benispunk

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 11: A Night At The Center

Logan invites his roommates to a special event at the center. It's Y/N's first time meeting his colleagues and let's say they see right through whatever they got going on.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hellooo! as you can see, we are currently in my active era. here's the third chapter of the week and I kinda LOVE it because I just adore including every character ever (as I've done with Y/n's colleagues a few chapters ago—and don't worry they will come back). Laura and Marie 🫂🫂 hope you like this one!! there might be a bit too much dialogue but I love to talk so that's what you'll get unfortunately. see you on Christmas for the next chapter!! enjoy🫶

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

The hall buzzed with energy, the sound of conversations and faint music filling the space as Logan led the way. Y/N walked beside him, her gaze flickering around the room to take in the lively atmosphere. Wade, however, was already making himself at home, spotting a familiar face across the room.

“Wilson!” called a man with red glasses, all the way across the hall.

“Summers!” Wade shouted, grinning as he jogged over to join him and a man in a wheelchair.

Y/N chuckled at Wade’s enthusiasm. “He seems to know his way around here.”

Logan gave a low grunt. “Yeah, he’s been to a few of these. Can’t say he blends in, though.”

They continued deeper into the room, weaving through clusters of people until they approached a small group at the center. A woman with striking white hair turned toward them, her warm smile lighting up her features. “Logan!” she greeted, her eyes flicking to Y/N with curiosity sparking in their depths.

“This is Y/N,” Logan introduced, his tone carrying its usual gruffness. “She’s my roommate.”

Ororo’s lips quirked in amusement as she extended a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a bit about you.”

“Only good things, I hope?” Y/N replied, shaking her hand, the corners of her mouth lifting in a playful smile.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard one bad thing about you coming from him,” Ororo teased, casting a sly glance at Logan, who was now scowling faintly.

Y/N’s brow arched in surprise as her gaze shifted to Logan, but before she could say anything, another man joined the group. His solid frame and thoughtful expression gave him an almost scholarly air. “Hank,” he introduced himself, offering Y/N a firm handshake. “So, you’re the one keeping these two in check?”

Y/N laughed, shaking his hand. “That’s me. It’s nice to meet you.”

“She’s in charge of Logan and Wade? Poor thing,” Ororo quipped, earning a chuckle from Hank.

“Hey,” Logan muttered, crossing his arms, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The conversation flowed easily, Ororo and Hank quickly making Y/N feel at home. Logan contributed in his typical fashion, his dry humor earning a few laughs.

“Logan always says we’re the worst,” Hank remarked, mock-seriousness lacing his tone. “But I think we’re growing on him.”

“Like fungus,” Logan deadpanned, and the group burst into laughter.

“Logan, be nice,” a new voice interjected, smooth and teasing. A woman with vibrant red hair approached, her green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Jean,” Logan greeted, his tone softening just slightly.

Jean turned her sharp gaze on Y/N, her smile kind but shrewd, as though she were already peeling back layers. “You must be Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Jean, Scott’s wife.”

Y/N returned the smile warmly, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

Jean’s eyes flicked briefly between Logan and Y/N. She caught the way Logan’s stance subtly shifted closer to Y/N, his arm almost brushing hers, and the way his gaze occasionally darted to her when he thought no one was looking. It was telling, though Logan himself seemed oblivious. Jean didn’t comment, simply storing the observation away with a knowing smile.

“So,” Jean asked, “how are you finding all of this? It’s a bit different from Logan’s usual environment.”

“It’s great,” Y/N replied. “It’s nice to see his world outside the apartment. I didn’t realize how much he does here.”

Jean’s smile widened. “He won’t admit it, but he’s an important part of this place. The students adore him.”

“Jean,” Logan muttered, his voice holding a warning edge.

“It’s true,” she countered lightly, raising her hands in mock surrender. “You’re their favorite.”

Logan huffed, clearly eager to move the conversation along, but Y/N’s quiet laugh drew his attention. She seemed genuinely charmed by the new perspective on him, and that realization left him slightly off-kilter.

The group eventually dispersed, Jean excusing herself with a meaningful glance at Logan. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I hope we see more of you around here.”

“Likewise,” Y/N replied, her smile lingering as Jean walked away.

Logan leaned against a nearby wall, his gaze scanning the room. Y/N approached with a drink in hand, her expression soft and thoughtful.

“Ororo and Hank are already plotting to steal you away,” Logan remarked, his voice laced with dry humor.

Y/N laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I doubt that. Hank has incredible stories, and Ororo’s so kind. I can see why you like working with them.”

Logan shrugged, his gaze sliding to the side. “They’re alright.”

Before Y/N could respond, a pair of younger figures appeared nearby, carrying plates of snacks. Marie’s confidence was apparent as she grinned at Y/N, while Laura lingered slightly behind, her shyness evident in the way she held her plate.

“Mr. Howlett,” Marie began, mischief glinting in her eyes, “are you gonna introduce us, or do we have to guess who she is?”

Logan sighed, his arms crossing. “This is Y/N. She’s my roommate. Like Wade.”

Y/N smiled warmly at the girls. ��It’s nice to meet you both.”

Marie stepped forward eagerly, shaking Y/N’s hand. “I’m Marie. And this is Laura,” she said, nudging the quieter girl forward.

Laura hesitated before offering a small, tentative smile. “Hi.”

“It’s great to meet you, Laura,” Y/N said, her voice kind and patient. “I’ve heard so much about both of you.”

Marie’s brows lifted. “Really? Mr. Howlett talks about us?”

Y/N chuckled, glancing at Logan, whose scowl had deepened. “Of course, he does.”

Logan grunted. “To complain.”

Marie laughed as Laura hid a small smile behind her plate.

Y/N turned her focus to Laura, her voice gentle. “Do you like it here at the center?”

Laura nodded, her tone soft but assured. “Yeah. It’s… different. In a good way.”

Marie grinned. “She’s the best here. Everyone loves her.”

Laura’s cheeks flushed, and she glanced down shyly. Y/N’s gaze softened. “I can see why,” she said, her sincerity shining through.

Marie leaned forward with mock seriousness. “But seriously, what’s it like living with Mr. Howlett? Does he secretly collect stamps or—”

“Alright,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “That’s enough.”

As the girls moved away, Laura offered a quiet, “It was nice meeting you.”

“You too,” Y/N replied, her smile lingering. She turned to Logan, catching the faintest warmth in his expression before he masked it.

“You’re good with them,” Logan murmured, his tone gruff but genuine.

Y/N met his gaze, her voice soft. “And so are you.”

Logan didn’t respond, but her words settled somewhere deep, leaving him feeling unsteady yet strangely content. He shifted his weight, trying to ignore the way her smile seemed to light up the room. He found himself studying her profile, trying not to dwell on the warmth spreading through his chest. 

He was so screwed.

———

Meanwhile, as Jean walked away, she headed straight for the corner where Scott, Charles, and Wade were deep in conversation. Her knowing smile returned when she saw Wade animatedly gesturing while Scott and Charles laughed.

“Oh, Jean!” Wade exclaimed dramatically, spotting her arrival. “Perfect timing, as always. We were just discussing the hot gossip of the night.”

Jean folded her arms, her eyebrow lifting in curiosity. “And what scandalous topic could possibly have you this excited?”

Wade leaned closer, his grin almost conspiratorial as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder toward Logan. “Someone over there is completely smitten with his roommate. It’s practically Shakespearean.”

Jean blinked, her lips twitching with amusement as she glanced toward Logan and Y/N, who were chatting with Ororo and Hank. “Is that so?” she asked casually, though her tone carried just enough intrigue to stoke Wade’s enthusiasm.

Scott nodded, an amused glint in his eye. “You saw the way he looked at her, right?”

“I did,” Jean admitted, her gaze lingering on Logan. There was something undeniably different about him tonight. His usual guarded demeanor was still present, but there was a subtle shift in how he stood—just a bit closer to Y/N, as though unconsciously tethered to her. “And I think you’re absolutely right.”

Charles chuckled softly, his voice cutting through their banter. “Logan doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, but even he isn’t immune to certain… connections.”

Wade clapped his hands together. “See? It’s not just me! The whole room can feel it.”

Jean shook her head, a laugh escaping her. “You’re incorrigible, Wade.”

Before anyone could add more fuel to the fire, a heavy presence approached the group. Logan’s steps were deliberate, his expression unreadable, though the subtle clench of his jaw hinted at his growing irritation. His gaze swept over them, narrowing when he caught Wade’s exaggerated grin.

“Logan,” Charles greeted smoothly, his voice carrying a note of mischief. “What impeccable timing. We were just talking about you.”

Logan stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Of course, you were.” His dry tone earned a chuckle from Scott and Wade, but his attention was locked firmly on the latter.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Wade said innocently, holding up his hands as though warding off a scolding. “We were being very complimentary. For example, Scott here thinks you’re incredibly dedicated to your job. A real paragon of professionalism.”

Scott rolled his eyes, struggling to keep a straight face. “That’s not exactly what I said.”

“And Charles,” Wade continued without missing a beat, pointing dramatically at the man in the wheelchair, “he was just saying how wonderful it is that you brought your delightful roommate tonight. What was it again? A breath of fresh air?”

Charles coughed lightly, though the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement. “Something along those lines.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed further. “Wade,” he warned, his voice low, “don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m just warming up!” Wade said, throwing an arm around Logan’s shoulders. Logan immediately shrugged him off, but Wade pressed on. “We’re all just so happy to see you finally… loosening up. And let’s be honest: bringing someone who’s not only smart and talented but also cute? Bold move, my friend. I’m impressed.”

“She’s your roommate too, remember?” Logan said, his eyes throwing daggers at the man in front of him.

“Is he wrong, though?” Scott asked with a grin. “Honestly, Logan, it’s like watching a rom-com in real life.”

“Fuck off,” Logan grumbled, which only made his companions laugh harder.

Charles finally intervened, holding up a hand to restore some semblance of order. “Alright, let’s not torment him too much. After all, Y/N might not appreciate us meddling in her life.”

“Oh, she’d love it,” Wade said confidently. “She’s got a great sense of humor. Unlike some people here.” He jabbed Logan in the ribs, earning another withering glare.

“Wade,” Logan growled, his patience wearing thin.

