sighs. “I believe they may have taken your eggs, which are from a strong, rare female mutant, and planned to see if they could find traces of the X-gene. And if that failed..”
Jean trails off but you’re able to figure it out. If they were unsuccedul with that, they still had eggs with your genetics. Eggs that can be mixed with a male mutants sperm and injected into some poor girls uterus. Thus engineering a mutant child they would have complete controls over.
“I - I need some time alone to process this.” You say, rising from your feet and quickly leaving the room, ignoring as Jean calls out after you.
You quickly move throughout the mansion, your room your destination in mind. You push past Scott who tries to stop you; an Ororo that looked concerned, and many teenage mutants who simply looked confused.
You finally resached your room and slammed your door shut, locking it. You rested your forehead against it, body rising and fall as your breath increased. Your mind whirling at all the possibilities of what they could have done or still be doing to your eggs filling it.
You let out a frustrated scream, right arm reaching and sending all the objects on your desk flying. Not quit satisfied at the damage, you made quick work of the small bookshelf in the corner, knocking it over with a growl.
At this point, your mutation is on full display, teeth grown and claws long. You let out another rgrowl and make a fist, sending it flying through the wall that is shared with your bathroom, your hand going through it.
Suddenly, a bang is heard and you look up to see Scott and Ororo standing there, the man having kicked it in. You turn your body towards them, growling lowly and ready for a fight.
Scott takes a step toward you, and you mimic him, ready to take him out of you need to. You watch as Ororo places her hand on his shoulder to stop him. She says something to him but your mind is still whirling you cannot comprehend what.
Your mind is solely relying on all your instincts. The human part of you is not able to cope with this discovery and has backed itself into a hole in your mind, allowing your animal side to deal with it.
And it’s dealing with it aggressively.
You watch as he sighs and nods before exiting; leaving you with the other women.
“Y/N.” She says, voice calm and low, as if talking to a scared animal.
You guess that’s what you are right now. Your instincts have taken full control of your body and kill and maim is the only action that seems to be what it wants. You want to make those suffer who hurt you. You want to slowly run your claws along every one of their arteries, watching them bleed. Then, you’d bite into their throat and take out a chunk.
“Y/N!” Ororo says, this time more stern.
It seems to gather your attention a little more, gaze shooting up to meet here eyes. They only show concern, soemthing you’ve only ever seen from one other person. Seeing them from her, it does soemthing inside of you and you break.
Your animal side seems to notice it too as soon your claws are gone and teeth back to normal. Tears immediately begin to leave your eyes and the women crosses the room to enlope you into her arms, pulling you into a hug. Your body immediately relaxes as you let out a sob.
You finally found out what happened to you but now you have to cope with it.
If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fanfic
Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4
Chapter Warnings: Violence, cutting, mentions of sex but no smut, ANGST, brief mention of rape but no details/descriptions
Word Count: 3.5k+
A/N: We’ve finally reached a movie!!!! This chapter doesn’t have much dialogue but moves the plot along!
It’s been years since your intimate night with James. You recall it having been 1965 or ‘66 when you two finally gave into your instincts, sharing that night together.
He left a few days later, leaving to join the Vietnam war with Victor. It made you feel weird. You felt different knowing you wouldn’t run in to him. That you wouldn’t move and see him randomly in the woods, or at a gas station, or a bar.
Rather than dwelling on that thought for long, you fell back into a your old routine. Moving every 3 months, hunting for food, and reading. Only this time, you had soemthing to look forward to - the end of the war.
And It finally did end - in 1975. So your focus shifted to waiting for James to return. To looking forward to where your life would take you next, maybe James by your side.
Months though turned into years, and years turned into five. Now it’s 1980 and you haven’t seen James. It’s been about fifteen years and at this point, your night with James and all past run ins seem like a dream.
A year or two ago you found a cabin in Canada, secluded just how you like it. You were in town to stock up on food when you visited the library with the intent to steal some books. However, you somehow ended up with a job there.
The job allows you to be around the thing you love, and not interact with most people. You simply organize the books and put them away once they’ve been returned. You may have to answer the occasional question, but for the most part, you’re alone.
Just how you like it.
The library is quiet so you have no overwhelming sound. Not many people visit so you don’t have to fight your instincts. You can just be around what you love in silence.
Your days consist of work, reading, and watching the moon at night. Your cabin is secluded enough you are able to enjoy the silence of nature, no sounds of the city to bother you.
All that led you to now, partaking in your usual nightly routine. You’re currently sitting on the porch, whiskey in hand as you watch the moon rise into the sky. If you had to guess, it’s almost a full moon and you like thinking the animals will soon be noisier.
You take a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air. With your mutation you’ve come to understand through the years that another reason you love solitude is the smell. Being in cities and around others was never a pleasant aroma.
You take another breath when you catch a familiar scent. You immediately tense, feeling your heartrate begin to increase. Your mind has to be playing tricks on you.
It can’t be.
You haven’t smelt the familiar whiskey and cigar in so many years.
Your gaze moves from the moon to the tree line to the first floor when you see a familiar build. There standing, flannel donned with a bag slung over his shoulder, is James.
You rise, forgetting your whiskey and immediately running off the steps and towards him. He seemed to have the same thought as you meet in the middle. His bag dropping as you jump into his arms, legs hugging around his waist.
Your own arms are around his neck while his own hold you up by your ass. Your lips immediately find his and you moan on the contact.
They’re soft, tasting of tobacco and solely James. Your mouths move hastily against each other, neither of you able to get enough of the other. He presses his tongue into your mouth and you let him take over the kiss, content to just be in his presence.
The kiss ends all too soon but James doesn’t let you go. He allows your legs to drop form his waist but keeps his hands on your ass, keeping you close. Your head is tucked into his chest, his own resting on your head.
You’re both silent a moment, just relishing in being together again. His heart pounds strongly beneath your ear and you have to stop tears from falling. He’s finally here.
“Fuck I missed you sweetheart.” He whispers against you before placing a kiss on your head.
“Fifteen years James.” You mumble against his chest.
“I go by Logan now.” You pull away at that, looking into his brown eyes, eyes you missed so much l, as you arch an eyebrow.
You’re able to take him in. Though fifteen years has passed he still looks the same. His hairs is longer than before, tufts still on either side but more prominent. He has a few wrinkles and there seems to be bags under his eyes.
You frown at that, not knowing what he’s been through. You lower your hands from his neck, grabbing his to take them off you. You grab his right hand in your left.
“Come, I’ll make dinner and you can tell me anything you want.”
…
That night, after dinner and many moments together to try to make up for the past years, the two of you lay in bed, sweaty and naked. He shared with you how Victor and he fought in the war for a few years before Victor fucked it up.
Ever the narcisstic masgonist he is, he attempted to rape a vietnamese woman and killed a Senior officer who tried to stop him. This led to himself and Jam- Logan, being brought in front of a firing squad.
He shared how he and Victor were than imprisoned because the bullets obviously didn’t work. How they were approached by a man named William Stryker to join a team of mutants.
They took him up on the offer.
James decided to go by his biological father’s surname - Logan. You finally learned how Victor and James were half brothers - that they shared the same father. It was only revealed when Logan went through puberty, as his mutation showed itself and Victor, being older, already had the mutation.
He shared how, throughout his time with weapon X - the mutants team - it turned into something he didn’twant to be a part of. The other mutants on the team and Stryker himself were brutal. Viscous. They couldn’t control themselves and had no empathy for those they were after or can across. All this was what James was against.
So he left.
He finally left Victor.
In turn, you shared with him your time apart. Your job at the library and how you’ve lived in this cabin awhile now. You live a quiet life, not worrying about being found out or running to the next cabin.
You were almost happy there.
He of course teased you about ‘becoming domesticated’. How he was off using his instincts while you were the one who ignored them. How the two of you seemed to have switched.
But you tell Logan how he was always the piece missing. How you missed not hiding your true self and instincts like you did with him. How being with him, you didn’t feel different. Didn’t feel lonely.
So Logan settled in with you, getting a job as a local lumberjack, putting his flannels to use. You lived a quiet life together for six years. You both left each morning to go to work, returning for a quiet night of dinner, whiskey, and sex.
Until everything changed again.
…
Tonight you and Logan lay in bed naked, tangled in your sheets and drenched in sweat. You’re laying with your head on his chest, right arm playing with his chest ahir. One of his arms is around your waist, the other smoothing your hair back and forth, a cigar hanging from his lips.
You tried to stop him from smoking in bed but it was a losing battle. Besides, the scent of them became soothing to you and now helps you fall asleep everynight. That, and just knowing he’s here, safe and with you.
The only lights in the room are his cigar and the moon. The embers alight Logan’s face, showing his stubble that lines his jaw and his deep brown eyes. To you, he looks the most peaceful in moments like this.
Like he hasn’t fought in numerous wars, seen terrible things, done terrible things. It’s moments like this you cherish the most. You can both be yourself and not care about all the factors of the outside world.
Logan catches your eyes and gives you a quizzical look. “What?” He asks, cigar between his teeth.
“Nothing.” You say to him, continuing to just stare.
“I can feel your eyes on me.”
“Just admiring your beauty.” You say, smiling brightly.
Logan chickles. “Smartass.” He says before taking the cigar from his mouth to place a kiss on your forehead.
You smile at the feeling, always feeling safe with him.
“Want to hear a story I read today.” You ask him.
He places the cigar back in his mouth, taking another drag. You watch as the smoke leaves his mouth, always amazed at how cool he makes it look. It’s funny that nothing can really kill him. So he may as well relish in the things the average human cannot do so often without the risk of cancer.
“What’d you read about today, sweetheat?” He places his hand back onto your hip, pulling you closer if possible.
“It’s about why the moon is so lonely.” You start, your voice soft. “It used to have a lover named Kuekuastheu and they walked the skies together. Everyone was jealous of the relationship but a spirit, Trickster was the most envious and planned to break the relationship.
He told Kuekuastheu that the moon wanted some wild roses from the normal world. So he went to get them, not knowing that once you leave the spirit world, you can never come back.
When Kuekuastheu returned he found out he couldnt re-enter. The moon was so sad so she got help from the sun to give her light power to her love. Keukuastheu asked the Master to turn into a wolf because when he went into the forest, he saw how harsh men were.
He saw how they cut a wolf to get its fur and eat it, so he chose a wolf to help them. He made people fear them and good came out of it, for whenever a wolf barred its teeth, it was a better option to run rather then hit or kill it.
But Keukuastheus still loves the moon so much that at night he goes to the cliff top and howls her name. For she can never be with him again.” You finish, a tear leaving your eye as you can’t imagine that kind of loss.
“You know what Keukuastheus means in the Native American language?” Logan whispers, looking you in your eye.
You shake your head. The sad fable did not reveal that.
“Wolverine.” Logan says.
You frown at that, suddenly not liking the symbolism. You don’t want to be his moon. He your Keukuastheus.
“Well, now it’s creepy and sad rather then romantic and sad.” You point out, a pout forming on your lips.
Logan snorts, shaking his head. He discards his cigar with his hand on your waist, stuffing it into the ashtray on his night stand. He then re-grabs your hip, pulling you half on top of him before lowering his head into your hair, giving your head one more kiss.
“It’s just a fable sweetheart, go to sleep.”
You close your eyes, feeling safe, happy, and not alone.
…
You're standing in your kitchen, making dinner for you and Logan. Another bright side of settling down near a town is frequent grocery shopping. You’d be lying if you said you missed hunting rabbit and deer as your source of daily protein.
You’re in the middle of seasoning some steaks, prepared to peal potatoes when the front door opens. A smile graces your face, surprised but happy Logan is home early.
“You’re home early.” You say, turning to face him.
Only it’s not Logan. Instead, it’s someone you havent seen in twenty years.
Victor.
“Sorry frail, figured you and I have some catchin’ up to do.” He says, walking closer to you.
You take in the man you loathed from the moment you met him. He still looks the same. Short hair on the top of his head with stubble lining his jaw. His canines are on full display, his claws grown on his hands which are at his side.
“Wasn’t expecting company.” You say, watching his every move, ready to fight if needed.
He continues to walk closer to you, looking around the place you’ve grown to call home. He slides his nails over the top of the couch, ripping it and you watch as the stuffing falls out. He moves closer to you and you take a step from the counter, knowing not to get yourself backed into a corner.
You watch as Victor leans his head up, nose flaring as he takes in the scent around him. He flashes you a smile. “Seems you and the runt might end up with some runts of your own based on the smell of this place.”
“What do you want Victor.” You say, arms crossed over your chest.
You know he’s not here for chit-chat. But you’ve ripped his throat out twice and you wont hesitate to do it a third.
Victor shrugs. “I mean, we’re practically family. Just wanna see how my little bro is treating his misses.”
“Cut the shit.” You snap, anger rising and teeth threatening to elongate. “I know what you’ve done the past years and I know sure as shit you’re not here to ‘catch up’.”
Victor smiles again, shaking his head. “Knew he didn’t like you just for your looks.” He crosses his own arms across his chest, mirroring you. “My… Colleague, has an interest in you. He wants a little meeting.”
You let out a laugh. “Not a chance in hell. And i suggest you fuck off before I make you.”
“I’m not sure, domestication seems to have made you soft.”
You growl at that, teeth elongated and claws growing. You know he’s bating you into a fight. You know he is. But your instincts are telling you to attack. To go for the throat. To finally make his heart stop beating.
Your instincts win out.
With a growl, you go to attack. Victor is just as ready. The two of you meet in the middle, his claws slicing into your shoulders while your own enter his stomach.
You grunt, pulling away and turning back to look at the man. He moves to attack again and you take the defensive, blocking the hit. You quickly turn, claws out and manage to slice his arm. He looks down at it, rage in his eyes before coming at you again, teeth bared.
He goes for your throat but you manage to get your own hand up, him taking a chunk out of your arm. You groan at the pain and grab the nearest thing, your potatoes peeler, and shred it down his face so he lets go.
You go to attack again as he’s momentarily distracted, swiping at his throat and managing to scratch him but not missing the jugular. Blood sprays your kitchen and you grab a chair, aiming to hit him. He quickly rips it out of your hands and growls.
He lands a punch to your face, your head going to the side and body flying back as you land on your on your ass and elbows. He rushes over to you but you move your legs, swiping his out from under him. This time he’s the one to land on his back and you quickly straddle him.
“Want to be with a real man?” He grunts to you, bucking up his hips.
You grimace in disgust and lean down, teeth aiming for his neck. They never get to make contact as he bucks again, this time with his hands on your hips and flip your position. His hands immediately find your neck and they enclose around them.
You feel your breathing cease and throat start to crush. You try to move you head up towards him, teeth bared to snap at his arms. Your hands are on his face, scratch any surface you can get but to no avail. He’s older, stronger, quicker, and more feral.
“Thanks for the rematch frail.” Victor says before you feel a pinch in your neck and everything goes dark.
…
“It’s amazing she isn’t already with child.” A voice calls you out of your unconsciousness.
You slowly open your eyes, the vision blurry before coming into view. You’re met with a room that looks like a hospital operation room, the scent of saline and disinfectant meeting your nose.
You look down to see you're in only a hospital gown. Your legs are spread open, knees and ankles strapped down. You let out a low growl, teeth and claws growing as you try to free your hands.
You hear a loud, fast beeping and hear someone speak. “She’s awake, sir.”
You try to look around for the noise but cannot see who spoke it.
“Fuckign Mutants, can’t do anything right. Give her another dose, I’m not done extracting yet.”
You have no idea what that means but know it’s not good. You immediately start to pull on the restraints, trying to free yourself. Soon though, you feel another prick in your neck and the world turns dark again.
…
The next time you awake the smell is the exact opposite of the first time. It's the stench of body odor, feces, and blood. You slowly open your eyes to see you’re in a cell laying on a dirty cot.
You immediately rise to your feet only for them to collapse, not able to hold your weight. You slowly stand back up, moving to sit on the edge of the cot.
You look around to notice the room is dark, only one window outside of the cell and in the hall. The cell itself having no window of its own. It consists of only the cot and a bucket in the corner.
Next you move back to your sense of smell, already covering the stenches. You can make out two unfamiliar scents and nothing else. You allow your ears to strain, hearing two separate heartbeats and breaths.
“Hello?” You call out, noticing your voice is hoarse.
“New girl, that you?” A voice calls from your right.
“I guess.” You reply, hand reaching out to rub along your throat as if to soothe the hoarseness.
“They’ve had you sedated for a month. Never saw someone fight as hard.” The voice from your left calls.
Your mind swirls You have no idea where you are. You don’t remember anything that has been done to you. Moments like this you’re grateful but also upset that you have your regenerative ability. You have no idea what has been done to you.
That thought scares you.
“Where are we?” You question.
“A facility they experiment on mutants.” the voice says angrily.
Great. Of course fucking Victor would drop you off here. Your mind thinks to Logan, wondering where he is. If he’s looking for you. If he thinks you’re dead.
You know that when he returned home he saw a blood massacre in the cabin. He probably would have smelt Victor as well as yourself, knowing the two of you fought. The question is, what did Victor do to him once Logan found him?
