old man! logan who in the beginning won’t even entertain the thought of you being anything more than acquaintances because of his age.
sure, he was far older than every woman (being 200 years old n’ all) but it was different when he at least looked the part- abs for days, energetic, full of life- now as he aged, logan not only felt the inadequacy of being with a much younger woman but wrong for being attracted to someone so young.
so wrong it’s right imo
I think you’d have to put in a lot of effort for him to see you as a potential romantic partner because of his insecurities.
Lots of batting your eyelashes, grazing his hand with yours, asking him about his day with great interest (maybe even a few not-so-sly compliments about how attractive you find him that would leave him choking on his drink)
“be careful what you say, kid”
“yeah? why’s that?” you’d edge, leaning in close enough that you could smell the whiskey on his breath.
“you don’t wanna get mixed up with an old man like me.”
“I think that’s exactly what I want.”
honestly even if he clocked that you were attracted to him, it would take him time to realize that you genuinely liked him. you didn’t just want to hookup with an old guy- you wanted to learn about his life, make him laugh, patch his wounds. really, he could hardly believe that someone as beautiful and kind as you would be attracted to him. logan was convinced for a while that you had an ulterior motive.
with all the effort you put in to break down his walls, he’d slowly start developing feelings for you. at first, he thought he just cared about your wellbeing like he did anyone he at least knew the name of. but then, he’d start looking for you on the street- whipping his head around when another women brushed past him with your perfume.
logan knew he was well and truly fucked when you mentioned another guy’s name one day and his heart sank to his stomach. his jealousy got the better of him and he left the bar without a word. until that conversation he hadn’t realized how deeply (and romantically) he cared for you, but god was he relieved when you followed him out of the bar, into the rain and convinced logan how in love with him you were.
during one of charles’ more conscious moments, logan had recounted the story to him (in his words “to keep the guy happy” but we all know logan just needed to tell SOMEONE about his feelings for you) and oh my god the smile on charles’ face when he heard it.
“is she pretty?”
“is she- what? look. ask me another question and I’m getting your meds. stop pryin’.”
after the love confession in the rain, logan asked you on a proper date.
call him old-fashioned, but he insisted on picking you up from your place in the limo. logan would show up at your front door with wilted flowers (that he had picked up before his shift and left sitting in the passenger seat all day with no water) in hand.
"are those for me?" you asked.
"fuck.. yeah, I know it's not much-"
"they're gorgeous." you'd gush, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek. "let me get them in some water and we can go."
logan would shove his hands in his pockets as you slipped into your house, peeking around the corner to check you out.
and yes, he would whistle to himself at what he saw and the disbelief that you wanted to go out with him.
anyway once you had started dating, I think he would find that he relies on you and your love to keep him going.
without you, logan had just concerned himself with surviving: keeping charles alive was his main priority and his jobs were just to make that possible. before you, he was nearly praying for the universe to let him go.
with you, he'd worry about- as he'd call it- "stupid shit."
he'd go to the grocery stores and actually read the labels because although he had been surviving on non-perishables, he wanted you to have nothing but the best.
"what the fuck is a GMO?"
If you tried to leave the house without saying goodbye, he'd whistle at you and motion you with his hand to come back.
"where'd'you think you're going?" he'd ask, pushing himself out of his seat with a groan. "c'mon, give me a spin."
when you went out to eat he'd pull the menu close to him, then away before he'd start spinning it in all sorts of directions just trying to get a glimpse of the options on the page.
"I can't read for shit-"
and before logan could even finish his sentence, nose still in your own menu, you'd be handing him an extra pair of reading glasses that you kept in your purse for him at all times.
"fuck you're good."
logan would be convinced that with his old age and body to match that he'd be gone soon. although he would never flat out say it, he would make an effort to show you how to take care of yourself so that when something did happen to him, he could go knowing that you would be okay.
He would teach you how to fix a leaky faucet with his arms wrapped around you and when you finally nailed it, he'd wrap his arm around you and kiss your forehead.