“Fine, fine,” Wade relented, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll stop. For now. But just so you know, I’m totally bringing this up later. We’re gonna have a great time.”

Logan sighed heavily, grabbing a drink from the table and muttering, “Not if I kill you first.”

As he turned to leave, Jean, who had been quietly observing, stepped closer. Her expression was a mix of amusement and sympathy as she addressed Logan. “I hate to say it, but I think you walked right into that one.”

Logan groaned, taking a long sip of his drink. “You’re all the worst.”

“Maybe,” Jean said lightly, her smile softening. “But we’re not wrong.”

Logan didn’t respond, instead fixing his attention on the drink in his hand. He didn’t need to look back to know the others were still grinning behind him. And as much as he hated to admit it, they weren’t entirely off base.

From across the room, his gaze landed on Y/N again, who was laughing at something Ororo had said. Her ease, her warmth—it was like a magnet, pulling him in whether he wanted it or not. For the first time in a long while, Logan felt like maybe—just maybe—letting his guard down wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

———

The evening was lively, the room filled with a hum of voices and laughter that seemed to echo the warmth of the event. Y/N stood near the refreshment table, drink in hand as she admired the space. Decorations hung with care, and every detail seemed to speak of the dedication behind the event. It was impossible not to feel the heart of the center here.

She was lost in thought, taking in the scene, when Charles approached.

“Y/N,” he greeted, his tone as composed as ever. “I hope the evening has been enjoyable for you.”

She turned toward him, a genuine smile breaking across her face. “It really has. Everyone’s been so kind and welcoming. And it’s amazing seeing how much this place means to so many people.”

Charles inclined his head slightly, the corners of his lips tugging into a faint smile. “It’s always a pleasure to see new faces here, particularly those who seem to appreciate what we’re striving for. Logan doesn’t often bring guests, so it’s nice to see you and Wade join us tonight.”

“Logan mentioned you’re a teacher?” He asked.

“Yes,” she replied, setting her glass down on the table. “I teach literature and creative writing at the high school level. It’s not always easy, but I love it.”

“I can tell,” Charles remarked, his gaze steady. “Your passion is evident. It’s a rare quality, and one that makes all the difference in this line of work.”

Y/N found herself smiling at the compliment, though she quickly redirected the conversation. “And what about you? How did you start this center?”

Charles’s expression softened, his gaze momentarily distant. “I founded the center with a dear friend of mine with whom I parted ways. It was born out of a simple yet profound need. I wanted to create a place where children who often felt out of place or overlooked could find support and a sense of belonging. Logan joined us not long after we opened in this building. He’s been an integral part of our work here.”

Y/N glanced across the room to where Logan stood, his posture relaxed but his attention fully on the students around him. His face, often guarded and unreadable, seemed to soften as he listened to them speak.

“He seems to really care about them,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Charles followed her gaze, his expression growing more thoughtful. “He does. More than he’d ever admit, even to himself.”

There was a pause, and Y/N sensed the shift in Charles’s demeanor. The weight of something unspoken lingered in the air between them.

“What is it?” she asked gently, her brows knitting together in concern.

Charles hesitated, then let out a soft sigh. “The center is struggling financially,” he admitted, lowering his voice to ensure no one else could overhear. “We’ve been trying to secure funding, but time is running out. If things don’t change soon, we may have to close before the end of the year.”

The words hit Y/N like a stone sinking in her chest. “That’s terrible,” she said, her voice laced with sympathy. “Does anyone else know?”

“Only Logan,” Charles said, his tone heavy with quiet resignation. “He’s been doing what he can to help, but there’s only so much one person can do. The rest of the staff and students will have to be informed soon, and it’s likely we’ll begin the process of finding alternative arrangements for the children.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered back to Logan, now leaning slightly against a table as Rogue and Laura animatedly chatted with him. Despite the lighthearted moment, she could sense an undercurrent of tension in his frame.

“How is he handling it?” she asked softly.

“Logan is resilient,” Charles said with a small, weary smile. “But losing this place will be… difficult for him. He’s put so much of himself into these kids, this community. It’s become a part of who he is.”

Y/N’s heart ached at the thought of Logan bearing the weight of this struggle alone. “Why hasn’t he told anyone else?”

“Logan doesn’t like burdening others,” Charles replied simply. “It’s one of his strengths, and also one of his greatest flaws.”

Charles’s gaze settled on her, his expression unreadable for a moment before he added, “If I may, Y/N, I’d ask a favor of you. Don’t tell Logan I’ve shared this with you— he wouldn’t take kindly to it. But if you can, keep an eye on him. He may need support, even if he’s too stubborn to ask for it.”

Y/N nodded, the weight of his request settling heavily on her shoulders. “I will. Thank you for telling me, Charles.”

He offered her a faint but genuine smile. “It’s clear you care about him, even if he may not realize it himself.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush but chose not to respond. Instead, she said, “If there’s anything else I can do to help, please let me know.”

Charles inclined his head in thanks before excusing himself to mingle with others. Y/N stayed rooted to the spot, her mind racing with what she’d just learned. Across the room, Logan caught her eye briefly before turning his attention back to the students. She could see now, more clearly than ever, just how much the center meant to him—and just how hard it would be for him to lose it.

———

The night was winding down, the lively chatter from earlier fading into a quieter hum as guests began to leave. Near the exit, Y/N stood with Charles, finishing their earlier conversation about the ups and downs of teaching. Despite the challenges he described, Charles spoke with such calm and optimism that Y/N couldn’t help but admire him. She found herself wanting to help somehow, even if she wasn’t sure how just yet.

Their conversation was interrupted by Wade and Logan approaching, Wade holding up an empty cup like it was a prize. “Alright, team,” he said with his usual flair. “We’re heading out. Charles, as always, it’s been a pleasure.”

Charles chuckled and nodded. “Likewise,” he replied, turning back to Y/N with a warm smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. I hope we cross paths again soon.”

“You too,” Y/N said sincerely. “And thank you for tonight.”

Logan gave Charles a short nod, his typical way of saying goodbye, before the three headed toward the door. They’d just stepped into the hallway when a voice called out.

“Wait!”

They turned to see Laura running toward them, weaving between the few lingering guests. She skidded to a stop in front of Logan, who crouched slightly to meet her.

“What’s up, kid?” he asked, his voice softening in a way that surprised Y/N.

Laura leaned in and cupped her hands around his ear, whispering something only he could hear. Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed out, his expression hard to read. He glanced toward the room, where Y/N noticed a group of kids, including Marie, watching from a distance, giggling and whispering.

Logan straightened, clearing his throat. “Alright, I’ll see you Monday,” he said, his tone gruff but kind.

Laura grinned at him, then turned to wave at Y/N and Wade before darting back into the room.

“What was that about?” Wade asked, raising an eyebrow.

Logan shrugged, his face back to its usual neutral expression. “Just kid stuff.”

“Kid stuff?” Wade echoed. “Yeah, sure. Looked more like ‘getting-red-in-the-face’ stuff to me.”

“I wasn’t,” Logan muttered, already walking toward the exit.

“You totally were!” Wade laughed, catching up to him. “Come on, spill it. What’d she say?”

“Nope.”

Y/N, walking beside Logan, smiled. “You’re being suspicious. Just tell us.”

“It’s a secret,” Logan said firmly, but there was the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Wade gasped dramatically. “A secret? Oh, now I have to know. Don’t think I’m letting this go.”

“Drop it, Wade,” Logan grumbled, quickening his pace.

“Never,” Wade shot back, practically bouncing with excitement as they stepped into the cool night air.

Y/N shook her head, laughing at their banter. As they walked home, she glanced at Logan and caught a rare softness in his expression. Whatever Laura had said, it had clearly stuck with him.

And though he didn’t say a word about it, her voice echoed in his mind: “You and Ms. Y/N look good together.”

[benispunk]

not a lot, just forever (pt.2)

summary: weddings weren’t logans thing, but being at one with you made him mind them a whole lot less. your (not so) subtle confession may have helped—but now it’s his turn to make the next move.

pairing: logan howlett x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: romcom themes, weddings, possible ooc!logan, reader is described as wearing a dress

authors note: thank you to everyone who read and interacted w my first fic. it genuinely means so much! here’s a part two for everyone who was asking<3 I’ll be working on requests over the next few days, feel free to keep them coming loves! part 1 is on my profile (still figuring out hyperlinks and such, masterlist will be coming soon!) ౨ৎ

logan doesn’t think he’s ever been more excited for a party. whenever there’s been a gathering or a social event at the mansion in the past, he’s been enthusiastic, sure, but mostly at the prospect of being able to get drunk off of his ass—not having to deal with the heavy weight that finds its home in his chest when he’s sober.

this time, though, it’s not the liquor. that’s almost the last thing on his mind, for the first time in years. right now, all he can think of is you. you in your dress, your perfume overwhelming his senses in the best way possible.

his heart finds a shaky rhythm in his chest as time inches on, throwing noncommittal glances at the altar where jean and scott exchange their vows. his knee bounces up and down sporadically, as he attempts to subdue his racing mind. he can feel you next to him, feel the heat radiating off of you—or was that him? he wasn’t so sure. he steals small glances at you, biting back the urge to reach for your hand; settling instead for resting his arm on the back of your chair.

he almost lets out a cheer when everyone begins filing out of the venue—ripping him from his thoughts. his eyes catch on you momentarily, breath hitching in his throat at the mere sight of you, holding up your dress and treading carefully on the grass. if he was bolder, less reserved, he’d extend an arm and help you. as everyone gathers outside, cooing at the newlyweds, he’s only focused on one thing.

the bouquet.

everyone knew the old wives tale. whoever catches the bouquet, is next on the list to get hitched. determination swells in his his chest, eyeing the assortment of pink and white blooms that rest in jeans arms.

he observes the surrounding area as photographers flash a few pictures of the couple— the more animal side of his brain working overtime, like a wolf stalking a caribou. he doubts that he’ll actually go for it, too rational to do something so childish. it seems he has no choice, however, because as soon as he sees a flash of pink and white against the blue sky, he’s already taken off—as though his legs made up his mind for him. he weaves through the crowd, hushed apologies falling past his lips. once he reaches the clearing, he jumps off, reaching for his prize. a smug grin adorns his lips, as he grazes the wrapping of the flowers—only to have it jerked away from him.

his brow furrows as feet meet solid ground once more, only to soften when his eyes lay upon the person who actually caught the bundle of flowers.

you stand in front of him, eyes locking with his. any frustration in his mind is washed clean as he sees the grin on your face, flushed cheeks. you stay gazing at him for a little too long; even as your shared friends gather to congratulate you.

those who were close to you, though—namely your teammates— knew that this meant something deeper. anyone who knew logan could tell that he had feelings for you, and vice versa. the stolen glances, hands brushing as you walk side by side.

as the throng of people begin to head for their cars, logan tries to spot you in the crowd, itching to tell you how he feels—to confess— spilling every emotion he’s ever felt for you onto the dirt for you to do as you please with. he sighs gruffly, heading for his motorcycle.

the road to the mansion is practically ingrained into his memory, unfortunately giving him enough time to overthink the rest of his evening. what if he misread? what if you changed your mind? what if he got you hurt? what if it was actually about someone else? like scott, or hank.

please don’t let it be scott.

he pulls up to the large building, gates propped open to allow guests easy entry. upon entering the room where the reception is held, his eyes immediately search for you: something that’s become a daily occurrence in his life since you stumbled into it. when he finds you, you’re already there, staring right back at him. if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

he rolls up his shirtsleeves, tugging at his tie anxiously, hating the way it clings to his throat. he clears his throat gruffly, swallowing his pride before starting across the polished wood floor, directly to you. he stands in front of you, his cheeks flushed this time.