You don’t have time to think more on that, as an alarm is sounded throughout the hall. You rise, your legs cooperating this time and watch as your cell opens. You rush out, seeing that the two on either side of you are just kids, no older then the age of fifteen.
“Damn!” the boy on your left shouts. “You look like shit.”
You glance down, noticing that you’re in a half ripped shirt and dirty sweatpants. You see that you cell neighbors, the other a girl, are dressed in clean white t-shirts and sweats. Looks like you didn’t get any special treatment.
You lift your head, listening for any sound or smell of someone else. You hear feet moving from outside your hall, following them and smelling they’re all the same as the children next to you. Mutants running towards freedom.
“Come on,” you tell them, turning to your right. “Outside is this way.”
“How do you know?” the girl questions, looking scared.
You tap your nose with your finger, then repeat it to one of you ears. “My mutation.”
You then start running towards the hallway exit, knowing they’ll follow you. You open the locked door easily with your strength, looking out to see more teenagers running in the direction you suspected.
You allow your neighbors to go first before following, running along with the kids. You look around and notice this hallway is just a stretch with doors on either side, you’re assuming housing cells like the one you were just in.
You continue to run, noticing how there are staff on the floor, dead. You hold no ill feelings towards that, happy to just be out of this hell hole where you don’t even remember what you went through.
Soon, sunlight reaches your eyes and you soon exit the facility, grass under your bearfeet. You watch as the children are guided on to a jet, a woman dressed in black ushering them in.
You want answers. You want to know where Logan is, what happened to him. Where Victor is. You wouldn’t mind tearing out his throat, for good this time.
Deciding to not follow the others, you turn to walk towards the tree line. You’ve survived in the woods numerous of times and you know you can do it again. Your plan of action is to find out where you are, get home, then find Logan if he’s not there.
A hand suddenly stops you, causing you to turn and ready to fight. Having grabbed you is a man also dressed in black, similar to that of the woman. He’s wearing sunglasses and is tall, probably six feet with broad shoulders.
“Where are you going, jet’s this way.” The man says, his hand now on your own.
You jerk your hand out of his grasp. “To get answers.” you say, not owing this man anything.
“Revenge wont get you anything.” The man says, trying to persuade you to come with him.
You shoot him a smile, all teeth elonged and claws grown.
“I’m the Jackal. I can get anything.”
You then turn your back to the man, continuing to walk to the treeline.
…
After escaping the facility, you found out you were still in Canada and only about two hundred miles from your home. You stayed moving in the woods for a week, hunting and gathering your strength.
Afterwards, you found a nearby cabin that was empty but lived in. You broke in, helped yourself to a shower and change of clothes before packing a bag of food and leaving. You trekked through the woods for another week, allowing your scent of smell to guide you back home.
Finally you reached it, noticing how it looked run down. You immediately ran in to see the aftermath of your fight with Victor from a month ago. Blood was all over the kitchen cabinets, piles on the floor. The couch was torn apart, the kitchen table broken.
You walked into your bedroom, seeing the room the same as when you were last there. You sat down on the bed, the scent of Logan lingering.
Tears suddenly gathered in your eyes and you let out a sob as they continued to fell. You were angry. So angry. How Victor could come in and take you. How you were able to let yourself be taken and experimented on.
You were frustrated. Confused. You had no idea what has happened to you the past month and frustrated you couldn’t remember. One of the kids said you were sedated for a month and you cannot imagine what happened during that time.
You were sad. Sad for all those kids that undergone something that you might’ve. That they were just different and that meant they could be taken and experimented on.
But most of all you were sad cause you lost Logan again. You had Logan for six years, you were finally normal, not different. But it all had to go and change. And you have no idea where he is or what happened to him.
It seemed you really were the moon, and Logan Kuekuastheu.
If One’s Different, One’s Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic
Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan
You think about your last run in with James often. It always leaves you blushing, thinking of his lips on your own. The feel of his chest underneath your fingers. You haven’t seen him in six months since he saved your life but you think about your kiss weekly. Specifically at night after a bottle of wine. Or in the shower when you’re feeling specifically stressed.
You fantasize about his lips leaving your own to find that spot on your neck. You think about them traveling down your neck, to each of your breasts. Down your stomach to where you want him most.
You fantasize about how he would feel above you, his larger body covering your own. What he would feel like when he was inside of you, your claws elongated and trailing down his back. You wonder what his face would look like when he cums, if his own claws elongated and shredded the nearest object.
A month ago you found a secluded cabin in North Dakota and moved in with your now small library. You have about twenty seven books and went to the nearest town to stock up on the necessities: eggs, bread, booze. You’re now prepared to hunker down and spend the winter alone and secluded, just how you liked it.
Only fate had other plans.
You are seated in front of the fire place, a fire cracking and alighting the living room. Your favorite book back in hand, nursing a whiskey as you continued to annotate it for the umpteeth time. You nursed a whiskey as you found more lines that you liked and spoke to you.
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley was a book you found yourself reading so many times. Its theme and message resonated with you as you felt like the main character Marx. Being a mutant, you were born for rejection and as your years on Earth increased, so did the hate your kind received. Yet you believed it was due to those who were simply conditioned to believe so.
You take another sip of your whiskey, allowing it to burn down your throat when you hear a thump from outside your front door. Your ears listened as the wind traveled through the air and took a breath in through your nose to determine if someone was near the cabin.
That's when you smelt blood.
You place your book on the coffee table and rise, quickly growing your claws. You tried to scent who or what it was but could only smell the blood. You quietly made your way to the front door before breathing again.
A familiar scent hit you.
You opened your door and it revealed James, body slumped on the porch and unconscious. He was dressed in only jeans and a tank top as if he wasn’t expecting to venture into the snow. His shirt was torn, holes littering it and dried blood showing. Your eyes trailed his handsome face and noted dried blood there as well. His usually kept hair was wild and out of place, also full of blood.
What you didn’t expect to see though, was his claws. Or rather what was left of them. They were somehow still sheathed, but instead of standing at their usually long 12 inches, they appeared to be cut down - only about 5 inches remaining.
A gasp left you and you immediately knelt down, feeling for his pulse. It was steady and strong beneath your fingers, a gracious sign that despite this horrific injury, it wouldn’t kill him
Not knowing how he got here or where he came from, you reached down and lifted him up, your enhanced strength easily allowing you to do so. You closed the door with your foot behind you and brought him to your couch, laying him down.
The man still did not stir with being moved so you sighed, assuming he’d heal and wake up eventually. So you grabbed your discarded book and drink, curling up in your usually vacant chair and resumed your annotation.
Five minutes later a popping sound is heard and you look up to see bullets spilling out of James chest. A total of seven pop out and fall to the ground with a crash. You watch amazed, having never seen another heal the exact same way as you.
Despite the bullets leaving, his healing seeming to kick in, his claws continue to remain the same as does James - unawake. You stare for a moment before turning back to your book, reading your favorite part.
You continue for another five minutes or so before a gasp brings you out of it. You lower your book to see James shoot up from his lying position on the couch. His breathing is heavy and his chest seems to move with each breath. You immediately discard the book and go to him, kneeling down and carefully placing a hand on his shoulder.
“James?” You say quietly. “It’s Y/N. I found you passed out on the porch so I brought you inside.”
The man immediately looks up, his brown eyes meeting your E/C. Recognition slowly seemed to make its way into them before he looked away, eyes catching his broken claws which now appeared to be about 8 inches long.
“Fuck.” He growls out, clenching and unclenching his fists as he examines them.
“Yeah… you looked like absolute shit when I opened the door and I noticed that your claws were - well that. What the fuck happened?” You question, arm not leaving his shoulder.
“Another mutant. Some guy the size of a train. Got into a scuffle and well, it seems he took a piece of me with him.” James explained, not adding any details.
“Where’s Victor?” You question, eyebrows furrowed at his brother not being here.
“He’s been hunting’ some other mutant for a fight he lost. Wants revenge.” James scoffs, showing his displeasure with the action.
“Okay…” You drift off, rising from your position to think of what to do.
With the snow storm starting to brew outside, you knew that it was more than likely James would be stuck here for a day or two - not that you were complaining.
“While that doesn’t explain how the fuck you ended up on my front porch, I have to ask - do they grow back? Cause I swore they were shorter when I brought you in.” You were dying to know, eyes locked on his claws.
Though you’ve now run into more mutants since those years ago when you met the brothers, you still know very little about their mutations. You were dying to know more. Perhaps if his claws grow back, your own would if, God forbid, they were cut off too.
James raised them into the front of his face, once again clenching and unclenching as he too examined them.
“Huh.” He started. “Guess so Sweetheart. Never had ‘em broken before.” With that, the claws sink back into his knuckles and the wounds heal over as if they were never there.
You nod, seeing the reason but a little upset more information wasn’t given to you. If his mutation was just like yours, which you understood it was, his body heels and regenerates faster than an average person. So why couldn’t his claws do the same.
“Well, since you're here, want dinner?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.
James nodded.
…
After dinner you told him about the storm and how he probably shouldn’t leave until it died down. You both knew the snow and cold wouldn’t bother him - that he could’ve left as soon as he awoke, neither one of you acknowledged that.
Instead, you ate on the couch next to each other, recalling the past few months since you’ve seen each other. You were glad to just spend time with him, for once not having to deal with a mutant, Victor, or some other issue that seems to get in the way.
Once you were both finished, you washed the dishes before pouring yourself and him a glass of whisky, bringing the bottle with you as you resumed your seat next to him. He thanked you with a nod - not a man of many words.
You sat in silence, his arm occasionally brushing against yours as he raised it to sip his drink. If he noticed the goosebumps appear on your arm every time he did so, he didn’t say anything.
Your thoughts ran wild since you brought him inside. The silence has you thinking. You came to a realization after he saved you from the Mutant.
You felt comfortable around him, natural.
You weren’t used to it. You weren’t used to being around someone else for so long. You could only last a few hours. You could bear having a drink in a bar but that was it. You loved being alone. You hated being around people, mutants or not. You were a solitary creature and preferred it that way.
But with James, it felt different - it felt natural that the two of you could sit in silence when you were with each other and didn’t need to fill it. You could just relax around the other and not worry about all the other people around.
This fact startles you.
You hated being around others.
“Are you reading Brave New World?” James' question cuts you out of your thoughts.
You see his gaze has traveled to your now abounded book on the chair. You nod, turning to him and realizing now just how close the two of you have gotten.
His right leg is pressed against your left, his head almost entering your personal bubble. Your eyes meet when you turn to look at him, the brown dark and the fire reflecting off of them.
“Yeah.” You answer. “It’s my favorite. I think it kind of relates to how we live now if you think about it. Without a mutation, people have the same thought, but that thought was engraved into them and they never knew differently.” You state, trying your best to explain why you like it so much.
“If one’s different -“
“One’s bound to be lonely.” You finish the quote, surprised he knew it. “You’ve read it?”
James nods, his eyes quickly flashing to your lips before back to your eyes. You almost think you imagined it.
“I didn’t know you could read.” You tease, a smile pulling at your lips.
“Smartass.” James states, shaking his head and growing a smile of his own.
You smile back, just staring at him as his eyes are locked on your own, as if searching for something. You’re not sure who leaned in first, maybe you both did and met in the middle. But before you knew it, your lips were touching his.
You couldn’t explain. You’ve kissed others before. You’ve fucked others before. But it never felt the same when you kissed James. This was different, better. Natural.
His lips fit perfectly over your own, moving gently, almost hesitant at first this time, before throwing caution to the wind and adding more force. His lips were surprisingly soft as they formed against yours.
His tongue pried your lips apart easily and you almost fell apart. He tasted just as you remembered, like the whiskey he was drinking but also like tobacco from a cigar he probably smoked hours prior. It was a taste you couldn’t get enough of.
You moan as his stubble scratched against your cheeks as you moved, the dominance in both your mutations not wanting to give up easily. You placed your hands on his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt as they traveled up. They finally reached their destination: the little tufts on either side of his head.
This time you didn’t think about the fact that you were in a fight with another mutant. That your home was destroyed and you had to move again. This time you were truly able to take in the moment, focusing solely on his lips on yours.
You grabbed his hair tufts into your hands, pulling tightly which released a groan from his mouth. You pressed your thighs together, your core beginning to ache as you think of what other sounds you could get out of him.
James seemed to notice that you’re trying to lead things and he quickly sets you straight. His own hands travel down to your waist, gripping your hips before pulling you towards him.
Somehow he’s able to maneuver you without breaking the kiss so that you’re laying with your back on the couch. Your hands are still entangled in his hair but he’s on top, his hips pressing into your own and his cock saying hello.
This is way better than your fantasies.
You try to buck up - to get some type of friction where you desperately need it but he’s having none of that. As if he enjoys teasing you, he lifts his hips away from your exploration to deny you that friction.
Sooner than you’d have liked, you need air. So with great reluctance you pull away from your favorite kiss ever, mouth parting from his.
“Fuck.” James groans quietly, his breath fanning your lips. “Been wanting to do that since you pulled away last time.”
You laugh - you can’t help it. Because you felt the exact same way. You tell him that.
“Seeing you there - truly you with no Victor around, it was like seeing you for the first time.” You revealed to him, suddenly nervous at your admission.
But James doesn’t tease you or mock you. No. He smiles, showing all his teeth and appearing happy.
“I’m glad you saw me Sweetheart.” He says before leaning back down to capture your lips again.
This kiss is sloppy, tongues immediately meeting and teeth smashing against each other. You’re tongues battle for control over the kiss, neither relenting.
You wouldn’t have it any other way.
You rely solely on your instincts. On your mouth meeting his, tongue fighting his. His entire being consumes you. His large body is covering yours, his scent of tobacco, whiskey, and something entirely just James invading your sense of smell.
He pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking and pulling another moan out of you. This time he’s the one that pulls away first, lips kissing along your jawline before reaching your pulse point.
You know it’s racing beneath his lips and you buck your hips as he begins to suck. The sensation shoots right down to your core and need some type of friction between your legs.
“Fuck.” You moan, the feeling unlike any other.
Thankfully he doesn’t pull away this time, grinding down into you so you can feel his hardened cock. You sigh at the feeling, finally having some relief. His hands travel from your waist to the bottom of your shirt, silently saying he wants it off. His mouth leaves your neck as you push him away, watching as he leans back so you can quickly discard your shirt. Already up, you make quick work of taking off your bra.
“Fuck.” James says lowly, his eyes darkening.
He licks his lips and goes to discard his own shirt in one go. You don’t get a chance to admire him like he did you as he immediately pushes you back down, lips now attacking your breasts.
His lips attack your right one, his hand going to your left. His mouth immediately finds your nipple, sucking and biting. You moan at the sensation, eyes closed and moving your hands to travel up and down his bare back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath.
Your claws elongate and they continue to trail up and down, creating scratches on James’ back that seem to heal the moment they appear. The action causes the man to groan, hips grinding harder down on you.
His lips leave your breast and you want to cry at the lost but they don’t leave your body, trailing down your stomach with open kisses. He reaches your waistline, and hear a schlit, opening your eyes to meet his brown ones.
You catch his gaze and see his right hand has elongated his claws- now fully healed. You realize he’s asking your permission to remove them. You nod, wanting nothing between him and your core. His claws quickly slice through your pants and underwear, James grabbing them and tossing them over the side of the couch.
His lips return to your body, your hands back in his hair. He places kisses on the inside of your right thigh, traveling up and over your mound before moving to the other. He finds one spot that elicits a moan from you and bites down, causing you to buck up into his face.
“Ugh fuck.” You moan breathlessly
One of his arms finds its way across your stomach to hold you down. He seems to be everywhere except the one place you want him to be.
“Been wanting to taste your juices sweetheart.” James says, his warm breath fanning your core and bringing goosebumps to your skin.
Finally, after what feels like forever, his lips find your clit and he places a kiss there before running his tongue along it.
You through your head back at the new sensation. “Fuck James.”
The man uses that as motivation, starting to suck and sometimes adding his teeth in the mix. You’re core is soaked at this point and jolt slightly as he travels down and licks along your slit.
“So sweet baby.” He groans against you.
His tongue prods in and out slowly as you try to buck up to get him to go deeper but his hand prevents you. His mouth travels back to suck your clit and he suddenly presses a finger into you, giving you no warning. You immediately tighten around him, trying to buck your hips again but to no avail.
“Ughh.” You moan, feeling as his finger slowly, torturously, moves in and out of you.
He soon adds another finger, setting a slow pace. “That’s it. Look at you squeezing around my fingers like a good girl.”
You nod, feeling yourself get more turned on at his words. His fingers move occasionally to curl up, hitting the spot you need most and your hand in his hair try to push his mouth further to your clit.
You start to feel the familiar feeling set in your stomach, pulling and gripping his hair tighter. The fire starts to spread in your stomach, reaching your throat like you can’t breath and pulsating at you’re core. He seems to get the hint, immediately stopping his motions and pulling back entirely.