"Attagirl"
anyway I think old man! logan would lay awake at night regretting that you didn't get the younger, more fit, less damaged version of him but then you'd snuggle up into his side with a humm and he'd remind himself that it all led to you,.
thank you for the request nonnie!!
my ask box is always open to discuss more random headcanons for our favourite guys (i didnt even know i thought about old man! logan like this until right now)
xmen2000!logan with telepath teen!reader headcanons
✰ okay so, think back to Logan on his first days at the School.
✰ he acted like a surly cat that refuses to accept affection. Side-eyeing everything and everyone, not listening to anyone, scoffing and scowling, rolling his eyes, and being a massive dick.
✰ (he was just pissed because he had to stay in a damn school out of all places until those freaks that wore superhero suits deemed it 'safe enough' for him to go back home).
✰ so he just limits himself to walk around the hallways with a scowl and a cigar between his lips, bringing the heavy smoke of cigar with him everywhere he went.
✰ and, oh, cue you turning the corner a little quickly and bumping into him.
✰ Logan just grunts when you bump into him, holding the cigar between his lips with his teeth as his hands reach up to grab your arms and make sure you won't fall.
✰ a beat of silence. you blinking like someone had just flashed you with a flashlight in the face. and then your eyes start to tear up.
✰ and Logan freaks out big time. Confused and panicked as to having just made a random ass student cry.
✰ I'm talking wide eyes and frantically looking around in search of someone's arms to shove you into and away from him.
✰ cue Scott that was just walking by and suddenly gets the wind knocked out of his lungs because Logan pretty much shoved you into his arms.
✰ "fucking do somethin', slim" he said.
✰ spoiler: he turned around and walked away as quickly as he could without giving poor Summers a chance.
✰ and all the while he's mentally cursing himself beacuse making a kid cry is one thing those little shits will cry about anything, but making a teenager cry is another one (given their usually complicated relationship towards tears and vulnerability)
✰ skip to two days later when Jean finally manages to get him alone and it turns out you're a telepath that still doesn't know how to control their powers.
✰ and Logan's like "and?" cue the nasty wolverine bombastic side-eye and quirked eyebrow combo
✰ and and your telepathic abbilities consist of, amongst a few other things, read memories through contact.
✰ and then Logan's like "oh" and Jean is like "yes" and he's like "oh. oh shit"
✰ because he basically, accidentally and unknowingly, flashed a teenager with probably the most gruesome and traumatic war memories known to man.
✰ so now he's just like awkwardly eyeing you out of the corner of his eye anytime he spots you in a room because "damn how much did she see fuck"
✰ and he doesn't know the sheer extent of it until you wake up in your room feeling like you were about to puke your organs out and Logan wakes up just from the stench of your fear that he could smell from a floor away.
✰ it doesn't come as a surprise when he hears a shaky knock on his door and opens it up to the sight of you (paler than a damn ghost) looking like you might faint right there.
✰ "messed up shit, ain'it?" was what Logan groaned, voice raw with sleep, before stepping back and tilting his head as a sign to let you in.
✰ cue the protocol "what did'ya see, bub?" as he rubbed his thumb across your forehead to wipe the cold sweat there.
✰ cue to you looking at him with the most 100-yard-stare eyes he had ever seen and asking. "..where were his legs-?"
✰ and Logan just about chokes on air beacuse what the actual fuck. Staring down at you with his eyebrows up to his hairline.
✰ ellaborating on it, turns out your nightmare had offered you a perfect five stars third-person look into one of his memories in the trenches. The one when he was trying to calm down, sush, a young man crying for his mother on the middle of a gunfire because his legs had gotten blown off. the dude didn't make it.
✰ After that one, Logan simply grimaced "oof, tough one to see, kid" before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest. His chin on top of your head.
✰ "ya wanna stay w'me?" he didn't even look down, didn't need to do it in order to feel the way you immediately nodded your head. "alright, down we go" and pulling you down to the bed with him.
✰ he didn't have the strenght to look you in the eyes though, keeping you under his eyeline and cuddled up to his side.
✰ needless to say this routine repeated itself few times a week.