“hey,”

he starts, any plan or script he had in mind abandoned once he saw your face. placing a palm on the back of his neck, his jaw tightens.

feelings.

logan had seen the worst parts of humanity. its darkest corners—and conquered it. risen above. yet feelings, were something he could never seem to overcome. but he’d be damned if he didn’t try for you.

“logan,” you speak, voice soft and low. he knew you. you hated to see him struggle—always wanted to finish his sentences so he didn’t have to say the hard things. he raises a hand, stopping you in your tracks. “let me,” he huffs. he takes a moment to look at you, really look at you. your parted lips, pupils wide. he has all the courage he needs.

sucking in a deep breath, he finds his footing.

“you were right. about me, i mean. i am scared. fuckin’ terrified, actually. im…” he trails off, swallowing hard in an attempt to regain himself, to soothe his racing mind. “telling you this— telling you how I feel, scared me, darlin’. but after you telling me you felt the same I realized that… never getting the chance to hold you—at least not in the way I want to—scares me a hell of a lot more.” he finishes, gazing at his feet. if he met your eyes right now, he didn’t know if he’d be able to continue, his brain screaming at him to give into fear. to run away.

for once he didn’t want to run. not this time. silence hangs in the air for a moment after his words, the anticipation allowing him to drag his eyes up your body, meeting yours.

before he can register, there’s a hand on his jaw, and one on the back of his neck pulling him closer. your foreheads meet, dark eyes gazing into yours. he almost melts at the way you look at him. doe eyed, completely at his mercy. he meets you halfway, plush lips meet his. shaky hands wind around your waist, tugging you in closer to him.

for a moment, the world stops.

it’s just you two. no nightmares, no impending doom. just this.

as you both pull back, logans heart calms in his chest. for the first time in a long time. he can breathe, actually think—cathartic. his eyes stay closed, chin coming to rest atop your head as he pulls you into him.

“I love you.”

your words make him jump a little. he knew what he was feeling. he had for a long time—too scared to admit it to himself. he softens after a moment, warmth filling his chest. it felt right. his right person.

“I love you too.”

as you pull back, world around you seemingly coming back to life— a slow song plays from the speakers softly, couples and friends gathering to dance. a hand reaches for logans wrist, guiding him to the dance floor.

his hands find their place around your waist, yours around his neck. your bodies intertwine, your face to his chest and his chin on your head. his eyes flutter shut, heightened hearing tuning out everything around him, focusing in on your heartbeat. steady, soft. home.

you sway softly, gathered by friends, and loved ones.

the beginning of forever.

[benispunk]

Ticklish

logan howlett x reader

Maybe you discovered Logan was ticklish. Maybe you used it to your advantage.

TW: it's pure fluff, it's a little bit funny and the end is a tiny bit suggestive. let's just say Christmas came early this year...this was written this morning when I woke up and it's fully inspired by my own post

Masterlist

Every morning before getting out of bed, you and Logan had a quiet ritual. These stolen moments of peace were rare in the chaos of the mansion, where every day brought new missions, training, or too many kids running around. It was the one time you could just be. No responsibilities, no noise— just the two of you.

This morning was no different. Your head rested on Logan's chest, his fingers combing gently through your hair, while your hand traced slow, lazy patterns on his chest. It was a small act of intimacy, but one you both cherished.

Lost in the rhythm, your hand absently wandered lower, brushing against his side. Suddenly, Logan jerked like he'd been electrocuted. His entire body tensed, and he shifted away so abruptly that you sat up, startled.

“Logan, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laced your voice as you reached for him.

He cleared his throat, his usual gruff tone tinged with embarrassment. “Nah, you didn’t hurt me. Just… don’t do that.”

You blinked, confusion evident on your face. “Don’t touch your sides?” You tilted your head, studying him as if trying to solve a puzzle. He refused to meet your gaze, instead settling back into bed and opening his arms to you, clearly ready to move on.

“Come here. We don’t have much time left before breakfast,” he said, his voice low and coaxing.

But you didn’t move. The way he avoided eye contact and the faint flush on his cheeks told you there was more to this. You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Logan…”

“Don’t,” he warned, catching the glint of mischief sparking in your eyes.

You smirked. “Are you… ticklish?”

The look of horror that crossed his face confirmed everything. He groaned, running a hand over his face. “Don’t you dare,” he growled, but the threatening tone only made you laugh.

“Oh my god, you are!” you exclaimed, grinning like a kid who just uncovered a juicy secret.

“I mean it, sweetheart. You’ll regret it.” His expression was deadly serious, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

Still laughing, you raised your hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Logan. I’m not going to tickle you. It was an accident— I didn’t know!”

He gave you a skeptical glance, clearly trying to decide whether you were trustworthy. After a tense moment, he let out a heavy sigh and opened his arms again. You nestled back against his chest, your fingers returning to their absent-minded pattern-drawing. His hand resumed its place in your hair, but his body remained slightly tense, like a predator waiting for an ambush.

The silence stretched comfortably for a few minutes before your curiosity got the better of you. “How did I never realize you were ticklish?”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “Because it’s a secret, and I’m careful. You’re lucky you caught me off guard.”

You laughed softly, your breath warm against his chest. “You know, I can keep a secret… but I can also use it against you if I want.”

His hand froze in your hair, and you felt his heartbeat quicken just slightly beneath your ear. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” You tilted your head up, giving him your best innocent smile.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, but when your hand wandered dangerously close to his side again, he didn’t notice until it was too late. Your fingers pinched his ribs lightly, and the sound that escaped his mouth—a startled yelp—was priceless.

“Y/N!” he growled, but he was already moving. In the blink of an eye, you were flat on your back, your wrists pinned above your head as he loomed over you.

“What was that little scream you just did?” you teased, bursting into laughter as he glared down at you.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he rumbled, his tone low and menacing, but the faint smirk tugging at his lips told you he was more amused than angry.

“Well, in that case…” You grinned up at him, eyes gleaming with defiance. “Maybe I should do that more often.”

Logan shook his head, clearly trying to hold onto his serious facade, but it crumbled under the weight of your laughter. The corners of his mouth twitched before he finally broke, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss that left you breathless.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered over yours, his voice gravelly and teasing. “You sure you want to keep playing? Because I’ve got other ways to make you behave.”

You arched a brow, your smirk never wavering. “Oh? Like what?”

A low growl rumbled from his chest, and before you could blink, he nipped at your bottom lip, making you gasp. His hands trailed down your sides, slow and deliberate, his touch feather-light but enough to send a shiver through you.

“Keep testing me, darlin’,” he murmured, his tone dripping with suggestion. “You might not make it to breakfast at all.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back a grin. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

His smirk widened as he leaned closer, his voice a whisper against your ear. “Good. Because breakfast can wait.”

XXX

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 10: Pillow Fight

Movie night turns into a pillow fight. Turns out feelings hit a lot harder than any cushions thrown Logan's way.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hello! second chapter of the week, a short one indeed but no less important than any others.....the movie reference in this is a 1986 terrible movie called Howard The Duck (obviously marvel related) that I talked about with my friends, and the images I saw of it gave me nightmares so yeah. I think wade would enjoy it. alright, enjoy!!!

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

There was something uniquely comforting about Wednesday nights in the apartment. It wasn’t about the tradition— they weren’t that organized. It wasn’t about the snacks either, though Wade insisted his popcorn was “life-changing.” No, it was the way they all sank into the couch like they belonged there, as though the world outside didn’t matter for a few hours.

This night had been no exception. Logan was stretched out at one end, his feet resting on the coffee table, his arms crossed over his chest like he was guarding something. Wade, of course, occupied the middle, surrounded by a fortress of snacks, commenting on how he was “the glue holding this dysfunctional family together.” Y/N had claimed the other end of the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, a blanket half-draped over her lap, more to shield herself from Wade’s crumbs than for warmth.

The credits of a movie from the eighties rolled across the screen, but no one made a move to turn it off just yet.

“All right, that movie was ridiculous,” Wade said, stretching his arms behind his head. “But in the best way possible.”

Y/N laughed. “I can’t believe you made us sit through that.”

Wade grinned. “Come on, Howard The Duck is so charismatic.”

She shook her head, chuckling. “I think you’re looking for the word horrific.”

Logan snorted quietly from his corner of the couch. “Horrific’s putting it kindly.”

Wade placed a dramatic hand over his chest. “You wound me, Logan. I bet Howard would have saved Y/N at that bar just as brilliantly as you did.”

Logan shot him a warning glance, but Y/N tilted her head in curiosity. “Oh, are we still on this?”

“Of course we are,” Wade replied, his grin widening. “It’s not every day you see ol’ broody over there pull out his knight-in-shining-armor act. So, tell us, Y/N, what’s your type? Is it the strong, silent, gloomy hero, or are you more into, you know, devilishly handsome comedians?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, caught off guard but amused. “I don’t know, Wade. But I’m curious, why do you care so much about my type?”