Your eyes snap open, looking down to see James sitting back on his knees, just watching you. He chuckles lowly at the state you’re in and you know what he probably sees. Skin flushed, breathing heavy, hair mused. Face annoyed.
“You’re not cumin’ on my fingers sweetheart.” James says, before reaching down to remove his jeans, revealing to not be wearing underwear. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”
You core tightens at his words, your gaze taking him in. His hair is all over the place from your gripping. His stubble is drenched in your juices, own skin flushed and chest heaving up and down.
You can’t help yourself as your gaze travels down to his cock. Your eyes almost pop out of your head. He’s large, there’s no denying that. Probably 8 inches, and his girth is the largest you’ve seen. His head is red and angry, precum leaking from his tip.
Next time you’re gonna have a taste.
But you don’t get to tonight as he moves back on you, returning to cover your body with his. His lips meet your own again and you moan as you can taste yourself.
You wrap your hands around his neck and move your legs wider apart, trying to make room for his legs between your own. He seems impossibly larger now and you relish in the feeling of his bare chest against yours.
You feel his hand slide down your body, gathering some of your juices. He grunts, seeming to be pumping himself before you feel his tip against your entrance.
He rubs it over your slit, continuing his teasing form earlier as he moves his hips forward, allowing just his head to enter you before pulling back. He pulls away from your mouth, breath on your face and eyes staring into yours.
You stare into the dark brown, seeing only lust and trust in his eyes. He looks almost vulnerable, if not for the fact that he’s a very large man, in every aspect.
Before you can kiss him again, his hips shoot forward and his cock is sheathed in you. You gasp at the intrusion, his fingers not at all preparing you for it.
“Fuck you’re so tight.” James mumbles before leaning forward to catch your lips again.
You’re tongues continue to lazily dance together. He sets a slow but brutal pace. His hips pull back slowly, agonizingly, before he slams them back into yours, filling you up.
You try to meet each thrust, bucking your hips every moment to drag him closer. Your claws continue to drag up and down his back, creating more bloody scratches that heal.
His own hands are gripping each of your hips now, their strength forming bruises that you know will heal once their pressure is gone. He pulls you into him everytime he enters, your eyes seeing stars everytime.
He pulls his mouth from yours, moving to your neck to kiss, suck, bite anywhere he can. At one point you’re sure he draws blood before he’s sucking it again as it heals.
You never imagined it would feel like this with him. His large body covering yours, sweat mixing with your own. You’re senses filled with nothing but him, his scent, his blood, his body, his cock.
It’s perfect.
“Fuck James, don’t stop,” you say, moving one hand from his back to rub your clit, feeling the pressure start to build.
One of his hands leaves your hip to grab your own, bringing it up to the right side of your face to pin it down.
“That’s my job sweetheart.” He grins wolfishly at you before letting your hand go to find your nub.
He immediately does and pinches it hard before rubbing in circles that somehow match each thrust.
“Fuck baby you feel so fucking good.” James praises into your ear. “You gonna cum on my cock? You been wanting this since you saw me, huh?”
“Mhm.” Is all you can ge tout, nodding along to the dirty words he’s spewing. “So bad James. Moment I saw you. Every instinct was to fuck you.” Your reveal the truth.
“That’s a good girl.” He grunts, his hips picking up place as his hand moves faster. “Want you to cum my cock. Wanna smell you for days.”
You moan at that, the words doing something deep in you. Your pressure continued to build and build and you’re almost at the edge.
“Fuck James I’m gonna-“
James cuts you off my moving faster then you think anyone can move. His fingers press harder into your clit and soon you’re seeing stars, entire body tensing and core squeezing him tight. Your claws dig deep into his shoulders, holding tightly.
“Ungh Fuck”
It’s enough to send James over the edge too, his own body tensing and breathing heavy. You hear a schlitt and then he’s groaning in your ear and you feel himself empty into you.
“Fuck sweetheart.” James breaths, slowing the movements of his hips.
You can’t say anything, mind completely blank. You never imagined it would be this good with James. You knew it would be good, but this was beyond any fantasy.
His body stills above you, hips still planted firmly against your own and cock still deep inside. His entire weight is pressed onto you and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
You didn’t see him as the rough type, or dirty talker. But the words that came out of his mouth only made him hotter and more appealing to the animal inside of you.
You retract your claws and run one hand up and down his spine in a soothing manner as both of you try to gain control of your breathing. Your other hand scracthes his hair at the base of his neck, noticing that it’s surprisingly soft.
James carefully exits from you but doesn’t move his body beside that, content to just lay there. His face is pressed into the right side of your neck, occasionally kissing you. His right hand comes up and carresss the other side of your neck, moving up and down your pulse point.
You didn’t take him as a cuddler.
“Fuck James.” You whisper, eyes staring at the ceiling as you relish in what just happened.
You feel James body vibrate with a chuckle. “Feel the same sweeheart.”
He pulls away slightly from your neck and you turn to look at him, eyes meeting.
“Never had ‘em come out like that before.” He reveals, referring to his own claws.
You look down and see identical puncture marks on either side of you hips. This couch has definitely reached its finish line.
You shoot him a soft smile, liking this vulnerable side of him. “It’s never felt like that before.” You share with him.
Your eyes stare into his brown ones, neither of you relenting. His are back to trust but there's something else there this time. Something you’ve never seen in another's eyes before when looking at you.
“I leave for vietnam in a week.” James whispers to you.
You stare into his eyes, seeing something vulnerable at his admission to you. You’re not sure what to say. You guys aren’t together or anything. Just a few run-ins and this amazing night together. But you’d be lying if you didn’t think it would change something between the two of you.
Maybe more run-ins. Maybe more of tonight. Maybe moments together that are a week long rather than a day.
“Visit when you come back?” You whisper, hope in your voice.
James leans forward, capturing his lips with yours. “I plan on it.”
If One's Different, One's Bound to be Lonely - Wolverine Fic
Fic Synopsis: We know Wolverine and Sabertooth but the reader is known as Jackal. Just like the other two, their mutation is animalistic, lending them healing factors, enhanced physical abilities, and animal senses. This fic details their relationship with the Anchor!Wolverine and how they ended up meeting the Worst!Logan
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6
Chapter Warnings: violence, cussing, lewd comments/thoughts, lots of angst
Many months passed and it took you a while to become semi-comfrortable living at the school. The first few weeks were completely overwhelming. You spent half your time in your room, needing space from the voices, the scents, the people.
You did not teach at first, Charles allowing you to grow accustomed to school and being in civilization again. Your days consisted of you using the combat training room and prepping lesson plans for teaching - something you found yourself terrible to do.
You could easily teach the kids how to defend themselves and harness their powers. You did it yourself so many years ago. But deciding what books to read and why was proving to be difficult.
The bright side of living at the school was that you were able to find friendship in Ororo. The two of you ate dinner together everyday, yourself not being much of a morning person. You were able to eat with some conversation, though never going too deep. You learned that she taught an elective of multicultural studies and discovered her mutations when she was only nine years old.
Another bright side was that Charles allowed you to frequent the woods in the surrounding area when you needed a break from others. You were able to fully be yourself, not keen on showing the students the full capability of your mutation yet.
Soon, you felt comfortable enough and found it ridiculous that you were nervous to teach. You were surprisingly good and due to your love of literature and ability to read people, you were able to plan lessons that the kids actually enjoyed. They always seemed to be engaged in your classes and had deep thoughts about whatever book you were reading.
When it came to combat training, the kids actually respected you, though some were even scared of you. You figured to throw caution to the wind and started day one with explaining your mutation and letting the kids who felt comfortable to do so too. You explained to them how it was important to have confidence and embrace their abilities. To not be afraid or ashamed of them.
In addition to being the resident doctor, Jean also taught biology courses and was dating mister stoic, Scott. The cyclops taught geometry and continued to annoy you to no end.
A year into living in the school, Charles pulled you into his office one day. He explained how he and some of the faculty are what he deemed the “X-Men”. How they scout for other students or adults to join their school, as well as take down any threats, mutant or not.
So that became your life for the next three years, joining Scott, Ororo, and Jean on missions to find other recruits. Sometimes Charles would send you and Ororo on solo missions, knowing that you’ve gotten your hands dirty in the past and had no qualms doing so in the future.
You weren’t offended by that notion. You were confident in yourself and not ashamed of your past. If these people could accept you despite it, you could accept yourself. You were happy to be the go-to mutant to take down any enemies - especially when it meant helping kids who needed it.
You were able to get more comfortable around others, Charles helping you explain the concept of ‘putting up a wall’ in your mind. The wall allowed you to limit the increased stimuli your instincts constantly gathered.
The next three years of our life you were content. You may have even considered yourself happy.
Until a man you never thought you’d see again showed up.
And he didn’t remember you.
You just got back from a solo-mission, your aim to gather intel on a mutant named Magento and his brotherhood of mutants. His right hand man, another mutant similar to a Sabertooth was spotted and Charles sent you to do some scouting. Your skill of adaptability comes in handy.
But as soon as you entered the school, Charles’ voice entered your head.
“Y/N, come to my office, it’s urgent.”
Odd, as the man rarely enters without your permission, you quickly made your way to that destination. You passed Ororo and Scott on the way, both looking weary but not speaking a word to you. You reached Charle’s office and knocked, waiting for a response.
“Come in,” his voice sounded and you did as he said.
You entered and froze at seeing a man from your past. There, standing in Charle’s office was Logan. Was the Wolverine. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and sweatshirt, ones that definitely did not fit him.
Your eyes gaze over him, noting how his build seems larger than before if possible. The sweatshirt was zipped halfway, showing off his brown chest hair that you missed so much. His shoulders are broader, arms more defined. You finally reach his face and a gasp leaves your mouth. You can’t help it.
He looked the exact same as all those years ago. His jaw is lined with stubble, longer than you've seen it before. His hair was longer as well, the tufts on either side more pronounced then you’ve ever seen.
You take a deep breath to inhale the scent you missed so much. Smokey like a cigar, a splash of whiskey, something that you always defined solely as Logan. Only there’s something else.
Something different.
When your gaze finally meets the rich brown you’ve been dreaming about, there is no softness like you expected. No look of trust and warmth. No recognition.
Instead, they were filled with distrust and confusion.
You felt like you were stabbed through the heart.
“I know this is Logan, and you knew him in the past.,” Charles’ voice starts in your head. “But I’ve looked into his head and he has no memory of you. In fact, he has no memory of anything past ten years ago.”
You give a stubble nod, showing Charles you understand. You swallow a lump in your throat but do your best to remain professional.
“Miss. Y/L/N. I’d like you to meet Logan.” Charles begins introductions, gesturing to Logan with one hand. He brought a teenager here and will be staying for the time being to help us assist against Magento. We think the girl, Rogue, is wanted by Magneto.” Charles begins to explain before turning his attention to Logan. “Logan, this is Professor Y/N. She teaches English Literature and helps out with Combat Training. In addition, she is a member of the X-Men and one of my most trusted companions.”
That’s news to you.
“Y/N, I was hoping you could give Logan a tour and show him where he will be staying for the time being.” Charles finishes.
“Um.” You hesitate before clearing your throat. “Of course.”
No. You do not want to be around this Logan. This is not your Logan. This is someone entirely different. Someone who had to have gone through something similar to you to not have his memories. To smell different.
“Wonderful! I’ll leave you two to it.” Charles finishes, dismissing the both of you.
You look to Logan, motioning with your head for him to follow you at the door. The man looks at you with distrust before sighing and doing so. You close the door to Charles' office, stopping to turn to the man you used to know.
“Sorry about Charles or any of the other people you met already. While they’re also mutants, they don’t get people like us.” You say quietly, knowing he’ll hear you.
“Us?” He questions, eyebrow arched.
His voice, too, is the same it was all those years ago. Rough and husky that sends a feeling throughout your entire body. You shake that thought and send him a sly smirk. You raise your right hand, growing your claws on it and flashing your sharp teeth.
“Us.” You say.
Logan raises an eyebrow in surprise at this. You wonder if you’re still the only female mutant like him he's met before - except he doesn’t recognize you so he’s now meeting you for the first time. You watch as his gaze travels down your body, as if assessing you for the first time. His mistrust seems to grow in you as his eyes narrow. You should have expected that, with what happened during your first meeting and all. A feral with another feral could lead to someone getting their throat ripped out.
“Shall we begin the tour?” You don’t wait for a response, turning on your heels and walking down the hall.
…
The tour ends with you bringing Logan to his assigned room, the one right across from yours. Lucky you. You open the door and step in, throwing your hands up and spinning around the room.
“And this is where you will be staying. You got a bed, dresser, nightstand, closet, and private bathroom.”
You watch as Logan steps into the room, looking around and taking it in. He was quiet throughout the tour but you could tell he had questions. That he was observing and reading you, waiting for a moment to escape or attack if he needed to. The two of you were still so similar. His personality was exactly as you remembered it. Confident but not cocky, smart but not arrogant. You just wished he remembered you.
“I’ll leave you to it.” You give a tight lipped smile and go to leave, passing him as you do so.
His arm grabs yours, stopping you. Unlike the last time you first met though, his claws don’t come out and pierce you. He merely grabs you and turns you to face him.
Goosebumps arise on your skin as this is the first time you’ve been touched by him in so many years. You hope he doesn’t notice the reaction he gets from you. The increase of your breathing and heartbeat. The slight blush you’re sure you’re wearing.
Your gaze goes from his eyes, to his hand, then back to his eyes. He immediately lets go, his face almost looking apologetic before he stops himself.
“How did you end up here?” He asks after a moment of silence, as if he’s waited the whole day to ask. “How can you stand being here?” He shakes his head, as if he can't fathom being around all these people.
You let out a chuckle.
“I couldn’t stand it. Not at first. I’ve lived my whole life alone,” You stretch the truth “enjoying the comfort of it. Charles found me and I was hesitant at first. But, I realized I could be the person I needed years ago. It’s been a good few years for me since I came here.” You reveal, not wanting to say too much.
Not wanting to say how much you missed him. Or how you’d wait for him to show up on your front porch. Or ask what he’s been up to. Or what has happened to him to not remember things.
“And they don’t care that you’ve -”
You cut him off. “Killed people?” You shake your head. “No. If anything it gives them an excuse not to get their hands dirty.”
Logan stares at you, as if pondering your answer. You don’t give him time to explain, stepping halfway at the door.
“I’ll leave you to get settled. During your stay, if you need booze, you won't find it here. Charles doesn’t allow it in common areas due to the kids around. But feel free to knock on my door. I have lots of beer and whiskey.” You shoot him a smile.
You cross the hall and unlock your own door, not looking back and closing it. You then lean against it and slide down to the ground, silently letting your tears fall.
…
The next morning, you cry again. You can’t help it. Everything you imagined happening to Logan the past years, this wasn’t it.
You always assumed he was out there searching for you too. That the two of you would eventually find eachother again and simply missed each other in passing every so often.
You never expected this.
You’re currently sitting in med bay with Ororo, Scott, and Charles. Jean ran tests on Logan, examining his mutation and performed a full body scan - all similar to your own when you first arrived. The results startled you. All his bones have been coated with a metal called Adamantium. It was surgically grafted into his entire skeleton.
That explains the change in his scent.
Jean explained how his mutation is the reason he survived the surgery. His regeneration capability allowed him to heal rapidly. Jean added how determining his age could be impossible because of this. His was very similar to your own mutation, she added.
Ironic that you’ve been dying to know the similarities between you two all those years ago. Yet you find out the worst way imaginable.
“Who did this to him?” Scott questions, voicing everyone's thoughts.
“He doesn’t know.” You speak up before Jean can. “And I bet he doesn’t remember everything about his life before it happened.”
All four of your companions look at you, surprised at your knowledge.
“That’s correct.” Jeans confirms. “How do you know that?”
You look to Charles for guidance. You weren’t sure if you should reveal that you’ve met Logan before. That his name was James and he had a brother named Victor. That he enjoyed whiskey on the rocks and added too much salt to his steak. That he smoked cigars in bed and was a blanket hog.
“Share what you’d like. We won’t tell him.” Charles promises, getting nods from the others.
You swallow, trying to form words to discuss a past you’ve long since tried to forget. “I haven’t seen him in many years..” You start. “I met him in the 50s, and we ran into each other for the next ten years or so. He went off to Vietnam and got tangled with some people but we found eachother again.” You close your eyes, remembering the day like it was yesterday. “We lived peacefully for six years. We were… normal. Until one day, I was captured and we saw each other for the last time.” You finish, keeping it short and concise.
“You guys ran into each other or you guys ran into each other?” Ororo questions from your right.
You shake your head at the woman, knowing what her thoughts are. You couldn’t blame her. Logan looked just as appetizing fifteen years later.
“You trust him?” Jean questions, asking you curiously.
You can tell she wants to dive into your mind. To figure out Logans past from you and try to work through how to help him. That’s how Jean is, you've come to learn. Always wanting to solve the next puzzle.