He is such a cuddler it’s actually ridiculous. Though he’s not a big fan of PDA, except when the situation requires it. (Aka “back off Scott”) It’s really more little touches. Like walking by you and your hands barely touch, or a hand across the small of your back. It’s very subtle in public.
However, sometimes he will literally just scoop you up, over his shoulder and take you to your shared room if he wants your physical attention and you’re preoccupied. At that point there’s not much you can do to stop him.
And he doesn’t mind you showing PDA, you just understand he’s probably not going to be as responsive compared to if you were alone. But he really does love having you wrap your arms around his bicep and hug his arm or when he comes back to the school and you give him your best hugs.
He doesn’t mind your playfulness either, like when you get on your tiptoes to kiss him, or when you hug him from behind, leading to him picking you up and giving an easy piggyback.
In private, he can’t keep his hands to himself. He always has his hands on your hips. He likes the curve of your waist and feeling it under his grip.
He runs his hands through your hands alllll the time. Pushing it aside or just combing through it. Tangling his fingers in it when he kisses you.
And speaking of kisses, Wolfie loves them. Quite possibly loves receiving them more than giving. If you just start kissing his shoulder or jawline, he’ll perk an eyebrow and try to keep you exactly where you are.
He basically a teddy bear at night and in the morning. You usually fall asleep tight in his arms and wake up with your head on his chest and his arm still holding you.
Sometimes you tease him by calling him “old man” to which he raises his eyebrows while turning you on your back and crawling over you repeating “old man?” as a question making you giggle.
Logan can sense a lot of things. This usually helps when you’re flirting with your eyes. And it helps him just know when you need some TLC.
In bed he’s an animal *wink, but for real: it’s a darn good time and you feel like you can totally release everything you’re feeling and simply enjoy it.
Bonus he doesn’t get hurt easily/permanently so there no withholding yourself when it comes to hickeys, clawing, scratching biting etc.
The only thing you could feel was an almost excruciating warm enveloping you. There was a low buzzing in the back of your mind, eyes closed and eyelids feeling like the heaviest blinds, feeling a dull ache in the lower part of your neck.
Feeling something warm puffing against your face, someone's lips resting just a few milimetres away from the skin of your forehead. Strong and bulky arms wrapped around you, chest to chest with someone's broad figure —slowly rising and falling.
And then the scent.
You knew it was Logan by his scent, of strong musk and deep cologne that wafted into your airways and drowned you in a spiral of cigar ash and worn out leather.
You don't know what happened, can't even tell where you are —apart from in his arms—, but you know it's okay because the rough and aloof Logan is holding you tight in his arms.
His big, warm, hands sprawled on your back to keep you against him. Rough lips used to spilling dry realities and sarcastic comments now tenderly caressing your forehead, leaning closer to rest against the skin —as if in a constant half-assed kiss.
You know you'll be alright.
He'll never admit to you the way his heart stopped when he had first seen you out cold on the floor, bloody, after taking a hit to the back of your head. The way everything blurred to nothing when he started to see red, the way he had stopped being Logan and turned to the Wolverine just to rip those guys' throath apart.
The hands that were holding you were bloody and violent, but they were holding you, weren't they?
being logan's iron deficiency princess™ would include..
masterlist with all of my works with logan's iron deficiency princess ,,
✰ him noticing that your scent had a different something from the ones from the other mutants.
kind of as if it was lacking something, much weaker than the ones from other people.
✰ him noticing just how poorly you performed in P.E class whenever he walked past a window and saw you already exhausted after just two laps around the gardens.
✰ him starting to subcounsciously keep an eye on you while training and doing P.E most times just sitting in a bench with a cold beer as his excuse as to why he was watching especifically your class during that subject.
✰ him being the teacher on 'watch duty' during reccess the time you actually fainted just because of playing tag with some other teens your age.
The garden outside of the lived-in school was bustling with the sounds of yells and laughter coming from the noisy students enjoying their reccess time.
Logan was sitting on a random bench, cigar between his index and fore finger as he kept a gruff eye on the teenagers coming and going. He had gotten dragged into 'watch duty', mostly to make sure no smartass tried to use their mutation and accidentally hurt someone, after half of the teachers had gone out in a special mission.