Wade leaned back smugly, turning towards Logan. “Oh, I’m just conducting important research, obviously.”

Logan sighed, cutting in with a warning tone. “Don’t bother her with your stupid questions.”

Wade smirked, unbothered by Logan’s irritation. “Those are not stupid questions, Peanut. Stop deflecting.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but suddenly, his lips quirked in a triumphant smirk, “Speaking of deflection, Bub… How’s Vanessa these days?”

Wade’s face immediately fell. “Low blow, man.”

Y/N blinked, intrigued. “Who’s Vanessa?”

Wade shot Logan a glare before turning back to her. “She’s, uh, someone from my past. Haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Didn’t you say you saw her a few months ago?” Logan interjected, the smirk still on his face.

Y/N’s curiosity deepened. “Did you? What did she want?”

Wade shifted uncomfortably, clearly wishing the conversation hadn’t taken this turn. “Yeah, she wanted to catch up. Said something about grabbing coffee or whatever. I haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Well,” Y/N said gently, “do you want to?”

Wade hesitated, glancing at Logan, who still looked annoyingly smug. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s complicated.”

Y/N nodded, sensing his discomfort but wanting to encourage him. “I think it’s worth figuring out, for your own sake.”

Wade’s jaw tightened briefly before he sighed, looking back at Logan. “You’re the worst.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You’re welcome.”

The tension between them was thick, but Y/N didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she turned the tables unexpectedly. “What about you, Logan? Anyone stealing your heart at the moment?”

Logan froze, caught entirely off guard. His heart skipped a beat as he looked at her, but before he could answer, Wade’s face lit up with renewed mischief.

“Right, Logan?” Wade said, leaning forward with a mock-innocent grin. “What’s going on in your love life these days?”

Logan scowled. “I’m single.”

Y/N laughed softly. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me nobody’s caught your eye. Not even a little crush?”

Logan groaned internally, feeling like the conversation would never end. “Crushes don’t matter,” he muttered.

“Bullshit,” Wade said immediately, and before he could say another word, Logan hurled a pillow at him with enough force to knock him halfway off the couch.

“What the hell!” Wade shouted, grabbing another pillow and reciprocating the hit.

“You started it,” Logan replied, ducking under Wade’s first throw but catching the second pillow square in the chest.

Y/N, watching the chaos unfold, tried to stifle her laughter. “You two are unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head. But the amusement in her voice only spurred them on.

“Oh, don’t act like you’re above this,” Wade said, turning to grab another pillow. He paused, his mischievous grin widening. “You’re part of this household, Y/N. Which means…”

Before she could react, Wade lobbed a pillow in her direction. It wasn’t hard, more playful than anything, but it still caught her by surprise.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” she said, her competitive streak kicking in. Y/N grabbed the nearest pillow and swung it at Wade, who yelped dramatically as if she’d hit him with a boulder.

Logan couldn’t help but laugh at Wade’s over-the-top reaction, which made Wade glare at him. “Don’t think you’re safe just because she’s on your side,” Wade said, spinning around and throwing another pillow straight at Logan’s head.

Logan blocked it with ease and retaliated with force, sending Wade stumbling back into the couch. Y/N, caught in the crossfire, managed to dodge one of Logan’s throws, but it made her giggle uncontrollably.

“You’re laughing now, but you’re not innocent in this,” Logan said, a smirk spreading across his face. He grabbed a pillow and aimed it at her.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Y/N said, trying to back away. “I’m Switzerland!”

“Not anymore,” Logan replied, tossing the pillow gently but deliberately at her shoulder.

Y/N gasped dramatically, scooping up two pillows as if arming herself for battle. “All right, you asked for it!” she declared, charging at Logan.

The living room descended into pure chaos. Wade took the opportunity to ambush Logan while he was distracted by Y/N’s attack, and soon the trio was locked in a ridiculous, full-blown pillow war. Wade and Logan went all out on each other, their hits landing with audible thuds that echoed through the apartment. But when their attention turned to Y/N, their swings became softer, almost careful, which only made her more determined to fight back.

“You’re holding back!” Y/N accused, swinging wildly at both of them. “Take this seriously!”

“Oh, you want serious?” Wade said. “Fine, Switzerland. Prepare for battle!”

Wade launched himself over the couch with a battle cry, landing in front of Y/N and sending a flurry of pillows her way. How did they even have all these pillows in the first place?

She shrieked, laughing so hard her sides hurt, and swung back with all the force she could muster. Logan watched for a moment, his lips twitching in amusement, before he decided to even the odds.

The fight raged on for several chaotic minutes, the trio swinging pillows and dodging hits like their lives depended on it. Wade was relentless, shouting over-the-top battle cries, but Y/N and Logan’s focus turned toward each other in a subtle shift of dynamics.

“Is that all you’ve got, Teach?” Logan taunted, blocking one of Y/N’s swings effortlessly with his forearm.

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” Y/N shot back, her grin widening as she grabbed another pillow and feigned an attack from the left before switching to the right.

Logan chuckled let her land a soft hit to his chest. “You think you’re clever, huh?”

“I know I’m clever,” she replied, her voice dripping with playful defiance. She swung again, but Logan sidestepped and used the opportunity to trap her arm with one hand while snatching the pillow from her with the other.

“That’s cheating!” Y/N gasped, trying to tug free.

“Don’t start a fight you can’t win,” Logan said, a smirk tugging at his lips again.

“Let her go, you brute!” Wade yelled dramatically from the other side of the couch, lobbing a pillow at Logan’s back. The hit landed, and Logan groaned in annoyance before releasing Y/N and spinning around to retaliate against Wade for the millionth time in this war.

Taking her chance, Y/N grabbed another pillow and smacked Logan square on the shoulder. “That’s what you get!” she exclaimed triumphantly.

Logan turned to her, feigning a glare. “You’re lucky I’m being nice.”

“Nice?” she scoffed. “You’re losing, and you know it.”

“Oh, is that right?” Logan lunged toward her with a pillow, and Y/N yelped, diving behind the couch. She grabbed the first thing she could— a fluffy cushion —and chucked it over the couch at him.

“Is that supposed to hurt?” he teased, catching it midair.

“You’re impossible!”

“I’ve been told worse,” Logan replied, throwing the cushion back at her.

Wade, meanwhile, had taken full advantage of their back-and-forth to gather an arsenal of pillows. “This is it! The final battle!” he yelled, throwing pillows at both of them in rapid succession.

It didn’t take long before the three of them collapsed in a breathless heap, laughter echoing through the living room. Y/N leaned back against the couch, trying to catch her breath as she brushed her hair out of her face.

“That was exhausting,” she said between laughs.

“Exhaustingly fun,” Wade corrected, sprawled on the floor and grinning up at the ceiling.

Logan leaned against the armrest, arms crossed, watching the scene in front of him. Then his gaze fell on her. The usual sharpness in his expression had softened, replaced by something gentler— more vulnerable. His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, but it wasn’t just that.

He was looking at her.

Not in the casual way he usually did when they were talking, but in a way that felt like he was studying her, taking her in. The glow in her cheeks, the way her laugh lingered like a melody. She wasn’t even aware of it, her focus already shifting to Wade’s nonsensical commentary.

Wade, somehow oblivious to the shift, waved a hand dramatically. “So, Y/N, admit it: Howard the Duck wasn’t that bad. He’s a cultural icon.”

“You’re delusional,” she said with a laugh, shaking her head.

Logan’s smile faded slightly as his gaze dropped to the floor. I’m so screwed.

That thought hit him harder than any pillow Wade could throw.

XXX

[benispunk]

EXAMS ARE OVER!!!! LETS GO FINISH WRITING “WHO’S THAT GIRLLLLLL”

[benispunk]

i just wrote a paper for college on x-men (2000) and obviously made it my mission to mention as much hugh and wolverine as I could.

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 9: Looking After You

What happens when a guy bothers Y/N in a bar? Logan comes to the rescue. But there's no real meaning behind this...right?

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, D&W.

A/N: hey hey hey!! so sorry for not posting on Sunday!!! but I come with great news ! the wicked witch of the west is dead!- oops nope, wrong fandom, anyway, you're getting a new chapter right now...and TWO other ones this week!!!! why??? because a special chapter is coming for Christmas!!! and like...I'm kinda bad with schedules so I have to post all these chapters before the Christmas one...alright, enjoy this one!!!!🎀

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist /Previous Part

If you had told little Y/N that this would be her life, she would probably be thrilled. 

Not just because of her deep fear of loneliness and/or the divorce of her parents haunting her every thoughts during her teenage years, no. But because of how much fun she was having. 

Not that they were going out every single day and throwing parties whenever they wanted, far from that. 

They just made her life happier. Fuller.

She definitely hadn’t been through the same traumatic events as them in her life, but she did feel out of place sometimes— as if she was too late most of the time. As a kid, and then teenager, people would always say that she was the responsible one. You know how they call you the mom friend. That’s probably what happens when you’re the one in charge of yourself when your parents are too busy making their life a living nightmare.

The thing is, she felt like an adult as a teenager, and now that she was deep into her adulthood, she felt like something was missing. Looking back at the past and noticing that some boxes haven’t been crossed and will never be. It always left her feeling frustrated and regretful.

Living with Wade and Logan, though…that was something.

And everything started falling into place.

It wasn’t any single, big thing that brought them close. Instead, it was a hundred tiny, everyday moments that started to add up, grounding her more than she’d realized.

There were late-night talks after a long day at school, worn out and ready to crash, only to find Wade stretched out on the couch, waving her over to join him for one of his favorite TV shows. They would sit there, munching on popcorn he’d burned at least twice before getting it right, laughing until their sides hurt at his running commentary. Logan would often wander in from his room, rolling his eyes but eventually plopping down with them, claiming he was “just passing through” but never actually leaving.

Each of them brought something different to her life. Wade was all chaotic energy, someone who could make a night out of anything, even if it was just a spontaneous grocery run that somehow turned into them wandering the aisles, making each other laugh as they competed to find the most bizarre snack.