You sigh, thinking of that question before finding your answer. “Back then, our roles were reversed. I was more feral, more likely to get into a fight or kill someone. I hated being around anyone and solely followed my instincts. He was the calm one. He had no qualms ignoring his instincts. Now though, although his personality is the same, he’s definitely not the man I knew back then. But if there’s one thing I’m sure of, he’ll still have good morals. ”
Which was the truth. Even when you saw Logan at his worst, he knew right from wrong.
There’s silence again, everyone taking in your answer. They knew of your past and didn’t think any differently. But they weren’t sure about a stranger in the school full of teens. A stranger that solely trusted his animalistic instincts with indestructible metal throughout his entire body.
You had to add the part about his morals. That was the very first thing you admired about him. He always seemed to not want to cause harm, cause destruction. He always seemed to want to make the right choice.
“Experimentation on mutants. It’s not unheard of but I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Charles breaks the silence.
“What do you think Magneto wants with him?” Scott questions.
“I’m not entirely sure it’s what Magneto wants.” Charles reveals.
…
Later that day, you follow Jean into the exam room where Logan sits upon the table. He’s back to wearing the great sweatshirt and sweatpants and looks up as you too enter.
“So?” He asks, seeming to ignore your presence.
“The metal is throughout your entire skeletal system, as expected.” Jean informs him.
He snorts, as if to say ‘I told you so’. His eyes take you in as they did last night. Only this time they only hold curiosity. You guess that's a step up from mistrust.
“So why are we here again? You people got your pictures.” He tells you.
“With my abilities, I might be able to grab a memory and see it.” Jean simply explains to him. The two of you make your way towards the man, you behind him while Jean is in front. His gaze solely focuses on you, as if he poses you as the bigger threat and doesn’t want his back to be turned.
“And you brought the English Lit teacher because?” Logan questions, not turning to look at the doctor.
“It might hurt and I probably rival your strength the best here.” You smile snarkily, wanting to smack the condescending look off his face.
“Whatever you think bub.” He states.
You roll your eyes but don’t say anything, looking to see if Jean is ready. The woman nods and you place both of your hands on either of his shoulders. You squeeze and press down with your strength, smirking slightly at the way Logan tenses. If he was going to be a dick to you without even knowing you, then you were going to be a bitch back.
“Ready?” Jean asks, raising her hands to both his temples but not touching him.
You feel Logan take a deep breath and you assume he closes his eyes before Jean does the same. His body immediately tenses up and you take a guess that he probably would have moved if you weren't holding him, You watch as Jean's eyes flutter back and forth beneath her eyelids as she tries to uncover any memory. Not even thirty seconds later, Jean’s hands are removed and Logan relaxes.
“What did you see?” He asks her.
You watch as Jean stares at him before saying, “Scott.”
You turn to the door and see the man standing there. Jeans doesn’t answer Logan's question and bids you both goodnight, Leaving the two of you alone.
“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow, tough guy.” You tease before walking out of the room and leaving him alone.
…
You wake to a shout. You immediately rush out of bed, dressed in sleep shorts and a t-shirt that's seen better days. You open your door and look up and down the hallway, seeing no one there. You start to head back to your room before you hear another shout, realizing it’s coming from Logan’s room.
Throwing caution to the wind, you enter his room and quickly shut the door to find him thrashing around on his bed. You slowly walk closer, knowing how to be silent, and look over him as he has what you assume is a nightmare.
Sweat litters his brow and shirtless torso, his eyes moving under his eyelids. He continues to thrash, his head moving side to side as another shout escapes him. You can’t bear the thought of him going through this.
“Logan.” you whisper, body standing on the left side of his bed. “Logan.” You say a little louder.
It does nothing to wake him and he continues to dream, body moving more as if it’s becoming worse. Sighing, you lean forward with your left hand, reaching down to touch his left shoulder. Before you can touch him though, he awakes.
“Arrghh!” He exclaims, a schilt noise heard before you feel metal pierce your body.
“Fuck!” You shout in pain, feeling your breath catch in your throat, guessing that a lung or both have been punctured.
You begin to gasp for breath, feeling as you open your mouth but nothing will enter it and make it to your lungs. You E/C eyes match dark brown and you see a now awake Logan staring up at you, eyes filled with concern.
“Help me.” Logan says. “Somebody help!” He screams as you continue to struggle for breath.
For some reason, your body is taking longer than usual to heal and you don’t like that thought one bit. You’ve survived so much in your long life. Bullets, Animals. Other mutants. Knives. You are damned if the man you used to love is the one that kills you.
Willing your body to cooperate and heal, you raise a hand to one of the wounds and grow our own claws. You then dig them in, and it seems to snap your body out of shock, starting to heel. It’s at that moment the light flickers on and you turn to see Scott, Jean, and Ororo enter the room, children standing in the hallway.
“What happened, are you okay?” Ororo asks, immediately rushing to your side along with Jean while Scott tries to block the kids.
“Yeah. I just startled him and got to close. His claws got me.” You explaining, looking at both the concerned women and smiling lightly.
“Then why did he scream for help?” Jean questions, lifting your shirt to see where the wounds should be, already gone and healed.
“I don’t think my brain registered what happened. My healing didn’t trigger right away so I sped up the process.” You explained.
“Healing?” Logan questions from behind.
Suddenly remembering you’re in his room and have an audience, you glance up at Scott and the kids, addressing everyone except the man seated on the bed behind you.
“I’m okay. We’re okay.” You start. “Everyone back to bed. You have class in the morning.”
Some of the kids groan, probably excited that they saw more action tonight than they have throughout all of their combat training. You look to Ororo and Jean and say,
“I’m okay, promise.”
They both search your face for a moment, looking for any signs of a lie. But since you’ve known them, you’ve been evasive yes but never lied to them, furthering their trust of you. They seem to believe you, both nodding before turning around and leaving the room. Ororo shoots you a small smile before closing the door so you’re now alone with Logan.
You turn and look at the stranger wearing the familiar face. He’s still sitting on the edge of the bed, his face full of concern and staring at you. His gaze still seems to continue to roam your body, as if not believing you’re okay.
Even though he doesn’t remember you, you remember him. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You walk closer to him, his gaze never leaving. You gesture with your hand to the seat on his left, silently asking if you can have a seat there.
He nods, turning his head to look at you. You take the seat and lick your lips and sigh before starting to speak. “When I said you and I are alike, I wasn’t lying. Your mutation is similar to that of the Wolverine animal. Mine is similar to a Jackal.”
Reconfizition immediately fills his face. You hope, for one second, it’s a memory. Maybe you were in his dream. Or maybe, be some stroke of luck, he’s remembering you and all your times together. But that’s not what happens.
“I’ve heard of you,” He starts, his voice gruff. “A mutant that relies solely on their instincts. Known for hunting down dangerous mutants.”
You smile slightly at that. “That’s me.”
“But I’ve heard about them existing in the mid 1900s. You don’t look like you're 80.” Logan says, his eyes moving across your face, as if observing if your true ability is to simply disguise your age.
“Hence how we’re alike so much. I was born in 1895. I have regenerative abilities that cause me to age slowly. And also heal quickly.” You inform him by gesturing to your healed wounds.
His gaze travels down, able to see your stomach through the holes in your shirt - which you have no qualms about. He has seen you naked before - memory or not.
“Have we ever, I mean,” Logan pauses, as if searching for how to ask a question. “If I’m as old as Jean thinks I am, and you're as old as you are, have we ever met before?”
His voice is hopeful, as if you can be the answer to his lost memory. You immediately think of what could possibly go wrong if you tell him the truth. You certainly don't think it would jog his memory. If anything he could possibly look at you with pity if you tell him everything. How you guys got to know each other and all it entailed.
You sigh though. You don’t want to lie to the man. You decide honesty with some hidden truth is the best option.
“Our paths crossed over forty years ago. We ran into each other a few times after.. Just shared about our experiences as mutants.”
Surprise and relief covers his face. You wish you could be fully transparent, you really do. But you know it wouldn’t be fair to him. He’s essentially a new person, he has a chance to start over. Forget all the wrong he did and maybe do some good.
“What was I like?” He questions and you knew it was coming.
“Exactly the same.” Your reveal. “Confident but not cocky. Smart but not arrogant.” You leave the explanation at that, not wanting to dive deeper into how he's the same person but now has a chance to do different things. “Can I ask a question?” You try to change the subject.
Logan sighs, as if knowing you were going to. Since Jean revealed his adamantium skeleton, one question has been on your mind.
“When your claws come out, do they hurt?” You needed to know. Needed to know if what he went through continues to torture him everyday.
this one from the touch-starved prompt list w logan 😩🫶:
when the other holds onto their waist briefly as they're passing by and it just send chills down their spine
don't mind me
a/n: i need you to know this is pure softness and i am swooning at the thought of how sweet it is. logan is such a gentlemen (cue his words in the wolverine about being old fashioned) and just this thought of him being gentle with the reader, but also respectful. i'm dead. i'm also attached af to this dynamic and would be so open to exploring more with these two. i see the logan here as dofp!logan (especially at the end with that shirt).
summary: you refused to admit that you were smitten with the man who melted your otherwise intelligent mind. you were however...horrible with subtlety. luckily the same could be said for him.
pairing: logan howlett x reader
word count: 1k
warnings: none, fluff, logan howlett is a tease, blossoming of a relationship.
Chaos remained the baseline state when it came to life at the mansion. You couldn't find a way to escape something so natural—a piece of your existence that settled in close to your heart. You liked hearing the children's voices raise in pitch the more excited they got. You liked being showered in hellos as you passed through the halls.
You'd even grown fond of the way you always somehow found yourself stuck in this particular situation. Standing in the kitchen, searching for food, as Logan attempted to make his way through the busy environment.
Few things made you smile the way seeing him in the mornings did. Mussed hair, eyes glazed in partial drowsiness, as he sought for the largest mug tucked in the back of the cabinets. A gag gift from Scott with the claim that the Wolverine needed a cup that could handle him.
(Neither of them would admit it, but the gift remained Logan's favorite piece in the house. A staple in his usual rushed breakfast.)
"Have a nice night?" you asked, attempting to keep your gaze from dropping to his chest.
The white beater he wore never seemed to get old; you absolutely didn't mind seeing him in it at the start of your days.
He grinned, polite and gentlemanly and never anything more. There came days where you wondered if the tension you felt hanging in the air was merely a figment of your imagination. Possibly a delusion to help you cope with such early time slots and late night papers to grade.
"I heard you down here last night."
A grunt rumbled from deep in his chest as he took a sip of coffee large enough to scald his mouth. Screams filtered in through the open doors, quickly followed by a group of kids ready to rummage in the cabinets you both occupied. Which meant your short allotted time with him would soon come to an end, forcing you to pick it up tomorrow morning.
"You want something to eat?" Nodding to the stove with a pan coated in leftover burnt bacon (Scott's attempt at cooking for the kids), you watched Logan's face screw up slightly.
Who could blame him. You wouldn't eat it either.
"Coffee's fine," he mumbled, pouring another helping before small hands were shoving open the door to a variety of cereal. "Gotta get to my class."
You nodded. "History. Right."
He hummed, entirely aware of what occurred inside your chest. How you fidgeted slightly with the watch on your wrist, your eyes unable to remain stuck on his for longer than a few seconds at a time. Logan wasn't an idiot. He understood the tells long before you would dare to admit them out loud.
Clearing your throat, you set your now empty mug in the sink—shifting out of the way to give the students more room. Though the mornings began with enough chaos to keep you on your toes, it was seeing Logan that put you on edge.
The emotions that rifled through your mind mere moments after stepping into his proximity. You began to wonder if there was a way to fix this. Put a stop to how you pined (rather pathetically) over a man who clearly held no interest. You had half a mind to ask Charles for assistance—knowing full well you'd never get over the sheer mortification.
He might laugh—ask if you were in your right mind—but he'd never hold it over you like the others.
But that predicament would have to be settled at a later time. As of two minutes ago...you were late for your first class. The lecture notes were still buried in a stack on your desk; you made a mental note to pick them up on the way.
"Have a good class." Offering a smile, you moved to step out of his way.
Only for the timing (and quite possibly the universe itself) to lead towards you stumbling back from three students barreling towards the kitchen.
His hands latched onto your waist, steadying your movements with a soft grunt, and you tried your best not to choke on your spit. That sound. His touch. You wouldn't make it through the day without those small aspects of him entering your mind—distracting any viable insights you might have had on astronomy as a whole.
Did he have any clue what he did to you?
Or was he merely toying with you on purpose?
Glancing over your shoulder, you caught the small grin that appeared on his face. Barely there yet bright enough to punch a hole right through your chest. He stood tall behind you. A wall you could very well fall into without any worries. That alone left you clutching for some bits of your sanity—whatever remained now sparse enough to be considered laughable.
You tried not to think about the skin you caught small glimpses of in training last week. The sight haunted you for a week—fraying the edges of your mind and turning you to mush. For fucks sake you were a professor. You held enough intelligence to keep Charles Xavier on his toes when wrapped in conversation.
Yet Logan fucking Howlett managed to undo everything that made you the person you were before him now. He muddled what aptitude you had and rendered you entirely dumb.
Some days it left you seething—desperate for a chance to get back at him.
Other days you longed for its familiar warmth.
"You alright there bub?" he rasped, hands still pressed to your hips.
Fighting against your own mind, you plastered a smile on your lips—hoping he might ignore the flutter of your heart. "I'm fine! Thanks for that."
"Have a good day," he replied, his palm brushing the base of your spine as he stepped around you.
Chills clashed with a bewildering heat and curled around your stomach, teasing you with the prospect of his touch somewhere else. You watched his grin deepen, eyes dark with something you'd never before witness from the Wolverine. Want.
"Yeah..." You sucked in a breath, flustered beyond what you could contain in your own body. "You too."
He ducked out towards the hallway long before you had a chance to melt into the floor. A small chuckle resounding in the small confines of the kitchen. Slamming into your chest with enough power to leave you winded.
On your rush to the classroom you finalized your decision.
AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️
I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader
Summary: Some evenings come with threats.
Word Count: 4242
CW: Violence, explicit language, blood, threats
Series Masterlist
“I have no idea why you don’t like him.”
“Well, that makes two of us because I have no idea why you like him.”
You rolled your eyes at Jamie as you grabbed the coffee pot, then filled his cup while he pointed at you with his fork. The diner wasn’t very busy yet; you had the time to focus your full attention on him after taking a couple of orders to the tables, so you leaned on the counter, then stole a fry off his plate.
“Logan is nice.”
“Oh Logan is nice?” he repeated with a scoff. “He’s a giant ball of macho bullshit with no brains, that’s what he is.”
Your jaw dropped. “Oh come on Jamie!”
“I’m serious,” he said as you crossed your arms to shoot him a lighthearted glare.
“You know, I wasn’t like this when you introduced Nik to me.”
“Nik is my soulmate,” he said without hesitation. “I doubt the brute caveman is your soulmate.”
“He's not a caveman.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“He just…he doesn’t look very friendly,” you said in a rush to defend him. “I’m aware of it but he’s been to wars and stuff, so it’s kinda expected—”
“Which is another red flag, sunshine,” Jamie insisted. “When was he born, you said?”
“1832.”
“You have a crush on Dracula: Lumberjack Edition?”
“He doesn’t give off vampire vibes!”
“No, he gives off werewolf vibes,” he said. “And just in case a certain popular franchise has escaped your notice, they’re both equally bad.”
You scrunched your nose up at him, still leaning to the counter while he sipped his coffee.
“What happened to the guy Nik set you up with?”
“Oh that date was a disaster,” you said with a shrug. “He talked about himself the whole time. I barely got two words in.”
“I hate when they do that,” he grumbled, making you smile.
“I swear to you Logan is not a bad guy,” you said. “He’s the furthest thing from that—which by the way, we might be just arguing over nothing. I honestly doubt he sees me that way.”
He shot you a look of disbelief.
“Sunshine.”
“No I really don’t think—”
“A lot of people you cross paths with see you that way.”
“You and Julie both say that but that’s because you’re my best friends.”
“No, that’s because we see how people look at you,” he said. “Unlike you.”
“Yeah but Logan—”
“Logan will make a move on you one of these days, and I think you should turn him down when he does.”
You wiggled your brows. “It’d be a bit difficult to turn him down while I’m climbing him like a tree.”
“Fuck him once and leave him.”
“I already decided what our future cabin in the woods will be like.”
He let out a groan, burying his face into his hands, making you giggle.
“If Logan and I start dating and that’s a huge if, considering I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want me that way,” you said. “We’ll go on a double date with you and Nik, and you will see he’s actually the nicest guy in the entire world.”
“I hope he’s terrible in bed so that you will snap out of this,” he motioned at you as his phone vibrated, making him check it before he took a huge sip of his coffee, then stood up.
“Thank you so much for letting me borrow your car by the way,” he said. “It’s just that, Nik’s grandma needs a ride to the airport and…”
“It’s totally fine,” you said with a wave of your hand. “Don’t even mention it.”
“I’ll bring it tonight to your place.”
“Like I said, it’s totally fine,” you said. “Tell Nik’s grandma I said hi.”