And that was when he heard it, he knew the sound was not directly near him, but his enchanced hearing allowed him to hear the 'thud' of a body hitting the floor clear as day.
His head snapping to the side with a quirked eyebrow, ready to scold whoever kid had pushed another to the floor, only to be met by the sight of the body of a girl on the floor.
You.
Out cold.
With a groan, he was forced to put out his cigar and shoo the curious students away from your unconscious body.
✰ him eventually convincing Hank to get a blood test done on you, much to your dismay, and having to literally —and reluctantly— hold you down so you wouldn't go into hysterics at the sight of the needle.
✰ It turned out, you had the fucking lowest iron he had ever seen.
He was no medic, but the ten (10) written next to the mcg/dL in the document when you clearly had to be over 35 to be healthy was a clear indicator.
"Look, bub" his voice was gruff, slightly raspy from the cigar he had smoked not half an hour before. He held the papers right up to your face, index finger pointing at the number in bold. "you see that? well, that's fucking low"
Hank simply stared and listened from the sidelines, going over the rest of the information in the printed papers of your blood test results while listening to Logan scolding the hell out of you with the most deadpan look ever.
As if the roughed up mutant knew anything about medical results, but he was right in one thing: your levels of iron in blood were fucking low.
✰ that's how Logan ended up, unwillingly, becoming the human tracker of your meds and other important things such as eating breakfast.
✰ He'd literally go as far as to yank you by the back of your shirt while you walked past him just to show you the box of meds with a quirked eyebrow and an unimpresed look.
✰ He gets mad whenever you don't take your meds, mostly because if you pair up not taking your meds with your forgetful nature in eating times terms, since it was him the one being called whenever you ended up in the infirmary.
,,
✰ There are days when the anemia leaves you tired and drained, when your brain simply won't focus and it feels as if you're living through a thick dream.
✰ On those days Logan doesn't hesitate in being the one with a warm hand firmly resting between your shoulders, gently guiding you to wherever you needed to go in the first place.
✰ Also, on your worst days, he'll also carry you with him wherever he goes. It's kind of like a protective urge deep down. Having you sit on one of his arms, your back against his chest, while he walks around the school with a cold beer in the other.
^piggybacking on this, he can definetely sense whenever is one of your bad days because the your scent is way weaker than normal.
"Logan?" Ororo's voice cut through the silence in the kitchen, an amused edge to it.
The school halls and kitchen or common rooms were empty at this hour in the morning, only —albeit rarely— occupied by the teachers with free periods.
"what?" he huffed, barely sparing her a glance as he momentarily struggled to pop the top of the beer bottle off with just one hand.
"what are you doing?"
"what do ya mean, bub?"
"I mean, why do you have a student in your arms when she's supposed to be in class" the white-haired woman hummed, walking past by you both —your form sitting on Logan's bulky arm, back against his chest— to grab a drink from the big fridge.
"her iron is too damn low" he grumbled, bringing the bottle to his lips to take a swig, while shooting you the tired-of-this-shit father™ look. "gotta keep an eye on her today, that's it"
his voice wasn't louder than a deep grumble, almost as if he was annoyed by it, but the way he gently bumped his nose against your cheek when Ororo wasn't looking said otherwise.
"you and your mama bear instincts" the woman teased, closing the the fridge's door and sending you a wink.
"mama bear my fucking ass"
✰ he's also the one teacher to accompany you to the blood tests, always. He was that first time and he doesn't see why anyone else would need to take up his role, even if he acts like it annoys the shit out of him.
✰ will actually smack the back of your head when he passes by you somewhere, and when you ask what it's for, he'll say for not eating breakfast and fainting on your way up the stairs.
✰ whenever it's lunch time, and he happens to walk by you, he'll do the ✌👁👁🫵 thing as if saying 'you better eat, im watching you'.
✰ he'll take any and every opportunity to make it about your iron levels. You're tired? that's for not taking your fucking iron meds. You're groggy? that's for not taking your meds. You're moody? that's because of not taking your meds.