Logan might be quieter, but when he did join in, he gave as good as he got. He’d take one look at Wade’s latest snack “invention,” mutter a deadpan, “You know that’s disgusting, right?” and somehow, that would start a full-blown debate. Wade would challenge him, daring him to try it, and after an exaggerated sigh, Logan would take a reluctant bite. Every time, Y/N would watch the shift, catching the way his mock-serious front softened as he leaned into the banter. Wade, of course, would just grin, teasing until Logan broke into a laugh or tossed a pillow at him.

And then there were the mornings. She’d wake up to the sound of clinking dishes and find Logan already making coffee, often still in sweatpants and looking like he hadn’t quite left his dreams behind. They would share a quiet nod or a quick “Morning” before she poured her cup and joined him at the table, where she could count on him to ask, “Got anything big planned today?” She loved those simple chats, the way he genuinely listened.

All three of them together, though— that was something else. Their dinners turned into improvisations, with Wade trying to “improve” a recipe while Logan, arms crossed and with a skeptical brow, dared him to do his worst. Y/N would end up laughing until her stomach hurt as Logan finally gave in, joining Wade’s kitchen experiments with his own twist, each trying to one-up the other in some unspoken contest. The apartment filled with their laughter, the kind of warmth and chaos that made it feel alive.

It had been a few months now that she had moved in, and as she— or they— settled into a new routine together, everything started to feel right. 

———

The bar buzzed with life as Logan and Y/N settled at a small table near the stage, waiting for Wade’s gig to begin. Logan, his usual stoic self, sat with his arms crossed, eyes scanning the crowd with a casual alertness, while Y/N tapped her foot, soaking in the atmosphere. 

“I like this place,” Y/N said, glancing around with a smile. "Kinda cozy."

Logan shrugged, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "Yeah, it’s alright. Wade actually picked a decent spot this time."

She chuckled. "Did you come to his gigs a lot before I moved in?"

"Whenever I was able to." Logan’s mouth twitched in a half-smile. "I come here so there's at least one person clapping."

Y/N laughed, nudging him with her elbow. "You’ve got backup tonight, don’t worry."

Logan’s lip quirked, and he leaned back, looking faintly amused. "Guess we’ll see."

Just then, the lights dimmed slightly as Wade sauntered onto the stage, his confidence as loud as the applause he imagined he was getting. He held the mic up dramatically. "How’s everyone doing tonight?" The crowd responded with scattered claps and a few cheers—except for Y/N, who stood up, clapping and whistling loud enough to draw curious glances.

"Wooo! Wade!" she cheered, grinning at him.

Wade’s eyes lit up, and he pointed at her with an exaggerated look of delight. "Finally! I have a real fan!"

Y/N laughed, catching Logan’s eye as she sat back down. "Told you I’d back you up."

Logan shook his head, but the smirk on his face gave him away. Wade launched into his routine, cracking jokes and jabs, his charisma filling the room. Throughout the set, Logan and Y/N exchanged knowing looks whenever Wade would refer to stuff they knew he did, or didn’t. And before they knew it, his set wrapped up. He joined them, looking more than pleased with himself, dropping into his seat, his grin wide as he took a long drink.

"Not bad, huh?" he said, reclining in his chair with a dramatic sigh.

Y/N gave him an exaggerated round of applause. "You were amazing, Wade!"

Wade mock-bowed. "Ah, stop, you’re making me blush." He shot a glance at Logan. "Even Logan cracked a smile, so you know I crushed it."

Logan rolled his eyes. "Don’t push it."

Y/N laughed, excusing herself to go to the restroom. She navigated through the crowd, but just as she neared the hallway, a man stepped into her path, blocking her way. He was slightly taller than her, with a casual smirk, one that didn’t put her at ease at all.

"Hey," he said smoothly. "I saw you cheering pretty loud for the comedian up there. What’s your name?"

Y/N offered a polite but firm smile, stepping slightly to the side. "Just here for the show," she replied, aiming to make her way around him.

But he matched her move, his smirk growing. "Don’t be like that. Why don’t you give me your number? We could grab a drink sometime."

"Thanks, but I’m not interested," Y/N said, her tone polite but clear. She tried to step around him again, but this time he reached out, catching her arm in a firm grip. The slight edge in his eyes made her pulse quicken.

"Come on," he pressed, leaning closer. "Just your number."

A chill ran down her spine, and she tensed, glancing down at his hand. "Let go of my arm," she said quietly, but her voice wavered slightly.

Just then, Logan’s voice cut through the crowd, cold and unmistakably firm. "Let her go."

The man glanced up, and his expression shifted when he saw Logan, who had closed the distance between them in silence. Logan’s gaze was intense, and his stance made everyone around them feel warned.

The man loosened his grip and stepped back. "Alright, alright," he muttered, fading quickly into the crowd.

Logan waited until the man was gone, his gaze softening only slightly as he turned to Y/N. "You okay?"

Y/N exhaled, relief washing over her as she nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.  He just appeared out of nowhere and I kind of got…confused. Don’t know how to explain it. Thank you for stepping in.” she said, her eyes meeting his.

Logan shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but a hint of protectiveness lingered in his gaze. “It’s okay. You don’t have to thank me.”

She told him she’ll be back to the table quickly as she went inside the bathroom. Meanwhile, he walked back to the table in silence. When he arrived, Wade was waiting with his usual smirk, though there was a slight curiosity in his gaze.

"Everything alright?" Wade asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at Logan.

Logan gave a brief, dismissive nod, though his posture was a bit more tense than usual. "Yeah, all good."

But Wade leaned back in his seat, one eyebrow raised. "Oh, really?" he said, drawing out the words. "What exactly happened over there, huh?"

Logan shot him a warning look. “It was nothing.”

"Nothing?" Wade repeated, clearly enjoying himself. "Then how come you jumped up faster than I’ve ever seen you move?" He tilted his head, grinning. "And you were sitting with your back to the hallway— how did you even see that guy bothering her? Were you, I don’t know… watching her?"

Logan’s jaw tightened, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "I just happened to look over, Wade."

Wade chuckled, not letting it go so easily. "Sure, just happened to look over, behind you, all the way across the bar, like a perfectly normal thing. You know, most people don’t have superhero reflexes, but hey, I guess that’s just you, huh? The author really had to give you a sixth sense, and here I thought this was a no-powers AU fic. I’m jealous now!"

Logan just rolled his eyes again, knowing that he would never hear the end of it. 

Y/N returned to the table just then, completely oblivious to the exchange between them. She smiled at Wade and Logan, though her gaze lingered on Logan, a subtle thank you in her eyes. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing at all," Wade said smoothly, but the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him. He shot a knowing look at Logan. "Just Logan saving the day."

If looks could kill, then maybe the author really did give powers to her characters, or else Wade would be dead from the amount of rage radiating from Logan’s eyes.

Y/N looked a bit surprised, her smile softening as she turned to Logan. "Well, he did save me from a pretty annoying guy." She gave Logan a warm look. "Guess I have a personal bodyguard now."

Logan shrugged, trying to hide a smile. "I wouldn’t get used to it."

"Oh, I think she should," Wade interjected, grinning. "Logan’s got a radar for trouble when it comes to you."

Logan glared at him, but Y/N only laughed, the tension easing as Wade continued to pile on the teasing.

———

The night air was cool and refreshing as they left the bar, but a palpable tension had settled between Logan and Wade. Y/N walked ahead, her steps light and relaxed, still buzzing from the performance and unaware of the tension simmering just behind her. Logan kept his gaze forward, his expression unreadable, hoping Wade might let things slide.

But, of course, he actually had no hope.

Wade slowed his pace, eventually falling into step beside Logan. He cast a sideways glance, lips twitching with a barely concealed grin. "So, Logan…" he began, his tone laced with unmistakable mischief. « What really happened back there?"

Logan exhaled, already bracing himself. "Don’t start, Wade."

"Oh, I’m definitely starting," Wade replied, the teasing edge in his voice unmistakable. He leaned in, keeping his voice low so only Logan could hear. "You jumped up faster than I’ve ever seen you move. Gotta admit, I never thought you would act like that for someone."

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he felt his face grow warmer, an embarrassment creeping up his neck that he hoped wasn’t visible. He didn’t know why but he needed to justify his actions. He had known Wade for years and he knew that whether he was answering or not his questions he just wouldn’t let it go. So, Logan trying to justify something? Well, that was definitely suspicious.  "I was just helping her out."

Wade’s grin widened, his eyes practically gleaming. "Interesting… but I just can’t help to come back to this important detail. That guy wasn’t exactly in your line of sight. And yet, somehow, you just ‘happened’ to notice her in trouble." Wade gave him a mockingly thoughtful look. "So, what is it? Are you keeping an eye on her like the protective fierce man that you are or…were you checking her out—"

"Drop it, Wade." Logan shot him a withering glare, his discomfort flaring into frustration.

"Sure, sure…" Wade said, holding up his hands in surrender. But his smirk was relentless, delighting in Logan’s reaction. "I’m just saying, maybe there’s more to this knight-in-shining-armor routine than you’re letting on."

Logan ground his teeth, forcing himself to look away from Wade’s insufferable grin. 

Why does he always have to push? he thought.

He could feel the heat rising up his neck, his reaction only fueling Wade’s suspicion, and for once, he wished he could just slip away and leave Wade’s relentless teasing behind.

For Wade, this was gold. He hadn’t seen Logan look this flustered in… well, maybe ever. And the way Logan had bolted from his seat to protect Y/N?! Oh oh, that was not something he was about to let go. In fact, he’d been waiting for something like this, knowing that behind Logan’s guarded demeanor was something he’d been working hard to bury. Wade had noticed, even if Logan hadn’t admitted it yet.

Just as Logan was about to retort, Y/N slowed her pace, looking back at them with a casual smile, blissfully unaware of the silent battle happening behind her. "Oops, sorry! Walked too fast." she said with a laugh. She gave Wade a playful shove on the shoulder. "You were really incredible up there. I want invites to all your gigs from now on."

Wade turned to her, beaming as if he hadn’t just been relentlessly teasing Logan. "Finally, some appreciation! And I’ll keep a special place just for you, beautiful." He winked at her before throwing a quick glance at Logan. "See, at least someone here recognizes real talent."

Logan glared, the weight of Wade’s unspoken insinuations only fueling his simmering frustration. 

Great. Now he’s playing innocent. 

But he bit back any response, knowing it would only feed Wade’s amusement.