“Will do,” he said, leaning over the counter to kiss your cheek, then walked out of the diner. You grabbed his plate and mug, but as soon as you entered the kitchen, the boss’ office door opened and he peeked his head out.
“Hey,” he said. “Bad news, Stacey can’t make it, she has the flu. Do you think you could close tonight?”
Shit.
Of course you had to close when you didn’t have a car.
You pressed your lips together, then forced yourself to smile before nodding your head.
“Yeah,” you said. “I can close tonight, no problem.”
*
Today was not going as planned, at all.
Creepy customers weren’t exactly new to you. You were pretty sure that everyone in service industry had to deal with them at one point or another, God knew you did. But usually, once you turned them down, they finished their meals and left without leaving you a tip.
They didn’t just sit there at the booth, staring at you for almost an hour.
Paul was by the grill as you walked into the kitchen and heaved a sigh, pressing your palms into your eyes, your heart beating in your throat.
It was fine. If he stayed there towards the closing time, you were just going to ask Paul to handle him, he was pretty good at that. He would deal with him, and afterwards you would just call a cab and go home and forget about today.
“You okay?” Paul asked and you dropped your hands, then nodded, clearing your throat.
“Um—yeah. Just tired I guess.”
“You sure?”
“Uh huh,” you said. “Slow day but I went to bed late, so…”
He grinned. “Your new boyfriend is keeping you up late?”
You let out a small laugh. “It’s nothing like that.”
“No?”
“No,” you said. “I don’t even know if he likes me that way to be honest.”
“What, he just came to drive you home the other day out of the goodness in his heart?”
You nodded again. “Yeah. He’s nice.”
“Honey, I’m terribly sorry to shatter your trust in the goodness of us men, but we usually don’t do that just for any girl.”
“Yeah but Logan is nice,” you insisted. “Not to mention, he’s out of my league.”
“Did you break all the mirrors in your place or something?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Paul.”
“Take it from a guy, Logan definitely wants to…” he wiggled his brows and you grabbed the table cloth, then tossed it at him for him to catch it in the air.
“That’s absolutely not true.”
“So your crush isn’t keeping you up, then what is?”
“Have you met me?” you asked him. “I run on stress.”
“You know what’s good for stress, right?” he asked with a smirk but as soon as he stole a look out of the small kitchen window into the diner, then pulled his brows together. “Did I Beetlejuice this motherfucker or something?”
“What?” you asked, turning your head to follow his line of sight, then gasped when you saw Logan walking to the counter to sit on a stool.
At first you were surprised at the relief that hit you out of nowhere so fast that it made your head spin, because normally whenever you were around Logan, your heart would be making flips, adrenaline rushing through you. It took you a moment to understand what it was, and once you did, you let out a breath.
It was safety.
Somehow, something in your body knew Logan being there meant you were completely safe.
You let out a breath and pushed open the door to step outside, then approached the counter.
“Hey,” you said, still slightly dizzy and Logan’s hazel eyes searched your face, his frown deepening.
“What’s wrong?”
“What?”
“I could hear your heartbeat from a mile away,” he said. “What’s going on?”
You blinked a couple of times. “You recognize my heartbeat?”
“Yeah,” he said as if it was completely normal. “And I smelled your fear. So what’s going on?”
“You what?” you asked. “I smell like fear?”
“Not normally, but you do right now,” he said impatiently. “What’s wrong?”
You shook your head, trying to focus as you stole a look at the booth the creep was still sitting in, Logan turning his head to follow your glances.
“He, um…” you said, lowering your voice. “He wanted to know when I get off work, and—and I said no and he’s been sitting there for an hour, just staring.”
Logan’s eyebrows rose as if he was surprised by the guy’s audacity.
“And I close the diner tonight,” you whispered. “And I gave the car to Jamie because his boyfriend’s grandma has been staying with them, and she’s really nice except for when she made that one comment about me giving it up too—” you stopped yourself. “Sorry. Um, I don’t—”
“How about I drive you home tonight?” he cut you off, making you pull your brows together.
“You’d do that?”
The look he gave you was almost reprimanding as if he was offended by you asking a question when the answer was clear as day and you let out a relieved breath.
“Logan I…” you trailed off. “I don’t know how to thank you, you’re—you’re amazing, really.”
“You have no reason to thank me, princess,” he said, making your heart skip a beat.
“I have many reasons.”
“No, and don’t worry about that asshole,” he said, nodding in the direction of the booth before turning to you, “but you need to call me when this sort of bullshit happens.”
“I don’t have your number,” you said and he paused for a moment as if he hadn’t thought about that.
“Right,” he said, taking his phone out of his pocket before holding it out for you and you smiled, then took it from him. You entered your phone number, then sent yourself a quick text before handing him the phone back.
“There,” you said with a grin. “Now we have each other’s numbers. Technology isn’t so bad, huh?”
He gave you a small smile and you cleared your throat.
“So what can I get you?” you asked, shifting your weight from one foot to other in excitement, and he frowned for a moment.
“Any chance you’ve got some of that pie from earlier?”
“Sure!” you said. “I’ll be right back.”
You went into the kitchen and made your way to the counter to get out the pie, then cut a big slice to put it on the plate.
“Look at that, your mood is fixed for some reason,” Paul teased you and you scrunched up your nose at him, then grabbed the chocolate sauce bottle. You carefully drew the shape on the plate, your tongue sticking out from the corner of your mouth.
“So let me guess, he’s still not your boyfriend?”
You gave him a chiding look. “Don’t.”
“Hey, I’m asking to see if I need to set you up with one of my friends.”
“Oh I’ve met your friends,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll respectfully decline, thank you.”
“They’re pretty cool guys.”
“I guess I’m not cool,” you told him and picked up the plate, then pushed open the kitchen door to make your way to Logan who was sitting on the stool by the counter.
“There you go,” you said and put the plate in front of him. “You may be curious about what that shape is on the plate is.”
“Was just about to ask you about that.”
“That’s a cigar,” you pointed at it. “And there’s an X over it because cigars suck. And that’s a frowny face right next to it because to repeat, cigars suck.”
“I see,” he said with a small grin. “A very clear message.”
“Isn’t it?” you asked, stealing a look at the booth to check on the creep but the booth was completely empty. You blinked a couple of times before you turned to Logan.
“Logan?”
“Hm?”
“Where did that man go?”
He grabbed his fork. “He left.”
“…Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
Your frown deepened. “Did you say something to him?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Just a small warning, that’s all.”
You could feel the relief filling your system as a smile warmed your face, making you bite at your lip.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” he muttered as he dug into the pie while you leaned against the counter, crossing your arms on it.
“So you were around then?” you asked. “When you heard my heartbeat?”
“Mm hm.”
“How do you know it’s my heartbeat and not someone else’s?”
“I recognize it,” he said, making you raise your brows.
“Is that—” you started but were distracted by a customer asking for a refill, so you grabbed the coffee pot, went to refill his coffee and walked behind the counter again. You pulled out a mug to fill Logan coffee, then put it in front of him.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Is that what you did during the French Revolution as well?”
“To repeat, I haven’t—” he started but then his lips curled into a smile upon seeing the teasing glint in your eyes. “Right. Seriously, what is this fascination with French Revolution?”
“I was weirdly into historical documentaries while pregnant with Theo,” you said. “Kinda stuck.”
“Ah.”
“Speaking of all that though, what was 19th century like?”
Logan took a sip of his coffee. “Foggy.”
“…Very descriptive, Dickens,” you said with a nod of your head. “Professor X should have you teach literature, you’d do wonders in prose.”
That made him chuckle before he took his fork into his mouth, and you smiled at him before walking to another table to take their order.
*
As the sky went dark and the closing time got closer, you realized that you hadn’t even been paying attention to the time. Paul had left an hour ago, so had all the customers but you were so lost in the excitement of spending time with Logan that if it weren’t for your phone vibrating on the counter, you wouldn’t have even noticed it was past the closing time.
“But yeah, he literally brought a kitten home from the street,” you said with a smile as you walked to get your coat. “The said kitten is now Nik and Jamie’s beloved son, but—what are you doing?”
Logan pulled out his wallet and motioned at the empty plate and the coffee mug, making you narrow your eyes.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Princess—”
“I will threaten you, I don’t care if you’re invincible and like 200 years old.”
He tilted his head. “You’re threatening me with threatening me?”
“Yes,” you said. “I will kill you with kindness and also this knife I found in the kitchen if you try to pay for it.”
“You’re terrible at threatening people.”
“I know, I’m working on it,” you muttered as you grabbed the plate and the mug to put it on the counter of the kitchen through the small window, and by the time you turned around he had already placed some cash on where the plate just was.
“Logan!”
“Technically I’m not paying for it, I’m leaving a tip.”
“That tip is more than the check.”
“Well that’s—” he started before his head whipped around, the playful smile wiping off of his face as a car pulled over in front of the diner. He gritted his teeth, making you pull your brows together.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” he said. “Just do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll step outside for a moment,” he said. “Stay here.”
Your heart started pounding in your chest. “What—what’s going on?”
“I swear to you, it’ll take only a moment,” he said, his voice completely calm as he stood up from the stool. “Don’t step outside, okay?”
“Hey asshole, I don’t appreciate being threatened!” A shout came from outside and you took a step back, panic making you dizzy upon recognizing the voice; it had to be the guy from earlier. “So I brought some friends! How about we show you some manners and then entertain your girl?”
You could feel your blood freezing in your veins and you grabbed your phone. “I’ll—I’ll call the cops—”
“Don’t,” Logan said. “They’ll only get in the way. I got it.”
“Logan…” you started but a metallic noise reached your ears as metal claws sprouted from his knuckles, making your eyes widen.
“What…”
“Stay here.”
“I-but—” you stammered but he had already walked out of the door, making you cover your mouth. Fear pounded through your system, your eyes filling with tears as you sniffled, then grabbed the knife on the counter and took a step to the closed door, but blood splattered over the huge window, soon followed by the panicked yelling of the newcomers. Your stomach churned as you swallowed thickly, then you wiped at your eyes and rushed to the door with the knife in your hand before you swung it open.
The view you were presented with looked like something out of a movie. Two of the guys writhing on the ground, one of the crawling to the car while the other looked like he was crying. The man from earlier was also on the ground, holding onto his face but you could see the blood dripping through his fingers as Logan retracted his claws, then held him from the back of his jacket and lifted him up.
“You’ve got something to say to her?” he growled, and the man let out a sob, then lowered his hands, your breath catching in your throat upon seeing the gashes on his face.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he managed to whimper through pain and Logan dropped him on his face unceremoniously, then turned to you.
“What’s the knife for?” he asked and you blinked a couple of times, forcing yourself to drag your gaze from the man.
“I was coming to save you,” you told Logan, making the corners of his mouth twitch.
“Yeah?” he asked as if humoring you and you nodded, then took a look at the men on the ground.
“Come on,” Logan said, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Let me take you home.”
You felt like you were in a haze as you rushed inside to put the knife back, grabbed your phone off the counter, then shut down the lights and closed the door behind you, locked it and turned to Logan again.
“…Shouldn’t we call someone?”
“Nope.”
“But what if you get in trouble because of—”
“I won’t,” Logan answered, gently leading you to the motorcycle, his hand on the small of your back. He put the helmet on your head and you got behind him on the bike, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold onto him tight.
The road to your home felt almost surreal. The panic still hadn’t left your system yet, your mind going overdrive with everything that could have gone wrong, or would go wrong if those creeps had decided to press charges on Logan. Even though he didn’t look worried at all, you were beginning to think you worried enough for the both of you.
And if something had happened to him, if they had gotten to him before he could beat them—
No.
You couldn’t even bring yourself to think about it.
You hadn’t even realized that your cheeks were wet with tears when he pulled over in front of your house, his head turning to the side when he heard you sniffling. You swung your leg over the seat to sit sideways on it and he got off the motorcycle to help you take off the helmet but as soon as he did, you pressed your palms on your eyes, biting inside your cheek to keep yourself under control.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, sniffling again as you lowered your hands before a shaky sigh left your lips. He lifted your chin with a curled finger, your eyes shooting up to his, your heart skipping a beat as he gently wiped at the tear under your eye.
“I’m sorry for scaring you off.”
The change in his tone was impossible to miss. That growl that had spilled from his lips while talking to that man was completely gone and now his deep voice was soft like honey, making you feel all warm inside. You blinked back the tears and shook your head fervently.
“You didn’t,” you said. “That’s not what’s happening.”
“But you’re scared.”
“Not of you,” you said, shaking your head again as you bit at your nail. “For you.”
That made him pull his brows together in confusion and you let out a breath.
“Logan, there were three people there,” you insisted. “They could’ve easily overpowered you—”
“That’s impossible.”
“They could’ve killed you!”
“Also impossible,” he said, a small chuckle escaping from his lips as if the idea was too absurd. “I told you before. I heal.”
“I’m sure there are exceptions to that, if they came up with a way—”
“Unless those guys were keeping a fully functioning high technology lab underneath the diner, they couldn’t,” he said. “Me getting hurt was not a possibility there, and the only reason they’re alive is because you were there. That’s it.”
You sniffled again.
“But did I make you betray a principle or something?”
“What?”
“Because the secretary of Mutant Affairs held a press conference the other day and he—”
“Hank?”
“Hank McCoy, yes. You know him?”
“Yeah, we’re friends.”
“Well, he talked about how mutants have this principle—”
A dry chuckle climbed up his throat.
“I don’t have any principles when it comes to assholes like those,” he said, a shadow crossing his handsome face. “But nobody gets to hurt you or threaten you. That’s the principle here.”
Your head was spinning again for a completely different reason and you took a trembling breath, stealing a look at the building behind you before looking up to his hazel eyes, your heart beating in your throat.
“Would you like to—” you started but before you could invite him to your apartment, a car flashed its headlights at you two, making you turn your head to look at it.
Oh.
Your car.
Jamie was in the driver’s seat and he frowned slightly before he stopped the car and Nik leaned out from the open passenger seat window.
“Hey Sunshine!” he said. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”
You closed your eyes for a moment before opening them again, then licked your lips.
“It’s on mute, I didn’t hear,” you said. “Uh, Logan, this is Nik, Jamie’s boyfriend. Nik, this is Logan, my…my friend.”
Nik gave him a grin as he eyed him up and down.
“Nice to meet you Logan,” he said before turning to you. “Get in, we’re taking you out to dinner. Your friend can come too if he’d like.”
You glanced up at Logan, biting at your lip and he took a deep breath, then cleared his throat as if trying to snap out of a haze.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I am,” you said. “I just didn’t know they were coming—but um, would you like to join us? Nik is an expert when it comes to restaurants, he knows all the great ones.”
Logan shook his head.
“I’d better go,” he said. “It’ll be easier to track those guys down while they’re still bleeding.”
You blinked a couple of times. “What are you gonna do?”
“I’ll make sure they understand they shouldn’t cross paths with you ever again,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “That’s all.”
You hesitated only for a moment before you stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck to hug him, resting your forehead against his hard chest, the scent of pines and smoke surrounding you in the most pleasant way. He cradled the back of your head with one hand while his other arm sneaked around your waist and he nuzzled his nose into your hair to inhale deeply, making your heartbeat faster. Even though you felt like you could happily spend your whole life in his arms, you knew you had to step back especially with Jamie and Nik right there, so you slowly pulled back to look up at him. His hazel gaze went down to your lips for a moment before snapping back to your eyes and you swallowed thickly.
“Thanks,” you managed to say. “For…you know.”
“No problem, princess,” he said softly and stepped back as well, then nodded in Jamie’s direction before getting on the motorcycle.
“Be careful,” he said and you let out a small laugh.
“Likewise,” you said before he drove off and you shifted your weight before making your way to the car. You opened the door and got in the backseat, then slammed the door shut as Nik turned to look at you over his shoulder.
“Hi honey.”
“Hi Nik. Hi Jamie.”
“So that was Logan?” Nik asked and Jamie scoffed as he started the car.
“Yep. That’s the asshole I told you about.”
“Well, neither of you told me he was that hot,” Nik pointed out, grinning at you. “Did we interrupt something?”
You wiped at your nose, then shook your head. “Um, no.”
Jamie took a look at you from the rear mirror, then frowned.
“If that asshole made you cry, I swear—”
“He didn’t,” you said in a rush and buckled your seat belt. “I’ll tell you on the way. What are we eating?”
Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.
Word Count: 24.3k+
Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader
Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.
this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.
reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.
i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)
warnings: none!
The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.
A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.
It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.
Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.
You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.
Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”
“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.
“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”
You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.
"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."
"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."
You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.
Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"
"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.
Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."
You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."
Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.
"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.
He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."
"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.
Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.
"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.
You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."
She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.
"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"
You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."
Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.
As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.
Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"
You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"
"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.
You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."
As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.
You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.
Not that you’d ever admit that to her.
---
Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.
So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.
Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.
You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.
"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."
Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.
You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.
He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"
"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.
Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."
You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"
He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."
You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."
His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."
He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.
Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."
He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."
Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."
Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.
"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."
He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."
"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."
He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."
You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.
---
The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.
As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.
"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.
You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."
"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"
Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?
"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.
"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.
You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"
"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"
You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."
"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.
"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."
Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."
You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."
Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."
"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.
---
The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.
During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.
"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"
She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."
You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.
"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.
She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."
You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.
"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"
Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."
"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."
Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.
---
The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.
"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.
"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.
Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.
"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.
"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.
Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.
Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."
You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."
Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."
As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.
Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.
---
Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.
It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.
You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.
You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.
"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."
You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.
"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"
Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."
"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."
He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."
You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."
He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.
You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"
Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."
"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."
Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."
"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."
He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.
"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"
Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."
You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."
"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.
You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.
"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."
"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.
As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.
---
Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.
A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.
The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.
He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”
Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.
He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.
After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”
Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”
Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”
“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.
Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”
Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.
“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.
Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.
“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.
“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”
Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.
“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.
Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”
Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.
A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.
You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.
The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.
"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”
The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”
You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”
The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”
"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."
She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."
“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.
The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”
You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."
As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”
“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”
You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.
Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.
“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.
“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.
“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.
Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.
“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.
Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.
Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”
He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.
“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.
You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”
“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.
You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”
"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.
You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."
"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"
"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”
Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."
You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."
Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.
"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."
He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."
That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."
"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."
You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."
Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.
You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.
"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."
You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."
He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."
You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.
---
During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.
The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.
A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.
“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”
You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”
Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”
"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.
Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."
You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"
Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."
"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."
"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."
You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"
"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.
"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."
Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."
You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"
"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."
"I have a life," you protested.
Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"
You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"
"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."
"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.
Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."
You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."
Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."
You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."
"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."
You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.
Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."
Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."
You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"
She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."
Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."
You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?
As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.
---
Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.
Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.
"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.
You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."
He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."
You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."
Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.
Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."
Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."
"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."
Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."
You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"
He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."
That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.
"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."
For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.
Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."
You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."
Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."
Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.
"Logan, I—"
Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."
You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."
He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."
As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.
---
Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.
Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.
The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.
You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.
You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.
“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.
“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”
Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”
Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”
You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”
Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.
“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”
Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”
Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”
You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”
Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”
She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”
“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”
There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.
“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.
He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”
You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”
Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”
You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.
“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.
You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.
“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”
Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”
Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”
She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.
You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”
He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”
Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.
Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.
He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.
“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.
Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”
Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”
“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.
“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.
Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.
Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”
Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.
---
The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.
After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.
Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.
You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.
The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.
“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”
“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.
“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”
Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.
“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.
You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.
Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.
“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”
She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.
As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.
“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”
She shrugged. “Resting.”
You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.
Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.
“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.
She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.
“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”
Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.
As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.
She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.
You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”
Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.
As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.
When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”
Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.
You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”
She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.
“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”
Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.
You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.
“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”
Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.
You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.
Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.
You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”
She shook her head. “No.”
You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.
You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.
After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”
You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”
She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”
A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”
Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.
You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”
She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”
You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”
Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.
Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.
“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”
Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.
You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”
She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.
“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.
Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.
As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.
“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”
Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”
You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”
---
After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?
You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.
When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.
“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.
Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.
Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.
Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.
“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”
She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.
“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”
Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.
“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.
Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.
Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.
Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”
Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”
Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.
“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.
“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.
Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”
Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”
Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”
Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”
Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.
Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.
He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.
But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.
---
A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.
Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.
“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.
Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.
Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”
That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.
Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”
Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”
Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”
Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.
“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.
Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.
“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.
Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.
“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.
You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”
Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.
“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”
Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.
“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.
Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.
“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.
“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.
You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”
She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”
The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.
Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”
You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”
A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”
Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.
Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.
As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.
“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”
She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.
Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.
You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.
As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.
You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”
Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”
You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”
Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.
“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”
Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.
Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.
You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”
She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.
You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.
---
You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.
So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.
Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”
You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”
“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”
“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”
"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."
You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”
“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”
“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”
“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”
“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.
“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”
“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”
You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”
Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”
You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”
“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”
You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”
“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”
You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”
She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”
You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”
Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”
You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”
Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”
She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.
You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”
Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”
You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”
“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”
Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.
You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”
You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”
Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”
There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…
“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”
Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”
She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”
“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”
Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”
“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”
She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”
Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”
“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.
You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?
You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.
You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.
“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.
Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?
---
That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.
You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.
“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”
You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.
“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”
His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”
You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”
“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”
“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”
You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”
He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”
You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”
“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”
As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.
When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.
“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”
He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”
“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”
Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”
“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”
He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.
“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.
Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”
“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”
“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”
There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.
Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”
He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”
Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”
You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”
He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”
You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”
Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.
“Logan?”
He paused, his back to you.
“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”
Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.
“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”
He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.
Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.
But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.
Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.
---
You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.
But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.
It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.
You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.
The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.
“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.
Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.
You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.
“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.
“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”
You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”
Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”
You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”
Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”
You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”
The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.
“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.
“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”
You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.
Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.
You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.
You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.
“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.
Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”
You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.
“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.
“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”
Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.
The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.
As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.
“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”
Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”
“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”
Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.
Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”
“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”
You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”
Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”
You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”
Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”
Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.
“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.
“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”
Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”
Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”
You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”
Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”
Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”
“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.
Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”
She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”
You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”
Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”
Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”
You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”
He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”
“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”
Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.
“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.
Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.
After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”
Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.
You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.
Laura had probably planned this all along.
You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.
Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.
You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.
A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.
Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.
“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.
He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”
You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”
Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”
You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.
“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.
Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”
The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.
“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”
The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.
But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”
Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”
Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”
Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.
“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.
Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”
Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.
Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.
The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.
“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”
A beat passed. Then another.
“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.
Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”
But it was something. It was a lot, actually.
You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.
Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”
Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.
Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.
---
You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.
This was new.
You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.
Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.
You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.
In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.
The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.
“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.
You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.
“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”
“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”
You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.
Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”
You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”
He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”
Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”
“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”
Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”
You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.
Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.
“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”
“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.
Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”
You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.
Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”
You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”
Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”
You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”
She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”
Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.
“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”
Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”
You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.
“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”
Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?
Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.
“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.
You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”
“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”
You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.
“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.
Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.
“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”
Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”
You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.
“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”
Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.
Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.
Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”
Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”
Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”
“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.
The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.
“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”
Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”
You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.
Smart kid.
Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.
"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"
You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."
Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."
Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"
Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."
You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."
Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."
"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.
Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.
Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"
You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."
For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."
You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."
Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."
You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"
Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."
"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.
Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."
You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.
Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.
Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."
"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.
You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.
"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."
Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.
You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.
You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.
And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.
---
The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.
There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.
Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.
“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.
You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”
Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”
You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.
“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”
As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.
Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.
You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.
Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.
When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.
“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.
Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”
“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.
“Something like that.”
Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”
You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.
“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”
Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”
Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.
“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”
Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”
You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”
“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.
Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.
You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”
Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”
Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”
Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”
You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.
“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”
Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”
Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.
As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.
"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.
You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."
Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."
"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."
Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."
Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.
"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.
"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.
The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.
"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.
Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."
"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.
"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.
"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."
"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.
Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.
"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."
Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.
"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.
You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."
Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.
"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.
Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."
"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.
"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.
Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"
It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.
By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.
"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.
"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."
Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."
You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"
Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.
As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.
"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."
Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."
"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."
"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."
Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."
There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.
"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."
As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."
"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."
---
It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.
Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.
"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."
You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.
"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."
Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.
As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.
“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.
Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.
You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”
“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”
Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.
You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”
Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.
“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”
Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.
Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.
“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”
Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.
Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.
“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”
Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”
Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”
“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.
You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.
“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.
Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”
Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”
Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”
He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.
“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.
There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.
“Logan, I—”
“Y/N, I—”
You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.
“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.
You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”
“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.
You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”
Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.
"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."
You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.
"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."
Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.
"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."
Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.
"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."
Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.
"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."
Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.
Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.
You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.
“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”
Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.
You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.
And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”
Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.
“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.
Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.
Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.
His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.
Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.
“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.
“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”
You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.
After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.
You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”
His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.
For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.
Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.
James Logan Howlett / Wolverine x Female Mutant Reader
Summary: The story of James Logan Howlett and Y/N: a love that burns throughout time.
Warnings: Every chapter will have its own warnings but here are some overall warnings: nakedness, talk of sex / sexual innuendos (no actual smut), torture, abuse, death of main character(s), serious injuries, canon-level violence.
Notes: I do not do taglists. I just encourage everyone to follow and interact! I'm super excited for this series! Likes, reblogs, comments and asks are encouraged and very appreciated!
old man!logan who lets you take care of him… i just want to give him a bath and scrub his hair and cuddle him until he finally relaxes
i already kind of talked about this here!!!!! i think it would really be such a symbolic part of the day for him, because no one’s ever really taken care of him— he’s been on his own his whole life, keeping everyone at a distance to protect the walls he’s built around his heart, never really allowing himself to truly let go; he’s lived his whole life looking over his shoulder, doing the bare necessities when it comes to his own comfort in case he needed to flee, really just surviving instead of living. so to have someone like you, although much later in his life, who insists on taking care of him? it would really mean the world to him. i think he’d be a little reluctant at first, awkward, almost embarrassed to give into the comfort you offer to provide— he still can’t wrap his head around the fact that you want to care for him; having you be so hellbent on doing things for him really would change his entire perspective on both himself and the world— your love makes him ache in ways that he never thought he would, but it’s such a beautiful, divine kind of pain; the type one gets when their heart feels too full with love— the type of affection that has him physically clutching at his heart because it feels like it might burst out of his chest. with you, logan doesn’t only allow himself to love, but he also learns what it feels like to be loved.
AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️
I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader
Summary: A ray of light shines through the clouds.
Word Count: 4242 (to everyone who might be wondering why every chapter is turning 4k+... it's the martini I mean it baby)
CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language, mentions of sex
Series Masterlist
Logan was no stranger to the feeling of restlessness.
For him, it was around every corner; impossible to get away from. Even now, having just returned from the latest mission Charles had sent him on, he couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal, desperate to get out.
He gritted his teeth, slamming the door open to enter his room before he unzipped his suit and took it off, tossing it to the corner of the room. After putting his jeans and white shirt on, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Scott and Jean were already there, perched on the stools while Storm sat on the kitchen island, busy with a file. Rogue was rummaging through the fridge and Bobby was making a sandwich on the counter, still in his suit.
“Do we still not have beer in this place?” Logan asked to no one in particular and Storm looked over her shoulder.
“This place hasn’t stopped being a school since the last time you asked, so no.”
“Great,” he murmured. “Soda it is.”
“It’ll be good for your health,” Rogue said with a grin, then tossed him a bottle which he caught mid-air. He extended his arm in Bobby’s direction without a word and Bobby touched the bottle, making it ice cold.
“Thanks,” he grumbled and pulled himself a seat.
“Why are you in a bad mood?” Storm asked with a curious look in her eyes. “The mission was a success.”
“Is it because that guy almost stabbed you?” Bobby asked, making him frown.
“He didn’t almost stab me,” Logan said as Rogue closed the fridge, nibbling on a slice of pizza.
“When people stab you, do you get annoyed?” Bobby asked and Logan raised his brows.
“More annoyed than right now? Nah, it’s about the same.”
“To repeat, why are you so—” Jean started but stopped talking mid-sentence, a smile pulling at her lips. “Ah. I see.”
“What?”
“We were supposed to come back from this mission around afternoon,” she said. “And it’s Monday.”
Shit.
“Jean, stay out of my head.”
Jean grinned at him. “Oh I’m not in your head. Don’t need to be.”
Scott looked between them. “Is this about Theo’s mom?”
The impact of the simple question was almost instant on the small crowd in the kitchen. Storm immediately put the file in her lap aside to look at him, Bobby stopped making his sandwich and looked up from the jar of peanut butter he had stuck the knife in, and Rogue’s jaw dropped.
Great.
“Wait, seriously?” Bobby asked. “You and her—”
“There’s nothing,” Logan cut him off, forcing himself not to let his thoughts drift to her. “Scott has no idea what he’s talking about as usual.”
“You’re just pissed off because you’ll have to wait until Friday to see her again.”
Logan scoffed. “That has nothing to do with the situation.”
“I think you two would make a cute couple,” Storm said and Jean nodded.
“Oh absolutely.”
“Stop it, both of you,” Logan said with a frown. “And for your information, I could see her whenever I want.”
“I don’t think they’d make a good couple to be honest,” Bobby interfered, “I mean don’t get me wrong but you’re…” he motioned at him, making Logan raise his brows. “You.”
“Nothing gets past your observation skills, does it?” Logan deadpanned while Rogue suppressed a laugh and took another bite of her pizza.
“Opposites attract is definitely a thing.”
Logan opened his mouth to retort, but was instantly distracted when he heard familiar footsteps coming closer to the kitchen, making him look over his shoulder. It wasn’t long until Theo appeared at the door in his pajamas, making Rogue let out an “aw!”.
“Hi Theo.”
“Hi Miss Rogue!” Theo gave them a happy smile. “And Mr. Logan and Miss Storm and Mr. Cyclops and Miss Jean and Mr. Ice Man!”
Even Logan had to admit, the kid was adorable. Theo pushed his glasses up, blinking up at them while holding a huge tin container to his chest as the small crowd in the kitchen greeted him back, making his smile bigger.
“Hi bub,” Logan said and Theo waved at him with one hand while still clutching to the tin with the other.
“What are you doing up at this hour Theo?” Storm asked and Theo looked down at the tin container, then up at them again.
“Um—” he said. “Do you know my friend Ralph?”
Bobby tilted his head. “The fish guy?”
“Yeah!” Theo nodded fervently before pushing his glasses up again. “So he told me his mom never baked him cookies, and—I didn’t know moms didn’t bake cookies because mine does whenever I feel bad, so I told my mom about that and um…yesterday she baked cookies for me to bring here,” he said, pressing his index finger on the tin as if to emphasize his point. “Everyone had one but you weren’t around, Professor X said you were busy, and I stayed up late so that you could have some cookies as well.”
She had baked cookies.
For the whole school.
Logan had to remind himself it was the middle of the night so he couldn’t in fact go all the way to her apartment to see her and kiss her and—
Focus.
He had to focus.
But for fuck’s sake, it was almost agonizing at this point. She was actually, genuinely nice, as if it wasn’t enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she was, how sweet she smelled, and just how much he wanted to—
Not going there, he forced himself to think. Focus.
Theo made his way to the kitchen island and stood up on his tiptoes to place the tin on the island, making Jean press a hand on her chest and Storm smile softly. Scott ruffled his hair, making him smile up at him.
“Thank you, Theo,” Jean said. “Please tell your mom we thank her as well.”
“Of course!” Theo said, his voice cheerful. “Good night!”
“Good night bub.”
“Good night Theo!”
“I’m so going to babysit when you two get together,” Rogue said through her teeth as if she was hanging by a thread while Bobby rushed to the container to open it the moment Theo left the kitchen. “I swear to God, Logan—”
“No, I agree with Bobby,” Scott said. “She’s too nice for him.”
Bobby pointed at Scott with the cookie he was holding while Logan flipped him and Storm grabbed two cookies, tossed one to Rogue and turned to Jean.
“I’ll fill Charles in about the mission, are you coming?”
“Sure,” she said and grabbed a cookie as well. “I’ll see you guys later.”
With that they both walked out of the kitchen, Storm talking about what an adorable kid Theo was before Bobby popped the cookie into his mouth, then let out a moan.
“Jesus this is too good!” he said. “No I’m serious Logan, she’s like actually pretty and nice and bakes cookies. When was the last time you did anything nice for us?”
“I saved your life like half an hour ago, dipshit,” Logan pointed out, making Rogue laugh. “And every word out of your mouth makes me think I should’ve sat that one out.”
Scott chuckled and took out a cookie out of the container, then nodded at Logan.
“Do you want to have one or do you want to go ring shopping—” he started but he was cut off when one of Bobby’s friends, Caleb, if Logan wasn’t mistaken, entered the kitchen.
“Storm said there were cookies?”
“Over there.” Bobby motioned at the kitchen island. “Theo’s mom made them.”
“Oh she's such a babe,” Caleb said as he reached out for the container, making Logan turn to him while Rogue made a face. “The things I’d do, seriously, the milf of my—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence when Logan grabbed his arm and slammed it to the counter while Rogue exclaimed “Ew, Caleb!” and Scott tilted his head.
“Logan,” he said, his voice completely calm. “We’re not slamming students to flat surfaces.”
Logan gritted his teeth, glaring at Caleb whose heartbeat got much faster, the unmistakable scent of fear lingering in the air.
“Caleb, right?” he growled. “Listen Caleb, the next time I hear you talk about her, or even look at her in any way,” He unsheathed his claws, causing Caleb to let out a whine. “I will rip your fucking tongue out. Do you understand?”
Caleb nodded fervently again and Logan clenched his jaw, then pulled his hand back and Bobby grabbed Caleb by his shirt.
“It’s his first time in public, that’s why he is like this,” he said helpfully, dragging him out of the kitchen. “You fucking dumbass….”
“Sure,” Scott said after a beat, turning to Logan. “There’s nothing going on between you and her.”
Logan sipped his soda. “Shut up.”
Scott held up his hands, mocking surrender.
“Just something to think about,” he said with a smirk. “I’m gonna go find Jean. Good night.”
“And I’m gonna find Bobby and smack Caleb,” Rogue said, pushing herself off the counter. “Good night Logan.”