✰ And god help him if you ever end up hospitalized/interned in the infirmary due to your low iron levels. He'll go batshit about it with you, no gentleness no spoiling, just an angry and hella worried old man accusatorily pointing at you and telling you that if you keep this up he's going to get damn gray hairs.
✰ don't let it fool you though, after the initial anger his behaviour'll soften up. Just a little though, he'll definetely give you the nastiest side eye + cocked eyebrow combo EVER if you complain while on bed rest.
RAAAHHHH I LOVE YOUR WOLVERINE ROOMMATE WORKS, okay thats it i wish u a great day for feeding us 🙏
AHHHH thank you so much!! I'm so happy that you're enjoying them!! All of the love on the posts and in my inbox is making my heart so full <3 Enjoy these hcs..
°☆Roommate!Worst!Wolverine HCs☆°
ask box | logan howlett masterlist
Logan is not the type of person to do dishes as soon as he’s done eating, but he will do them, just… later. Once he’s done he’ll leave them in the sink “to soak” or whatever and then go about his day. But do not be mistaken: he hasn’t forgotten about them. If Logan hears you go into the kitchen, turn on the faucet and put soap on the sponge, he’ll call from the other room to “knock it off! don’t touch ‘em.”
Even your own dishes, he’ll whistle at you to get your attention and shake his head, ushering you to go sit down and do something else because “this is his job, and have a little faith in (him), will you?”
He’ll do them at night before he goes to bed so you wake up to a fresh kitchen.
Hate to say it, but seeing the state of him in DP&W, he’s probably messy.
In the beginning of your arrangement, he’d be very conscious of his messes: Logan would clean up his dishes the second he was done, wipe down wet spots the condensation from his beer bottles left behind, grab his laundry from the dryer the moment it was done-
But naturally as he got more comfortable he wouldn’t race to do those things- not out of disrespect for you, but because he wasn’t scared of you tossing him to the curb because he didn’t put the salt shaker back.
He’d always clean up before you noticed though and if you had to ask him to do something (like if you were doing your own laundry and noticed his clothes in the dryer) he’d feel so guilty and be on his feet in a second.
Logan would 100%, absolutely buy ingredients you didn’t put on the list so you could bake.
Whether it was brownies, cookies, bread or something fancier, you had baked him this thing one time and he has had a consistent craving for it ever since. However, Logan wasn’t just going to flat out ask you to make them- that would be rude- he wanted you to bake them of your own accord. And is it really that wrong if he nudged you towards the inclination to bake it by having eggs on hand you didn’t need? Don’t think so.
“What’s that smell?” He asked, coming in the door, knowing perfectly well what it was.
“Oh I figured I’d bake some of those cookies,” You said, wiping your hand on a dishrag. “We had some eggs on hand I didn’t want to go to waste… you like them right? I can’t eat them all myself.”
He felt like a kid on Christmas morning.
Logan would never have guests, but he didn’t mind if you did. If anything, despite his grumpy demeanour, he would get such a kick out of you having your friends over.
“I can’t believe you’re fucking the wolverine.” Your friend said, taking a sip from her glass of wine.
Logan, who had been laying in bed reading the paper from yesterday, sat up.
“Oh my god!” You gasped. “Stop talking so loud. We’re not fucking! We’re friends!”
“Don’t act like I didn’t see you ogling him earlier when his shirt rode up.” She said in a hushed voice, wagging her finger at you. “If he asked, you’d be all over him in a second.”
Logan raised his eyebrow, listening- waiting on what you said next.
You frantically glanced down the hallway that led to his bedroom.
“I’m going to kill you!”
Whenever you told him you were having friends over, Logan would make it a point to stay home. He’d wait until the end of the night when your friends’ speech had started to slur and then swoop in to save the day, offering to drive your friends home.
Did he care about everyone’s safety? Sure. But mostly he just wanted brownie points with you.
“C’mon, here’s your purse.” Logan sighed, picking your particularly drunk friend off the floor. “Let’s get you home.”