Completely oblivious to the silent exchange, Y/N continued to laugh, shaking her head. "You’re a menace on stage, Wade," she said, grinning. She glanced over at Logan with this wide beautiful smile, and for a moment, he— what the fuck was happening to him. 

He just happened to look out for Y/n in a crowded place. That didn’t mean anything right? That shouldn’t mean anything. Friends look out for each other. And they were roommates. Final point. Nothing else. Nada. 

And yes he did jump quite fast into action and he would have killed the man if he had hurt her but that didn’t mean anything. That’s just the way he is. He would do that to anyone. Well, maybe not everyone. Maybe Wade. Some of his students— okay, all his students. And Y/N, yes. Because they’re friends. 

Friends. 

Wade, however, was far from finished. He gave Logan a light nudge as Y/N walked a few paces ahead again, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "What are you thinking about in that big head of yours" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

Logan’s frustration simmered, though he did his best to keep his expression neutral. This is what he wants, Logan reminded himself, to get a reaction out of me. But the way Wade’s grin lingered made his composure waver, and Logan could feel the tension building. His mind replayed the moment he’d seen Y/N’s tense expression from across the room, how a fierce protectiveness had overtaken him without a second thought.

He would have killed that man.

Wade leaned closer, his grin widening as he observed Logan’s clenched jaw. "You know, I’ve seen you keep your cool with a lot worse. But the moment she looked like she needed help, there you were. Funny how you seem to care about her more than you let on."

Logan’s voice was quiet. "I was just looking out for her."

"If you say so," Wade smirked, finally retreating but clearly savoring the effect he’d had on Logan.

Y/N turned around, giving both men a warm smile. "You two coming? Or are you planning a secret meeting back there?"

Logan forced a neutral expression, though his mind was still racing with Wade’s comments. "Right behind you," he replied, ignoring the knowing smirk that hadn’t left Wade’s face.

———

The usual playful banter was subdued as they made their way back to the apartment. Logan walked in silence, his mind replaying the night’s events. He hadn’t planned to feel so protective, and he certainly hadn’t planned on Wade dissecting every second of it. He won’t let this go, Logan thought, mentally bracing himself for whatever was coming.

Y/N stifled a yawn as they entered, stretching her arms over her head with a contented sigh. "Alright, I’m heading to bed," she said, smiling. She turned to Wade, her face warm with genuine appreciation. "Seriously, you were amazing tonight, Wade. You have a real gift."

Wade’s face lit up in an exaggerated grin, and he gave a theatrical bow. "Why, thank you, my lady! Always glad to perform for my number one fan."

Y/N laughed, amused by his antics, and then looked over at Logan. "Night, Logan. See you tomorrow."

Logan’s expression softened, his tensed demeanor slipping for a moment. "Night, Y/N."

The words came out gentler than he intended, but he held her gaze for a split second longer than usual. Y/N gave a small wave and retreated to her room, the door clicking shut behind her.

The moment she disappeared, Logan turned to see Wade standing there, arms crossed and smirking as though he’d just uncovered the world’s greatest secret. The mischief in Wade’s eyes was practically shining.

"Go to bed, Bub," Logan muttered, hoping he could somehow slip away unscathed. He made a move to walk past him, but Wade wasn’t about to let that happen.

"Oh no no no," Wade said, stepping into his path, his laughter barely contained. "After all that? After that heroic display tonight?" He crossed his arms, savoring every moment. "You honestly think I’m letting you off easy? ‘Don’t start, Wade’— well, you better believe I’m not stopping.”

Logan groaned inwardly, "Fuck off" he muttered, his frustration evident, though he knew it would only amuse Wade further.

Wade’s grin widened, his eyebrows raised in mock innocence. He shook his head, leaning in as if sharing a great conspiracy. "Come on, Peanut! The whole ‘just looking out for a friend’ thing doesn’t fool me. I mean, Y/N’s completely oblivious, but me? I see what’s going on. You, my friend, are more obvious than you think."

Logan rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the accusation as he shifted uncomfortably. Just ignore him, he told himself, though he knew that was nearly impossible. Wade wasn’t going to let him escape that easily.

Wade’s smirk only grew, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "That protective glare you gave that guy? That’s not how you look out for just any friend. Admit it, Logan—you care about her."

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away, knowing any reaction would just fuel Wade’s fire. Logan was trying really hard to resist the urge to wipe that smirk off Wade’s face.

"Shut the fuck up, now, will you?" Logan knew there was no way this was going to work. It was his own end of the world. Probably one of his worst nightmares.

Wade clapped him on the shoulder, feigning seriousness as he leaned in, his voice a loud whisper. "Sweet dreams, lover boy."

Logan groaned, flipping him off as he brushed past, Wade’s laughter echoing down the hallway. He could still hear the lingering amusement in Wade’s voice as he headed toward his room, knowing his friend wouldn’t be letting this go anytime soon. 

Later, he laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, Wade’s words still replaying in his mind. Maybe Wade’s right, he admitted to himself, feeling the slightest twinge of something he couldn’t quite name.

They were only roommates.

XXX

[benispunk]

bc i have consumed so much fic content since august ive really gotten back into reading, so much so that i bought a kindle. i have read 5 books in 8 days and i can confidently say some of yall write better plots and characters than actual published writers and nothing will bring me as much pleasure and joy as reading logan howlett content written by you all. please never stop. 🥹🫶

[benispunk]

maximum comfort;

summary: Wade Wilson grapples with guilt and self-doubt over his daughter's chronic pain, believing his mutation may be to blame.

word count: 4k

trigger warnings: chronic illness, self blame, medical anxiety, mental health, pain, suffering, stress, parental guilt.

Wade Wilson’s boots made uneven, dragging sounds against the scuffed hardwood floor of his apartment, the sound punctuated by the relentless ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. The rhythm wasn’t soothing like it might have been for someone else. No, to Wade, it was mocking. Each tick was a tiny voice in his head, whispering that time was moving forward without him, that every passing second was another moment he wasn’t good enough. It didn’t help that the clock had been a cheap garage-sale find; its hands stuttered every so often, adding a faint clunk to the already infuriating ticks.

He made another lap across the narrow confines of the living room, the heels of his boots scraping noisily, but the movement didn’t soothe him. His hands hung at his sides, twitching, restless without a clear task to keep them occupied. Occasionally, he reached up to chew the inside of his cheek, an old habit that he wasn’t proud of. It had once been something Vanessa had teased him for, but now even that memory came tinged with guilt. If she saw him doing it tonight, she’d probably frown and gently remind him that the apartment needed less self-destruction and more furniture polish.

From the slightly ajar door to his daughter’s room came the faintest sounds of her laughter. It was high and bright, like tiny wind chimes on a breezy summer day. Wade’s pacing stopped abruptly, his whole body going still. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound, trying to let it settle the churn of guilt and helplessness in his chest. It didn’t work. The laughter twisted into something painful, sharp as a blade pressed to his ribs. A sound that should have reassured him only reminded him of what wasn’t right—what might never be.

Vanessa’s voice joined the mix, steady and soothing, the perfect complement to their daughter’s giggles. Wade didn’t need to hear the words she was saying to know she was reading from Goodnight Moon. It was their daughter’s favorite book, a worn-out paperback copy that Vanessa brought with her every time she stayed over. She’d told Wade once that the cadence of the words seemed to calm their daughter better than any lullaby could. Wade had tried reading it to her himself once, but his voice was too uneven, his delivery too awkward. Vanessa had taken the book gently from his hands and picked up where he’d left off.

The memory clawed at him now as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool surface of the living room wall. He braced himself with both palms pressed flat against it, his head bowed like a man confessing to some unseen god. He drew in a slow, shaky breath, but it did little to settle the chaos in his chest.

This is my fault.

The thought crept in unbidden, unrelenting as always. It was an old, familiar refrain by now, as much a part of his internal monologue as his sarcastic quips and dark humor. He’d tried drowning it out before—with distractions, with noise, even with the reckless kind of chaos he’d once lived for—but nothing worked. The guilt always came back. It had a way of sinking its claws into him and dragging him down to places he didn’t want to go.

His mutation. His past. Every scar on his body, every choice that had brought him to this moment—they all felt like threads in a tapestry that had bound his daughter’s fate. Her condition, her pain, the sleepless nights where she whimpered softly into her pillow—it all felt like it came back to him.

He swallowed hard, his throat burning with the effort. He didn’t want to examine the truth too closely. He didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility that her chronic condition might be tied to his genes, his broken DNA. But how could he not? Every time he looked in the mirror and saw the patchwork of scars and burns that made up his reflection, the thought was there.

“Wade?”

Vanessa’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. It wasn’t sharp, but it was enough to pull him out of his spiraling thoughts. He turned slowly, his movements heavy and deliberate, to see her standing in the doorway. She leaned casually against the frame, one hand gripping the edge while the other hung loosely at her side. Her posture was relaxed, but her dark eyes were fixed on him with quiet intensity, like she was seeing every thought he was trying to hide.

Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, with stray strands curling around her face. She looked tired, but it wasn’t the kind of tired that came from a single sleepless night. It was the deeper, bone-deep weariness of someone who carried too much weight on their shoulders. It was the same look Wade had seen on his own face in the mirror far too often.

“She’s asleep,” Vanessa said softly, nodding toward the bedroom behind her. Her voice was low, meant to soothe rather than startle. “You coming to bed?”

Wade hesitated, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. The motion felt awkward, his hand catching briefly on the edge of his collar. He forced a grin, but it felt more like a grimace. “Yeah, just… thinking about renovations. You know, turning this place into a palace fit for a princess. Maybe a drawbridge? A moat? Crocodile pit, if we’re feeling fancy.”

Vanessa took a step closer, dropping her arms to her sides as she approached him. She stopped just short of touching him, her expression softening as she tilted her head to study his face. Finally, she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The touch was steady, grounding, and Wade let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Stop it,” she said softly, her tone firm but kind. “You’re a good dad, Wade. You know that, right?”

“Sure,” he replied, his voice too light, too empty to be convincing. “A real Hallmark special waiting to happen. ‘World’s Okayest Dad,’ that’s me.”

Vanessa sighed, her thumb brushing over the fabric of his shirt in a way that felt almost absentminded. “Get some sleep,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You can beat yourself up tomorrow.”