“Good night kid,” Logan said as they both left the kitchen and he narrowed his eyes at the container on the kitchen island before making his way to it. He grabbed a cookie to bite into it, his eyes closing as the sweetness crumbled inside his mouth, making him let out a breath.
A scene flashed before his eyes, something out of a dream; him in a cabin in the woods with her in his arms. He buried his nose into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent into his lungs as he pressed her warm body against his, her heartbeat getting faster before he forced himself to open his eyes again, taking a deep breath.
“Keep it together,” he muttered to himself and popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth, then pushed himself off the counter and made his way upstairs.
*
Throughout the week, it was one mission after the other. He was beginning to think Charles was doing it on purpose, and when Friday finally arrived, as much as he hated to admit, he could barely focus on anything else.
“Come on, to the lake!” one of the boys said as he walked past them. “Ralph, where’s Theo?”
“Professor X wanted to see him, and I think he left already,” he heard the boy say. “Ugh, I was gonna show him this new fish in the lake! It’s huge!”
Left?
No, he was still around. Logan could hear his happy chatter with someone through the chatter of the crowd but her scent wasn’t anywhere near so he followed Theo’s voice downstairs, stepping out of the building before—
“Have a nice weekend Mr. Logan!”
Logan’s head whipped around as Theo waved at him, then looked up to the man beside him as he took off his backpack so that the man could take it from him. “Uncle Jamie, this is Mr. Logan!”
What the fuck?
“Who the hell are you?” Logan asked the brunette, making him frown at the apparent hostility in his voice, but he didn’t dwell on it.
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Jamie. I’m picking up the little guy today.”
“No you’re not,” Logan scoffed. “Do we even know who you are?”
“You don’t, but the school does,” Jamie said after a beat. “I appreciate the caution but his mother called Professor Xavier beforehand to let him know, so it’s okay.”
“Uncle Jamie, Mr. Logan helped mommy out with the car when it broke down, and he drove her home the other day, I heard mommy talk about it with auntie Julie!”
Jamie tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “…How helpful of him.”
“And Uncle Jamie is the hero who saved me when I was in mommy’s belly, Mr. Logan!” Theo introduced him, making Logan raise his brows.
“Is that right?”
“I was an intern, Theo was a premature birth.”
“And you do years long follow up with all your patients or is this one a special case?” Logan asked as a dry smile twitched Jamie’s mouth before he clicked his tongue.
“It is,” he said. “I could ask you the same question though. Do you drive every parent home, or is this one a special case?”
Okay no, he did not like this prick.
However, Theo was right there so he had to mind his language, for his sake.
“You know what Theo, I’m pretty sure I just heard your friends say they were going to the lake,” Logan said, making Theo’s eyes widen. “They were talking about this huge fish. Do you want to go with Uncle Jamie or do you want to stick around a little to see that fish?”
Theo didn’t even wait for Jamie’s answer as he darted for the yard, and Jamie gritted his teeth, shaking his head slightly.
“Unbelievable…” he muttered. “Are you even a teacher here?”
“Sometimes,” Logan said with a shrug of his shoulders and Jamie hummed, then took out his phone and touched the screen before taking it to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.
“Hi Jamie!”
It was almost funny, how her soft voice managed to put Logan in a better mood instantly but he tried not to think about it.
“Hi sunshine,” Jamie said, making Logan frown. “Listen, Theo wants to hang out with his friends a little more. Should I wait or…?”
“No no, you go back to the hospital,” she said. “I’ll leave in like an hour or so anyway. It’s a good thing that he’s socializing so um—just, let him.”
“You sure?”
“Oh yeah,” she said. “Thank you again Jamie, really.”
“No problem honey.”
“You can follow the way back,” Logan said, nodding in the direction of the gates when Jamie hung up and he heaved a sigh.
“I know your type, you know?”
“I doubt it.”
“No no, I do,” Jamie said, motioning at him. “This whole tough guy bullshit isn’t gonna impress her.”
A cocky smirk curled his lips. “What, are you threatened?”
Jamie scoffed a laugh.
“That’s not what this is,” he said. “It’s just that I’ve known you for five minutes and I can already tell she deserves better than you.”
That—
That was true actually. Even Logan knew that; hell, he had been trying to make himself understand that ever since he had met her, but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t.
Knowing it wasn’t enough to make him stop thinking about her.
“Guess you and I have one thing in common then,” Logan stated. “But I seem to be making better progress in a month than you have in years, huh?”
Jamie shook his head.
“See you around,” he said before he walked away and Logan took a deep breath, then ran a hand through his hair.
“Asshole…” he muttered and made his way through the yard to keep an eye on Theo in case he got too close to the lake.
*
The strange thing wasn’t that he smelled her the minute she arrived.
It was what her scent did to him.
As soon as the familiar sweetness tickled his nostrils, his head snapped up and he looked around, then got up from the bench he was sitting on, painfully aware of his heartbeat getting faster. He strode through the yard, away from where Theo and his friends were running around and towards the gates, where her scent was stronger.
He couldn’t help but notice she didn’t smell like him.
Jamie.
He had no idea why he was getting so worked up on the existence of that asshole, but somehow that detail alone managed to soothe the hot jealousy running through his veins. He knew Jamie had a point, he had been saying the same thing to himself ever since he met her, yet it didn’t mean…
There she was.
He didn’t know how she managed to look everyone and everything else in shadows where she herself was the only thing illuminated as if she had her own ray of sunlight falling over her. The mere sight of her was enough to make him stare at her as she waved at him, her heart pacing in her chest as soon as her eyes fell on him, the pleasant sound nearly deafening in his ears—
No.
He had to focus.
Logan had seen wild animals in captivity before. How they would be straining at their leash, how they would be slamming against their cage, nearly blind with the desire to be let loose and lately, whenever she was around, she had the same effect on him.
“Hey stranger!” she said with a bright smile as she reached him. “Are you okay? You seem…tense.”
Shit.
“Me?” Logan asked. “Nah. Hi.”
Good string of sentences there.
“Hi,” she said, looking up at him. “Look at that, you’re here.”
Logan pulled his brows together. “I live here.”
“No no, I meant—” her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening at the misunderstanding. “Right, of course you do. It’s just that, when I dropped Theo off on Monday you weren’t here, not that I noticed—disclaimer, I definitely did notice in case it has escaped your notice—but you know, I figured you were busy, and then Theo said…”
Alright, why did he find this cute?
Since when did he find things cute?
“And he must’ve seen someone’s suit or something because now he wants one, and I told him he can have one for Halloween but guess who didn’t think that through, because now I’ll have to tell Julie, she’s the arts and crafts person to go to in a situation like this. I’m just going to bribe her with cookies which is everyone’s favorite payment method I feel like …”
Don’t kiss her.
Do not kiss her.
A part of him wanted to go check with Charles to make sure he wasn’t fucking with his mind, to make sure she wasn’t a figment of his imagination because this wasn’t normal. Having her within his reach, all he could think about was pulling her closer, kissing her and taking her to his bed upstairs, to taste her until the only thing left in her mind was his name, her body trembling, her soft voice hoarse while she begged for—
“And I’ll stop talking now because you’re giving me that look again, do I have something on my face?”
Fuck.
She was looking up at him with a small frown pinching her brows together so he shook his head and said the first thing he could come up with:
“I tried the cookies.”
…Yeah no, Charles had to be fucking with his mind to make him this tongue tied.
“Did you?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you like it?” she asked, her heartbeat getting faster like she was nervous to hear the answer and Logan nodded his head.
“It was amazing,” he said, making her let out a breath, a happy light shining in her eyes.
“Really?”
“I’m serious,” Logan said, “The best cookie I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Aw, that’s wonderful!” she said, smiling wide. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who doesn’t like chocolate chip cookies, so when Theo mentioned his friend I figured— do you know where he is by the way?”
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
“By the lake with his friends,” he said. “Come on, I’ll take you.”
“Finally in the welcoming tour committee huh?” she joked as she started walking beside him and he chuckled.
“Only for you.”
“Much appreciated,” she said. “I was gonna come earlier actually but there was this thing at work, it was a disaster.”
“What happened?”
“Well, the grill stopped working around the lunch hour,” she said. “They fixed it but waiting for food makes people very grumpy. There was this one customer, he…” she made a face, making him frown.
“What?”
“He was in a very bad mood but thankfully he calmed down when I gave him ice tea on the house.”
Logan shook his head slightly. “You should stop being so nice to people, princess.”
That seemed to make her heart skip a beat, causing a small smile to curl his lips while her hand shot up to her mouth for her to bite at her nail.
“In my defense, that’s not being nice, that’s just being in the service industry,” she mumbled. “Good thing it was fixed fast though.”
Logan hummed.
“So…” he trailed off. “Uncle Jamie then?”
“Oh, you’ve met him?”
“I was around,” Logan lied through his teeth. “When he came here.”
“Yeah, Theo adores him,” she said, nodding her head. “Jamie saved his life when he was an intern—fun fact, some doctors don’t take you seriously when you’re pregnant at 18 and completely clueless, so I knew something was wrong but he was the only one who believed me. He got chewed out by his supervisor but he ended up saving Theo’s life.”
Logan frowned, distracted from the Jamie issue for a moment.
“His father wasn’t there?”
“Nope,” she said with a bitter smile. “He was uh…busy.”
What the fuck?
“Do you know where he is now?” Logan asked, anger shooting through him and she let out a laugh.
“He’s in the past,” she said. “And he should stay there.”
He wanted to insist, he really did. The guy sounded like the type of asshole who really needed to get his ass beaten, but before he could ask, she had already changed the subject.
“But yeah, Jamie is amazing,” she said. “He’s very protective, he’s like the brother I never had.”
He bit back the pleased smile threatening to pull at his lips at the second part of that sentence and hummed.
“Yeah?” he said. “Does he know that?”
“Hm?”
“That he’s the brother you never had?”
She blinked up at him in confusion, her brows pinching together before a look of realization downed on her beautiful face, her heartbeat getting faster.
“He does,” she said, nodding her head. “So does his boyfriend.”
…Ah.
He had misunderstood the situation.
That had to be what Jamie meant when he had said “That’s not what this is,” he wasn’t trying to get with her, he was genuinely cautious about strangers such as himself. That whole exchange made sense now, considering the story about him saving Theo’s life; he had met her when she was alone, and had been trying to keep her and Theo safe ever since.
Of course.
“And he’s in a very happy relationship with him,” she added. “Unlike—you know, unlike me who’s not in a relationship at all, totally single. Not that you asked but it’s like…it’s like general trivia about me, and—whoa, today is a hot day isn’t it? Because honestly, it wasn’t this hot when I left the car—”
“Mom!”
“Oh thank God,” she muttered as she turned her head to look at Theo who was running at full speed to them and Logan bit back his grin as Theo reached them and flung himself into her arms.
“I missed you bean!” she said, hugging him tight and kissing the top of his hair. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah!” Theo said, his glasses slipping as he nodded fervently and she pushed them up again with a fond look on her face. The sight sent a warmth through Logan’s chest, a smile he didn’t even notice curling his lips. “We saw a big fish!”
“Really?” she gasped, her whole attention on him, hanging onto every word he said. “How big was it?”
“This big!” Theo spread his arms as wide as he could, making her smile widen.
“Whoa, that sounds big!” she said. “What color was it?”
She was too good at this. Even an outsider could see how excited Theo was to tell her everything, how genuinely happy he was to have her there and how attentive she was with him.
“Gray,” Theo answered. “Mom, maybe it’ll grow up to be a shark!”
Logan tilted his head and she exchanged glances with him as if telling him not to tell Theo it would not in fact grow up to be a shark, and Logan winked at her, making her giggle.
“Maybe,” she said, turning to Theo. “Ready to go?”
“Yeah,” Theo said and she fixed his shirt, then took his backpack from him to swing it over her shoulder.
“Say goodbye to Logan.”
“Goodbye Mr. Logan!”
Logan ruffled his hair. “Have a great weekend bub.”
“I’ll see you around?” she asked and Logan couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful face before reminding himself to pull himself together.
“Yeah,” he said, trying to focus. “Don’t be too nice to people until then.”
Her smile widened and she heaved a sigh, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.
“Don’t be too mean to people until then,” she replied and took Theo’s hand, walking away with him. He could hear her asking what else he had seen in the lake and Theo listing every single fish he had seen so he watched them until they were out of his line of sight, then let out a breath.
“Fuck…” he muttered, frowning to himself. “She’s beautiful, got it. Get your shit together.”
paola // 20 // she ! her // spanish // aries
MAIN MASTERLIST !!!
requests are : closed!
X MEN BOT LIST :
(my proudest works 🫧)
og logan howlett
[1,]NOTHING TO COME BACK TO -logan has the bad habit of disappearing for months to go on his solo missions. however, this time it seems like he almost had nothing to come back to. [tw : attempt]. [platonic!].
[2,]HIS CUB -logan presumed of having his 'animal instincts' under control, but all that big talk flies out of the window when some stupid guards try to harm his cubyou. [platonic!].
[3,]LIKE A CRYING BABY -everyone knows logan is not good with kids. But when you, the sweet thing that wasn't aware he regenerated, started bawling your eyes out for him, he realized he had a soft spot. [platonic!].
[4,]LIKE A WILD ANIMAL -when logan realized you had the same mutation as him, he pushed you away to ensure you wouldn't turn out like him. At the end, you ended up just like him just because he left when he was needed the most. Who's the dangerous weapon now, huh, Logan? [younger!reader / not strictly platonic]
[5,]BAD TIME TO COME AROUND -logan just wants peace and quiet while his body recovers from a mission, but you're hurt too and just want to spend a bit of time with your fave old man. [platonic!].
[6,]GLITTERY LOVE 🫧-logan is a bitter old man, and you're a ray of sunshine. charles is totally aware of this and that's why he forced him to spend time with you as therapy for his burdened mind. [platonic! / sunshine!reader].
[7,]TEST TUBE BABY 🫧-both logan's and wade's DNA has gotten mixed up to create a brand new weapon x, you. Lucky you, one of your 'fathers' found you and now logan's stuck with cooparenting you. [platonic! / kinda daughter!reader].
[8,]CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT HER T-T-T-T-FACE 🫧-even as gruff as he is, logan is still just a man, and having a coworker with such nice titties is sure as hell distracting.
[9,]MATING SEASSON KINDA STUFF -logan hates his animalistic instincts for putting him through this strange rut, but he definetely doesn't hate that you're the one taking care of him.
[10,]FLYING PROBLEMS -logan and flying don't get on too well, and you're seated next to a far more grumpy and stressed than usual Wolverine when turbulences hit.
[11,]LIKE STRAY CATS -a weapon-x war veteran and a child-supersoldier experiment. can they get along? [platonic!].
[12,]JUST. ONE. NORMAL. NIGHT -there hasn't been a calm night, a normal night, in your life ever since you joined the x-men. with a knock upon your door, you prepare yourself to another announcement for an emergency mission, only to be met by a restless logan that can't sleep.
[13,]LITTLE TROUBLEMAKER -logan is always walking around with a cigar in his mouth and faking to be annoyed by everything. what will happen when he catches the certified comic relief troublemaker of the school running around past curfew? [platonic!].
+[14,]DADDY'S FARMHAND 🫧-cowboy!au. your father has hired someone to help him out in the farm and, of fucking course, it had to be this hot man that seems to take joy in the way your eyes wander whenever he's around.
old man logan
[1,]ACHING BONES AND WARM HANDS 🫧-he's getting old and his bones are aching, but you're young and your mutation makes you run warmer, so.. how about you help your old man out, bub?
[2,]OLD MAN WITH ANGER ISSUES -everyone has a different way of dealing with grief. while you're one to drown in it, logan burns with it, irremediably burning everyone in a close range due to his own anger. [platonic!].
worst wolverine
[1,]A JOKE TO HIM -when someone who isn't your wolverine discovers a you that isn't his you, thinks can go downhill very fast. especially when you've seemed to fail at everything his version of you had accomplished without a sweat. [platonic!].
[2,]WADE LIKES HIS MERCH 🫧-when, after the 'worst' version of logan moved into your appartment, you wake up in pyjamas you certainly didn't go to sleep with, you're forced to get out of your room with 'wolverine's babygirl' written on your ass.
[3,]MOMMYPOOL -after falling into the void, logan discovers that maybe not all deadpool's are that bad. not when he's got the hottest one paying attention to him.
[4,]THAT TIME OF THE MONTH -just logan realizing how much wade babies you when you're in that time of the month. +wade wilson [platonic!].
[5,]"I CALL DIBS ON THE KID!" -it seems that, while trapped between grumpy logan and yapper deadpool, you're not going to get any sleep at all during this flight.. +wade wilson [platonic!]
[6,]"SORRY, MOMMY?" + "WADE STFU" -since sending wade and logan alone and togheter to a mission is the recipe for murder, they decided to send you to make sure they got the mission done instead of fighting all the time. +wade wilson
[7,]GOD'S BEST JOKES -bascially the scene of the angry speech in the car, but instead of yelling at wade he's yelling at you (angst-oriented).
wade wilson (earth-10005).