“Y/n, I think I’m in love with your roommate.”
If she hadn’t been your friend, you would’ve felt a searing jealously burn through you. Instead, you had enough alcohol in your system that you felt like air. With a giggle you leaned your weight on Logan, jabbing your finger in her face.
“Hey, he’s mine!” You hiccuped. “Get in line.”
And that was worth Logan sitting in his room the entire night; even during that ten minutes where he had to listen to your friend go on and ON about how she’d just kill to sleep with the Deadpool.
If you were drunk, Logan would leave a glass of water and pain relievers on your bedside table, ready for you when you woke up.
When Logan came home to you having fallen asleep on the couch he’d do one of two things:
1. He’d shut the television off and urge you up from the couch, holding you as you shuffled your way to bed.
“C’mon, honey, bed time.”
2. He’d grab the blanket from his room and drape it over you, tucking the edges into the couch and pushing away the coffee table so you didn’t hit it when you woke up.
He’d have to physically restrain himself from giving you a kiss on the forehead. Instead he’d settle for lovingly shaking his head at you, triple checking the locks and heading to bed himself.
He would NOT check the mail. Ever.
He's so lucky he pays rent to you because if it weren't for you and your religious checking of the mail box, the two of you would be screwed.
Logan would go onto the sidewalk or up to the roof to smoke. Regardless of your feelings about smoking, he wouldn't want to hurt you by having you ingest his second-hand smoke. Maybe it was the fact that he would never have to worry about getting ill, or how madly in love with you he was, but your safety and health was his utmost priority. You were fragile. Logan wouldn't be able to take it if you got sick because of him.
Built in handy-man.
God forbid something happens to your car. Now you have to watch Logan, shirtless, on a hot, summer day climb beneath the car to fix it; grunting as he slides beneath it and back out so you can hand him the next tool. Oh nooo!!!!
No, but really. Leaky sink? He's on it. Wobbly chair leg? He's the man for the job. Logan would actually be offended if you called a plumber or repairman.
"What're you doing?" He'd ask, seeing you on the phone. "Gimme that." Pulling the phone to his ear, he'd swat you away. "Forget what she said. I'm handling it. What? Yes, I'm sure."
When you weren't home in the winter, Logan would turn off the heat and pop open a window, getting in some fresh air.
Giving Logan a "Best Roommate Ever" mug for his birthday. He'd smile so wide- something he only did for you- and proceed to start every day with it. He was hoping that someday, though, he could upgrade from roommate to something more.
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆
Thank you for reading! My ask box is always open to chat about our favourite MCU guys <3
I have a request for Logan and his low iron princess! Maybe the reader has been stressing and worried with their mid year finals coming up and due to this she hasn’t been taking care of herself as properly and of course she’s kept herself locked away to study and all that, effectively avoiding her friends and her unofficial adopted dad. Due to all the stress and lack of self caring, she ends up passing out during one of Logan’s classes and he takes care of her the rest of the day
stressed out
teacher!logan x lowiron!reader
a/n: the way I love the lowiron!reader and the worried and stressed-out-for-his-unoficial-daughter logan is not healthy I fear.
You looked at the black board, with all the dates and names scribbled in white chalk. You saw the lines connecting them, turning them into one of Logan's favourite ways of visually teaching: diagrams.
But you couldn't remember the stupid answer.
,,
You had spent nearly two weeks studying for the upcoming mid-year finals that were slowly piling up in your calendar, scribbled in blinding red. It didn't matter the day there was always something new to memorize or homework to do.
You didn't want to dissapoint the teachers, didn't want to dissapoint Storm or Scott or Jean or Charles and much less Logan.
You hated the way french mixed with latin.
You hated the way physics and quimics calculs mixed up with the math's formulas. It felt as if you knew everything and fucking nothing at the same time.
You tried to remember everything, you really did, stayed in your room during the evenings to memorize the different verb tenses for spanish.
But in spite of trying to not forget anything about your studies, you ended up forgetting something a lot more important. Your health.