The next morning, weak sunlight filtered through the living room curtains, the drawn fabric muting the brightness into thin, lazy streaks that stretched across the cluttered floor. Dust motes swirled in the faint beams, undisturbed by the hum of the apartment. The smell of breakfast—burnt batter mingled with the sweetness of maple syrup—lingered heavily in the air, a testament to the chaotic yet endearing disaster Wade Wilson called his culinary skills.

The kitchen was in a state of barely controlled chaos. The counters were splattered with pancake batter, streaks of flour marking where Wade had attempted to measure “the perfect amount” without actually using a measuring cup. The stove wore the evidence of his overenthusiasm: sizzling droplets of grease and a faint scorch mark where one pancake had met an untimely end. Yet, in the midst of the disarray, Wade stood triumphantly, wielding a spatula like a knight preparing for battle.

“Morning, munchkin!” he bellowed, his voice ringing through the room with the exaggerated flair of a Broadway actor making his debut. He spun dramatically away from the stove, his movements so theatrical that the spatula caught a dollop of batter, sending it splattering onto the already-sticky floor. He didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t care. His attention was focused entirely on the little figure seated at the kitchen table.

His daughter looked up from her seat, her face lighting up with uncontainable glee. Her small hands gripped the edge of the table for balance as she swung her legs back and forth, the heels of her tiny sneakers barely grazing the floor. Beside her sat her constant companion—a well-loved stuffed rabbit missing one ear and sporting a lopsided grin thanks to years of wear. The rabbit’s button eyes stared out at the chaos like a silent witness, its threadbare body a testament to how much comfort it had provided.

Wade’s antics were already in full swing. “Prepare yourself!” he declared, flipping a pancake high into the air. His daughter gasped, her eyes wide with wonder as the golden disk spun lazily, defying gravity for just a moment before landing—slightly off-center—on the waiting plate.

“Ta-da!” Wade exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air as though he’d just performed an Olympic feat. “Ladies and gentlemen, the world’s most *perfect* pancake! Please, hold your applause.”

His daughter erupted into giggles, clapping her hands together as she bounced in her seat. Her laughter filled the room, loud and infectious, and Wade couldn’t help but grin wider. For a moment, everything felt light, simple.

“What’s the game plan today?” Wade asked, tossing the spatula onto the counter with a flourish and spinning back toward the table. “World domination? Building a rocket ship? Or should we just eat pancakes until we can’t move?”

“Pancakes!” she declared, her voice filled with the kind of unwavering certainty that only a child could muster. She clapped her hands again, the sound sharp and cheerful.

“Pancakes it is!” Wade clapped his hands in sync with hers, nodding as if she’d just outlined the day’s most ambitious mission. He turned to grab the syrup, his movements as energetic as ever. But in his enthusiasm, his foot caught the leg of one of the chairs, throwing him off balance.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he exclaimed, stumbling forward and flailing as he tried to regain control. The plate of pancakes wobbled precariously in his grip, and for a split second, it seemed like disaster was inevitable. But with a last-second adjustment, Wade managed to save the plate from tipping entirely. “Son of a—fudging muffin!” he shouted, straightening himself with an exaggerated sigh of relief.

His daughter burst into laughter, her giggles bubbling over until she could barely catch her breath. “Fudging muffin!” she repeated gleefully, the words tumbling out between her peals of laughter.

“That’s right,” Wade said, turning to her with an expression of mock seriousness. He pointed the syrup bottle at her like a gavel. “Fudging muffin. Watch your language, young lady. This is a respectable establishment.”

She laughed even harder, clutching her sides as she leaned forward in her seat. The sound was like music, filling the kitchen and warming the air despite the chilly streaks of morning sunlight. Wade watched her with a soft smile, his expression losing some of its theatrics. In moments like this, when she was laughing and carefree, it was easy to believe that things were okay. That he was okay.

“Alright, alright,” he said, setting the plate down in front of her and uncapping the syrup with a flourish. “One stack of pancakes, syrupy and perfect, for the munchkin extraordinaire. And one burned masterpiece for her humble chef.”

He set a slightly darker, more misshapen pancake on his own plate and took a seat across from her. His daughter reached eagerly for her fork, but not before arranging her rabbit so it could “watch” her eat. Wade leaned back in his chair, propping his chin in his hand as he watched her dig in.

“Don’t forget to leave a bite for Sir Flufferton,” he teased, nodding toward the rabbit. “He looks like he’s starving.”

She grinned at him, syrup already smudged at the corners of her mouth. “He only likes the crispy parts.”

“Well, that makes one of us,” Wade quipped, cutting into his own pancake.

For a moment, as they sat together in the sunlight-dappled kitchen, the chaos and clutter seemed to fade into the background. It wasn’t perfect—nothing ever was—but it was enough.

The sterile hum of the doctor’s office was the kind of sound that burrowed under your skin. Fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above, casting a pale, almost sickly glow on the whitewashed walls and linoleum floor. Wade sat awkwardly in one of the plastic chairs, his leg bouncing incessantly, the motion betraying the tension coiling in his chest. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale air, the perfect cocktail to make Wade feel completely out of his depth.

His daughter was seated beside him, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside her father. She was completely engrossed in her coloring book, her small hands moving deftly as she switched between crayons. Her focus was intense, her tongue poking out slightly as she filled in the cape of a superhero she’d imagined herself. The crayons were scattered haphazardly across the small table in front of her, a rainbow of wax that added a splash of life to the otherwise lifeless room.

On her other side sat Logan, the picture of calm indifference. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, his expression as unreadable as ever. Wade glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, begrudgingly grateful for the man’s presence. Logan had an uncanny knack for blending into any environment, even one as clinical and soulless as this.

“Thanks for coming,” Wade muttered under his breath, scratching at the back of his neck as though the motion could somehow lessen his discomfort. “You know, to decode all the medical mumbo jumbo. Dyslexia said ‘screw you.’”

Logan grunted in response—a low, gravelly sound that Wade had learned to interpret as his version of you’re welcome.

Despite himself, Wade felt a small measure of relief knowing Logan was there. His presence was steadying in a way Wade couldn’t quite articulate, though he’d never admit it out loud. The weight in his chest eased slightly, though his leg continued its nervous bouncing.

A nurse called their names, and Wade immediately felt his throat tighten. He turned to his daughter, forcing a grin. “Alright, munchkin, time to let the docs take a peek. You ready?”

She looked up at him, her big, trusting eyes full of curiosity rather than fear. “Will they have stickers?” she asked, already sliding off her chair with her stuffed rabbit tucked under her arm.

“Stickers, lollipops, maybe even a free car,” Wade replied, his voice overly cheerful. “And if they don’t, we riot.”

Logan stood silently, unfolding himself from his chair and towering over the pair as they walked toward the examination room. Wade let his daughter skip ahead, watching as she clutched her rabbit tightly. Logan stayed close behind, a silent but imposing figure who seemed to draw the attention of the nurses as they passed.

Once inside, the examination room felt even smaller than the waiting area. Wade perched on a stool in the corner, his knee bouncing again as his daughter climbed onto the examination table. She swung her legs idly, holding her rabbit in her lap like it was her own personal bodyguard. Logan leaned against the wall, his arms crossed once more, watching everything with quiet scrutiny.

When the doctor arrived, Wade’s usual confidence faltered. The man was kind enough, but the moment he began rattling off terms Wade didn’t understand, the walls seemed to close in. His chest tightened as the doctor flipped through charts and spouted words that felt like a foreign language.

Logan, however, was a wall of calm. As the doctor spoke, Logan stepped in without hesitation. “Hold on,” he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the clinical jargon. “What exactly does that mean? What’s the long-term outlook here?”

The doctor blinked, momentarily thrown off by Logan’s directness, but he recovered quickly. “Well, what I’m saying is, her condition is chronic but manageable. Pain management is our focus, and with the right treatment plan—”

“Be specific,” Logan interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. “What treatments are you talking about? Medications? Therapy? What’s going to make her feel better now?”

Wade felt the tension in his chest ease slightly as Logan continued to ask questions. The other man’s calm, measured approach gave Wade the space to focus on his daughter, who was now absently fidgeting with the rabbit’s worn ear. Wade leaned forward, pulling a face to make her giggle as Logan pressed the doctor further.

“And what about side effects?” Logan asked, his arms still crossed but his gaze sharp. “These medications you’re talking about—how are they going to affect her long-term? I don’t want her trading one problem for another.

The doctor hesitated, clearly not used to being questioned so thoroughly, but he answered nonetheless. “The side effects are generally mild, though we’d monitor her closely to ensure—”

“You’re going to do more than monitor,” Logan said firmly. “I want specifics on how you’re planning to adjust the treatment if things don’t work. We’re not waiting months for something that might not help.”

Wade felt a pang of gratitude he couldn’t quite put into words. Logan’s interrogation wasn’t just for his benefit—it was for his daughter’s. And as much as Wade wanted to be the one asking those questions, his mind was too scattered, too overwhelmed to process everything being thrown at them.

“Thanks, Doc,” Logan said finally, his tone clipped but polite. “We’ll be looking into everything you said. Write it down.”

The doctor nodded, scribbling onto the chart before excusing himself from the room. As the door closed behind him, Wade let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“You’re like a human Xanax, you know that?” Wade said, his voice lighter now as he turned to Logan.

Logan snorted, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just doing what needs to be done.”

“Yeah, well,” Wade said, his voice softening as he glanced at his daughter. “Thanks. Really.”

Logan didn’t respond, but the slight incline of his head spoke volumes. It was a quiet moment, but in it, Wade felt something solid—a reminder that he wasn’t in this alone.

His daughter piped up suddenly, holding up her rabbit like it was making its own declaration. “Sir Flufferton says thank you too!”

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Tell Sir Flufferton he’s welcome.”

Wade grinned, reaching out to ruffle his daughter’s hair. “See? Even Sir Flufferton thinks you’re a superhero.”

Logan rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. And for the first time that day, the weight in Wade’s chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the apartment in hues of soft orange and pink that filtered through the thin curtains. Wade stood in the center of the living room, hands on his hips, surveying the chaotic mess of blankets, pillows, and string lights scattered around him. He had spent the better part of an hour scavenging every soft surface and light source the apartment could offer, all with one singular goal in mind: to create the most extravagant, over-the-top pillow fort his daughter had ever seen.