[1,]ROOKIE WITH A MOUTH -out of the whole X-Team, wade wilson seems to be the one that talks the most. a yapper, rambler, however you want to call it, he runs his mouth day and night. yet, there seems to be only one thing that shuts him up: you.
[1,]HANLDE HIM 🫧-after weapon xi, probably the most dangerous experiment in the base, kills his handler. Your boss decides it's you who'll handle him.
[2,]NOT JUST A WEAPON 🫧-after logan joined the school, he managed to convince charles of sending an 'expedition team' to the Project X base he escaped from. However, he is met by an old friend that was supposed to be dead and rotting, and that now is stuck to your side like the clingy merc he remembered him to be only.. less chatty.
wade wilson
[1,]SCAR FOR A SCAR -wade seems completely adamant on not showing you his face, while most of the people at the X-Mannor (colossus, negasonic, yukio, and even logan) have seen his face he refuses to let you see it. so, when you're now the one with nasty scars that you won't show him, he pulls an offer to the table "scar for a scar, eh, pumpkin?" [platonic!]
[2,]PUSHED TO THE LIMITS (WOLVERINE #22) -after seeing with your own eyes the way wolverine dismembered deadpool to only half-chest and an arm, you the teen-age apprentice of deadpool, spend the whole next night watching him regenerate out of sheer anxiety. [platonic!]
[3,]"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE KID SAW IT?!?" -deadpool 2. after waking up on the X-Mansion couch with colossus towering over him, wade finds out the one to ditch on him about blowing himself to pieces had been you. And now you're as traumatized by the stunt he pulled as to not want to leave your room. well, sucks. [platonic!]
[4,]THAT TIME OF THE MONTH -just logan realizing how much wade babies you when you're in that time of the month. +logan howlett [platonic!].
[5,]"I CALL DIBS ON THE KID!" -it seems that, while trapped between grumpy logan and yapper deadpool, you're not going to get any sleep at all during this flight.. +logan howlett [platonic!]
[6,]"SORRY, MOMMY?" + "WADE STFU" -since sending wade and logan alone and togheter to a mission is the recipe for murder, they decided to send you to make sure they got the mission done instead of fighting all the time. +logan howlett
+[7,]A SURPRISE VISIT -marvel future avengers oriented. after getting attached to you since you'd always open the door of the tower for him so he didn't have to break a sweat in avoiding the security system, deadpool comes to ring the door once again only to be met with iron man instead of you. [tw: attempt] [platonic!]
I’m having a hard time dealing with repressed emotions and I just want Logan to help and comfort me </3
he gives the best hugs; he’s so warm, so solid that you can’t help but feel so completely and utterly safe in his arms— the feeling is heightened by the way his large palm cradles the back of your neck and head, tucking you under his chin so he can rest it on top of your head. he leaves tender, lingering kisses into your hair periodically, nuzzling into you to breathe in your scent. he sways the two of you from side to side, hands running up and down your spine in a comforting fashion, humming contentedly whenever you snuggle further into him. he smells really nice; a little spicy and a little woodsy, along with the scent of worn leather <3
AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️
I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰
Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!
Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader
Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.
Word Count: 4540
CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language
Series Masterlist
Fine.
Maybe you did have a crush.
And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.
Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.
“He actually lifted your car?”
You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.
“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”
“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”
“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”
“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”
“Thanks Julie.”
“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”
You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”
“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”
“Logan.”
“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”
“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”
“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”
“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”
“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”
“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”
Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”
“No seriously, because Theo—”
“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”
“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”
“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”
“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”
“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”
“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.
“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”
“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”
“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.
“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.
“You cannot be serious.”
“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”
“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”
“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.
“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”
“Hi mommy!”
You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.
“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.
“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.
“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.
“I’m listening, bean.”
“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”
You hummed.
“That’s where they’ll stay in the weekend when I’m there,” he said. “And then, in the weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”
You let out a small laugh.
“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”
He paused for a moment.
“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”
“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”
“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”
“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”
“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”
“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.
“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.
“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”
“No!”
“Bean.”
“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”
You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.
“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”
Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.
“So no chocolate before bed then?”
Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.
“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”
You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”
“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”
“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”
“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”
“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”
Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.
“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.
“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”
“Are you being safe?”
“I am,” you said. “Are you?”
“Am I being safe?”
“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”
“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”
You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.
“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.
“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”
“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.
“Mommy, half a chocolate!”
“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”
“But—”
“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh.
“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”
“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”
“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”
He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.
“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”
“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.
“Oh please, with that voice…”
“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”
“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”
Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.
“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”
She hummed, then tilted her head.
“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”
You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.
“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”
*
Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.
Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.
“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”
“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”
“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”
You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.
“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.
“Logan?”
Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.
“Hey.”
“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”
“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”
“No no, I can stay.”
“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.
“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.
“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”
You blinked a couple of times.
“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.
“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”
One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.
“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”
“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.
“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”
The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”
You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.
“Hey, leaving already?”
“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”
“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”
You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”
“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.
“Look, right there.”
“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.
“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”
“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”
“He’s just being nice.”
“Car sex in the rain, got it.”
“He is my friend!”
“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”
You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.
“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”
Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.
“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”
Stacey turned to Paul.
“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”
“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door stepped out.
“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”
He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.
“You didn’t bring a coat?”
“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.
“What about you?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.
“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”
“No problem.”
“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”
You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”
“Your condition?”
“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”
Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.
“You heard that?”
“Mm hm.”
You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.
“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”
“No.”
A small spark of hope shot through your system.
“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”
“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”
You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”
“Because of the X-gene.”
You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.
“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”
“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”
“Against everything?”
“Mm hm.”
“What if we had a car crash right now?”
“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”
“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”
“Happened before, healed instantly.”
“What if someone shot you?”
“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”
You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”
“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”
You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.
“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”
“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”
You raised your brows. “Did you?”
“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”
Holy shit, Julie was right.
You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.
A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”
“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”
He shook his head.
“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”
“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”
“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”
“What are the names?”
“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”
“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”
“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”
“Jesus.”
“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”
Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.
“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”
“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.
“…People usually hate it.”
“People are idiots.”
“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”
“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.
“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”
“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”
“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”
“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.
You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.
“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.
“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”
“Did it work?”
“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”
“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”
That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.
“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.
“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”
“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”
You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.
“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”
The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.
“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”
…Oh.
Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.
That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.
“Is this your place?”
You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.
“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”
A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.
“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.
“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.
“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”
Okay, so, secretly pining best friends with Logan! Very fun! Loved it!
But also, adults do have "sleepovers," (too tired/drunk/late to drive home, so you crash overnight on the couch) and depending on the dynamic of your friendship, can actually be a little taste of what domestic life would be like together. Just. Sitting together quietly, winding down from a good day, then getting ready for bed when one of you decides it's time to be A Responsible Adult and get a decent night's sleep (you're not kids anymore, after all. Sleep is important).
Waking up in the morning, knowing your best friend is here. Quietly making breakfast together, laughing over how sleepy you both are before coffee, lightly teasing each other over bed head and morning breath. Doing your morning routines together, pointing out stupid shit in the news or bitching over work emails, just drawing out the time before you have to get ready to face the real world.
Imagine Logan being one of those sleepy bear types who grumbles until he fully wakes up, who's soft and warm and domestic when he's with someone he trusts. Also, I imagine that if you tease him about needing to shave in the morning, he'd be the type to chase you down and rub his scruffy face on you in revenge, which is basically how a scruffy guy marks you as his. (His best friend? His potential future partner? No, just his in general.)
a/n yes, a hundred percent yes to all of this
----
The soft glow of the bedside lamp has transported you into another world. A universe made up of the faint scent of detergent and the feel of warm bedding beneath your fingertips.
You blink. There's no reason to feel as drowsy as you do, not when Logan's spent the last ten minutes scolding you. Still, though, something about sitting at the foot of his bed makes it easy to give into your lingering haze. It'd be easy to fall asleep like this.
"Don't," the instruction is flat, "Stay awake."
His back is still to you, which means there's no harm in openly frowning. "I am."
Logan's sigh is nearly masked by the gentle groan of a drawer being pushed shut. He turns around, expression still pinched but much less irritated than before. "Barely." You part your lips, some nonsensical protest waiting on the tip of your tongue, but Logan beats you to it, "Here."
He's extending an arm, a piece of fabric clutched loosely between his fingers. You blink again, this time focusing on the weight of your eyelids. The gesture is such a sharp contrast from his earlier attitude, you're nearly overwhelmed by your whiplash.
You stand before accepting the T-shirt. "Thought you were mad at me."
He lets out a breath, the sound sharp enough to constitute a warning. "I'm not--" His gaze shifts towards the ground. "You should have called me."
This again. "I was fine." His eyebrows draw together with the same level of offense that he used when you first presented this argument. "And I wasn't even alone, I was with Jean and Scott." He scoffs. "And you said to call you if anything went wrong, and nothing did."
Logan walks forward slowly, his steps measured until he's close enough to fully deteriorate your already fragile train of thought. In an attempt to regain control, you lift your head to look him in the eye. He frowns as he raises a hand, his fingers coming to rest beneath your chin.
He's careful as he tilts your head back. There's a weight to his silence. "You're drunk." All you can think to do is blink. He's known this, it's the main reason he's been lecturing you since the couple that graciously allowed you to third wheel all night dropped you off. "You're unreliable."
"Not that drunk."
The correction doesn't ease him. He studies you for another long moment before releasing you with a tired sigh. Maybe you should take it easy on him. It's not his fault he has the heart and patience of someone that's lived two centuries. You sigh. "Fine, next time I go out, I'll wake you up to come get me, even if I'm totally okay."
He ignores your sarcasm with expert ease. "Knew you'd get it, Princess."
You squeeze the T-shirt's fabric between your fingers in an attempt to ignore the warmth threatening to crawl up your neck. "I'm full of understanding."
"Yeah," he mumbles flatly, turning away from you as he walks towards his bed. You watch him with an openness that a more sober you would have never gotten away with. Logan had come to the door in a pair of loose sweats and no shirt. It had been easy to ignore his appearance when you were still in the giggly stages of being drunk. "Go change."
An instinctual desire to argue almost has you protesting, but you are tired of your going out clothes. And the thought of getting to pass out in Logan's bed for a few hours isn't exactly unappealing.
You pull the T-shirt over your head. Logan says your name, but you're too focused on adjusting the hemline to react. The shirt's large enough to cover most of your upper thigh, falling only an inch or two above the dress you're wearing. You slip the dress's straps off of your shoulders before reaching beneath the shirt's loose fabric. You tug at the dress's zipper before slipping the material down your legs.
You pick up the discarded fabric, folding the dress before placing it on top of Logan's dresser. He's uncharacteristically quiet as you approach the available side of his bed. "You seem tired."
He leans towards his nightstand, arm stretching outwards to turn of his bedside lamp. His eyes settle on some point a little past your shoulder. "Not all of us are 20-somethings that can stay up all night."
It's a teasing comment, likely an attempt at preemptively limiting your usual 10 to 15 minutes of yapping before actually attempting to fall asleep, but it digs at you. Jean was the one that insisted on letting Logan babysit you, you wanted to let him sleep. "I didn't want to wake you up."
Logan shifts, his bent leg nearly brushing against yours. "I wasn't asleep," the words are low, careful, "But if I had been--you wake me up." He pauses. "I'd rather that than know you're walking around drunk and looking like that."
An uneasy heat spreads through your chest. You focus on the bedding pooled over your lap. Like that--the kind of comment that'd usually have you insulting the person making it for attempted slut shaming. But Logan's voice is too distant for you to find any insult in it, even in a teasing context.
You bend fabric between your fingers, pressing the nail of your thumb into the material. You nod once.
He shifts towards you, his warmth becoming impossible to ignore beneath shared bedding. "I sleep better like this anyway."
The words are uncharacteristically soft, almost cautious. You lean into the feeling of them, allowing your back to relax against a pillow.
You've shared a bed with Logan before, usually after hanging out with him a little too late and once on a mission where you had to pretend to be recently engaged to avoid blowing your cover. It's not exactly common, but you know how he sleeps enough to know that he's not exaggerating. As soon as he's asleep, he loses the ability to be aware of personal space, an arm across your waist and chin pressed into your shoulder.
"Considering the way you take up the entire bed, I'm sure."
He exhales, the sound more pointed than it needs to be. "You steal blankets."
You scoff. "That's so not true." The corner of his mouth pulls itself upwards, the look much too triumphant. What a lame argument--you don't steal blankets, you're not given a chance to. As soon as Logan's on you, it's nearly impossible to move. "Like I can steal blankets out from under your adamantium skeleton."
Logan tilts his head, eyes narrowing in a way that promises nothing good. "You're saying I'm heavy."
Well, when framed like that, anything can sound rude. "No." You press your lips together to keep from laugh. "I"m saying your skeleton is literally made of metal..." You straighten in an attempt to make yourself focus. "...And metal is--" Your mental hold slips, a soft laugh tumbling past your lips as you try to think of a politically correct way to make your point. "...Heavy."
He leans forward, his knee brushing against your leg. There's a tact to his movement, a deliberateness better suited for the violence of the outside world. A warning, you realize, a moment too late.
Logan shifts his weight. You laugh as his hands find a place on each of your shoulders. "That's the same thing."
Helplessly, you press a palm against his chest. Your halfhearted protests do nothing to sway him. You laugh again, elbow pressing into the mattress in an attempt to steady yourself. Logan moves a hand to the back of your head before letting the brunt of his weight fall onto you.
You let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a squeal as you're pushed down. Your head hits the pillow, but the suddenness of the motion doesn't hurt. His forearm is resting near your head, turning him into more of an implication than an actual force capable of crushing you.
You let yourself smile openly. For someone that's always willing to remind you of his age, he has no problem acting like a child. Your lips part, but the laugh attempting to crawl up your throat dies before it can slip out.
Logan's watching you, his eyebrows drawn together in a way you can't interpret. His warmth, the feel of him against you, all of it, loses its humor.
He stays like that for what could be awhile, or no time at all. Then, Logan shifts, his arm moving away from the side of your head. Before you can overthink the change, he's resting his head against your upper stomach.
He's--there's never been this much openness about physical contact. Sure, you guys are comfortable with each other, with you having no issue resting your head against his shoulder during movies or reaching for his hand after a particularly rough mission, but that's--that's usually you.
You force yourself to recover, focusing on your breathing to keep from outing yourself. With the kind of care you'd use to keep from scaring off a skittish stray, you move a hand towards his back. He briefly stiffens as you drag your fingers against his skin, but after a second, he exhales. "You're like a house cat."
You feel Logan's sigh more than you hear it. "I'm not answering that." That's okay. You're happy enough without his validation.
Things stay quiet, and you slip further into the realm between sleep and consciousness. "You--you're um--okay, right?" The question is stiff, maybe even a little awkward. You're so close to sleep, you can't bring yourself to get what he's asking. "Comfortable?"
You're glad to not have to hide your smile. "Yeah," you mumble, voice distant, "It's nice."
You're not sure what you're referencing, but Logan doesn't ask, so you decide it doesn't really matter.
----
The light is a tangible thing, felt against your skin before you can squint open your eyes to see it.
You shift, noting the dull ache of your head as you lift your hand to wipe at your face. Wait.
It comes back to you all at once--the drinking, the after drinking, Logan.
You open your eyes fully. It's instinct to shift, but it's nearly impossible to do much more than lift your head. Logan's asleep, his head resting against your ribs and arm draped over your waist. How could you notice this?
It would make sense for Logan to be a light sleeper. Even when he's at ease, he never seems fully settled in the feeling. So you're careful as you move, head turning as you try to look at him.
Logan's breathing loses its consistency before you can fully embrace the privacy. His fingers press into your hip so briefly you almost convince yourself the contact is only a product of your early morning haze.
He moves onto his back, palm brushing against your shirt as he leaves you. "Morning, princess."
There's something comforting about hearing his voice first thing in the morning. "Good morning." The words are a little raspier than you thought they'd be, difficult to force out around your hazy discomfort.
The corner of Logan's mouth pulls itself upwards. "I thought 20-somethings didn't get hangovers."
You roll your eyes. There are a lot of aspects of Logan's personality that warrant old man jokes, but his alcohol tolerance isn't one of them. You roll onto your side, propping your head up on one elbow. "I'm not hungover."
The almost-smile grows into something more assured. You let yourself enjoy the easiness of it. "Sure you're not, bub." The response is so warm you have to work at keeping your halfhearted pout.
Logan shifts, the mattress dipping as he sits up. "C'mon." He turns his head, looking at you from over his shoulder. "You'll feel better after you eat something."
The mention of food makes you aware of a hollowness you hadn't yet noticed. The thought of breakfast feels perfectly settling. You sit up with a smile, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "You're not gonna make me eat weird hangover cures, are you?"
He pushes himself to stand. "You're going to have to take that chance."
There's no humor in his tone, and his back is to you so you can't read his expression, but something tells you it's safe to follow him out of his room, anyway.