,,
You didn't know how many of your iron pills you had skipped this week, but you calculated that probably all of them given the way your vission was swimming with strange colorful dots and blurrying in the edges.
You knew Logan had asked you a question about the 17th century. He was staring at you with an expectant look in his eyes after his mouth had moved, but his words hadn't reached your ears.
Why were your ears ringing?
You had little to no feeling of your hands, as if they were not attached to your body —damn the poor blood circulation. Your head felt heavy and everything seemed out of focus.
"kid" Logan's voice was firm, a warning tone to his words as he adressed the sickly pale undertone to your skin—as if daring you to actually pass out during one of his classes.
He wasn't the one worried, the class was —for once—completely silent and a few of the classmates around you were sporting worried glances.
And then, Logan saw the all-too-familiar look in your eyes. The look of someone who is about to faint "you, grab her" He quickly, albeit calmly, pointed to your seatmate who quickly scrambled to grab your shoulders —fearing what was about to come.
And then you fainted.
Everything faded to black in an almost nauseating spiral of images that your brain wasn't processing.
Leaving only darkness and the muffled sound of Logan's voice saying something you didn't quite catch.
,,
You woke up feeling as if someone had been hammering your head non-stop. Your eyelids were too heavy for you to even think of opening them, and you felt as if your body weighted nothing and 500 lbs at the same time was this how Logan felt with his adamantium skeleton?
The first thing your stressed out brain processed was the warmth. You didn't remember the school having heating pillows but this one sure was warm as hell, comfy. Then, the smell.
A mix between cigar ash, worn out leather, and general masculine musk whafted into your airways —drowning you in a familiar sense of comfort.
Logan.
At that thought, and at the memory of the fact that you had fainted in his class —right infront of him—forced a sudden urge in you to wake up and explain and try to find an excuse to avoid his scolding. But, it seemed like the man sensed your sleepy reaction before you had a chance of performing it because a big —warm—hand gently landed on the top of your head and forced you to stay still and not lift it. "easy" was all he rumbled in a gruff tone.
And that's when you processed the rough texture of the 'pillow' you had your cheek against. Denim. Jeans. You were resting your head in Logan's thigh.
That forced a sleepy groan out of you, one that came out more whiny than intended, as you clumsyly tried to get your hand to move so it could rub at your eyes and see if then you could open them. But Logan, once again, caught onto your movements and his other hand gingerly wrapped around your own —cold—one.
"fuckin' christ, bub" he huffed out, voice calm. "you're as cold as Bobby when he decides to turn into a man-shaped icecube"
You shifted slightly on your place just to let him know you were paying attention to his words, since you didn't feel like your throath would colaborate in the speaking task. He placed your hand on his lap, somewhere next to your face as you rested on his thigh, before bringing his hand to cup your cheek and gently rub his thumb under your eyes.
"c'mon, princess, come back t'me now, yeah? open those eyes" he rumbled lowly, voice having lost the usual dry edge, as he kept rubbing circles under your eyes. When he saw your eyelids twitch he hummed. "atta girl, c'mon,"
Your eyelids weighted like steel blinds, but when you felt the warmth of Logan's touch under them it was as if the weight eased a little. You forced yourself to open your eyes a little bit, then blink until the white walls of the infirmary didn't blind you, and then look at the man.
You weren't met by the usual worried frown you got whenever you passed out, or by the stressed scolding he rambled into, or by a stern look in his eyes. No, he was still worried, but more soft. "you ain't mad 'tme..?"
You managed to croak out those simple 4 words, slightly slurred due to how rag-y your tongue felt inside your mouth. And you find yourself shooting him a deadpan —"really?" kind of— look even despite your sleepy and disoriented state when your words are met with a loud snort from the man.
"oh, I'm really mad right now, bub" he replied, using his index and fore finger to pinch your neck slightly. A tense smirk on his face. "but we'll talk 'bout it later, yeah? after you've eaten, rested, and taken your fucking meds"
The last part is spoken with spite, you know it, but you can't help it when you lean further into his thigh —after squeaking out a jumpy noise after his rough pinch. He's the man that is always taking care of you, after all.