“This,” Wade announced dramatically to no one in particular, “will be my magnum opus. Michelangelo had his Sistine Chapel. I’ve got this.”

The apartment, usually cluttered with Wade’s random memorabilia and an assortment of mismatched furniture, had been transformed into a fortress of fluff and light. Blankets were draped over the backs of chairs and couches, anchored in place with books and the occasional action figure. Pillows of all shapes and sizes were arranged to create a plush, impenetrable floor. Hanging from the fort’s ceiling were string lights that twinkled like tiny stars, casting a warm glow over the entire structure. At the center of it all was a heating pad shaped like a unicorn, its cheerful face beaming as if it were as proud of the creation as Wade was.

“Maximum effort,” Wade muttered under his breath as he adjusted the final string light. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from his brow. “Now that’s what I call fortifying the home front.”

His daughter sat on the couch nearby, clutching her beloved stuffed rabbit, Sir Flufferton. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she watched Wade put the finishing touches on his masterpiece. She hadn’t said much during the process, content to let her dad work his magic, but her excitement was palpable.

“Alright, munchkin,” Wade said, spinning on his heel and pointing dramatically at her. “Your chariot awaits! Or, in this case, your pain-free zone. It’s like a spa, but with way more blankets and zero creepy flute music.”

She giggled, hopping off the couch and running toward the fort. Wade caught her mid-run, lifting her into the air and spinning her around before depositing her gently onto the fort’s cushioned floor. She squealed with delight, her laughter ringing through the room and chasing away the heavy shadows that had been clinging to Wade all day.

“Maximum effort for my favorite human,” Wade declared, bowing deeply as though he were a knight swearing fealty to his queen.

“Thank you, Sir Dad,” she said, her voice small but filled with happiness. She flopped back onto the pillows, hugging Sir Flufferton close as she gazed up at the string lights. “It’s so pretty.”

“Pretty?” Wade placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “This is not just pretty, young lady. This is a masterpiece. A work of art. I expect a standing ovation every time you step inside this thing.”

Her giggles filled the air again, and Wade felt his heart lighten, if only a little. Seeing her smile, seeing her look so carefree despite the struggles she faced, made every ounce of effort worth it.

As the evening wore on, Wade tucked her into the fort with care, adjusting the blankets around her to ensure maximum coziness. She looked up at him with sleepy eyes, her smile softening as the warmth of the fort began to lull her into relaxation.

“Alright, munchkin,” Wade said, settling himself onto the floor beside the fort. “Storytime. What’ll it be? Pirates? Robots? A thrilling tale of the world’s most dashing, handsome, and slightly unhinged mercenary?”

She giggled again, shaking her head. “You pick.”

Wade stroked his chin, pretending to think deeply. “Okay, how about this: Once upon a time, there was a superhero. But not just any superhero—this one had a special power. Wanna know what it was?”

She nodded, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“This superhero had the power to feel pain,” Wade began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know what you’re thinking: That doesn’t sound like much of a power, right? But here’s the thing—because they could feel pain, they were stronger than anyone else. Every bump, every bruise, every bad day made them tougher. They didn’t give up, no matter what.”

Her brows furrowed slightly as she listened, clutching Sir Flufferton a little tighter.

“They used their strength to help people,” Wade continued, his tone growing more serious. “Because they knew what it was like to hurt, and they didn’t want anyone else to feel that way. They were brave, not because they weren’t scared, but because they kept going even when things were hard.”

He paused, glancing down at her. Her expression was thoughtful, her small fingers idly stroking the rabbit’s worn fur.

“See,” Wade said softly, his voice steady even as his chest ached, “the thing about pain is that it doesn’t make you weaker. It makes you stronger. Like, super-duper strong. Stronger than me, even. And I’m pretty freakin’ strong.”

“Language,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“Right. Sorry, munchkin,” Wade said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

He reached out to smooth her hair, his hand lingering for a moment as he watched her eyes flutter closed. For the first time in what felt like days, Wade let himself breathe. The guilt, the worry, the constant weight on his shoulders—it was still there, but for now, it didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The apartment was quiet save for the faint hum of the string lights and the soft sound of his daughter’s breathing. Wade leaned back against the couch, letting his head fall against the cushions as he closed his eyes.

“Goodnight, munchkin,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. And in the soft glow of the pillow fort, for just a moment, everything felt okay.

[benispunk]

why is nobody talking about the fact logan is ticklish ???? I was rewatching x-men and it’s RIGHT THERE and NO ONE CARES

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 8: You're All I Need To Get By

One day, Logan decided to enter a bar and his life changed forever.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, alcohol, D&W.

A/N: hello everyoneeee!!!! here is one of my most favorite chapter of this series!!! so this is a flashback obviously, it takes place about 6/7 years before the main timeline AND it's basically how Logan and Wade met... I love them, your honor.

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

The rain fell in a steady rhythm, tapping against the concrete like a metronome keeping pace with Logan’s heavy steps. His jacket was soaked through, but he didn’t care. The damp cold gnawed at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill in his chest, the gnawing sensation he had been carrying for what felt like years. That sense of being adrift, of not belonging to any moment or place.

It had been two, maybe three years since he’d left the army. Time felt blurred, like one endless cycle of meaningless days. He could still feel the weight of the past pressing down on him— his time in the service, the things he’d done, the people he couldn’t save. Sometimes, it was as if his memories were trapped in a fog, creeping up on him when he least expected it.

His new job at the special education center had been a lifeline of sorts, something to keep him anchored. It had only been three months since he’d started, and though he’d grown fond of the kids, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was barely holding on. The stress, the nightmares, the pressure of everyday life— it all felt like too much.

Logan wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going like this. He’d managed to get through another week at work, but tonight, he felt particularly worn down. Exhausted. The faces of his students, the weight of his responsibilities, everything seemed to pile on top of him. That’s how he ended up here, standing in front of a random bar, hoping for a moment of silence, something to quiet down the constant noise in his head.

The neon lights flickered weakly, reflected in the wet streets as Logan pushed open the door. Warmth and the low hum of voices greeted him, but it wasn’t comforting. It was loud, too loud, just like everything else in his life. But at least here, surrounded by strangers, he could disappear for a while. Just sit, drink, and maybe forget. And drink again. 

Logan moved towards the bar, head down, making sure to keep his distance from the clusters of people laughing and talking. The seat he chose was near the end of the counter, a quieter spot, just far enough from the action. He sighed heavily as he sat down, barely glancing at the bartender who appeared in front of him.

"Whiskey. Neat," he muttered, his voice rough, barely audible over the noise.

The bartender nodded. “Sure thing, Mr. Serious,” he quipped, pouring the drink with a bit more flair than necessary. “Rough day?”

Logan didn’t even look up, keeping his eyes trained on the amber liquid as it was placed in front of him. “You could say that.”

He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Hell, he wasn’t in the mood for anything other than silence. But the bartender didn’t seem to care about Logan’s mood—or his obvious desire to be left alone.

“Yeah? Well, I got just the cure for that—alcohol and terrible jokes,” the bartender added with a wink, before moving off to another customer.

Logan took a slow sip of his drink, letting the burn of the whiskey settle in his throat, grounding him for a moment. He kept his head down, trying to block out the noise, the laughter, the life happening all around him. A part of him wondered how everyone else did it—how they moved through the world with such ease, while he felt like every day was a battle just to stay afloat.

He tried remembering if he ever had that in his past. If his life had ever been that simple, maybe less miserable or dangerous. The fact he couldn’t recall one happy memory made him want to lean over the counter and take all the bottles there, downing them straight in one go.

His thoughts drifted back to work, to Charles’ center. It wasn’t easy, but it was… something. Something that, on good days, gave him a sliver of purpose. His students—those kids—had already been through so much, and they were only just beginning to find their place in the world. He saw a lot of himself in them, in their struggle, in their quiet resilience. But most days, he felt like he was failing them, like he was still failing everyone.

Logan rubbed his temples, the weight of his thoughts sinking deeper. Another long sip of whiskey followed, and he let the warmth spread through him, hoping it would numb the ache. But even as the alcohol took the edge off, he couldn’t shake the exhaustion pressing down on him.

Maybe if he couldn’t recall his happy memories it was because he was drunk in most of them?

Time passed— how much, he couldn’t say. He stared into the glass, his mind lost somewhere between past regrets and the crushing weight of the present. He was vaguely aware of the bartender moving in and out of his peripheral vision, tending to customers, laughing, telling some stupid joke that had the whole bar roaring with laughter.

Logan didn’t want to laugh. He didn’t want to join in. But every now and then, he found his eyes drifting to the bartender— Wade, his name-tag said —and the way he seemed to effortlessly command the room. There was something about him, something disarming.

At first, Wade had been an annoyance, just another loud presence in a world that felt too loud already. But as Logan sat there, watching him move through the crowd with ease, throwing out jokes, making people laugh… Logan found himself almost envious. Wade made everything look so simple, so easy. He moved through life like he didn’t have a care in the world, like nothing weighed him down.

It wasn’t long before the bar started to empty out, the noise fading as the night grew late. Logan had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize the bar was about to close until Wade appeared in front of him again, wiping down the counter with an exaggerated flourish.

“You’ve been sitting there for hours, man,” Wade said, leaning against the bar with a grin. “Bar’s about to close. You alright?”

Logan blinked, suddenly aware of how late it had gotten. He hadn’t even finished his drink, the ice long since melted. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rough. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”

He reached for his wallet, ready to pay, but Wade waved him off.

“Nah, this one’s on the house,” Wade said, his grin softening into something that resembled actual warmth. “You looked like you needed it.”

Oh. Logan paused, surprised by the gesture. He didn’t say much, just nodded, feeling an odd sense of gratitude he didn’t know how to express.

Before he could stand to leave, Wade spoke up again, this time a little quieter, a little more sincere. “Hey, feel free to come back whenever. It’s not the worst place to hang out when you need a break.”

Logan didn’t say anything at first, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel the urge to push someone away. He nodded once, quietly, before heading for the door. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and reflective under the dim streetlights.

As he stepped out into the cool night air, Logan couldn’t help but feel… lighter. Just a little. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And right now, he’d take anything he could get. Even if he didn’t deserve it.

———

A week had passed since Logan’s last visit to the bar, but the weight on his shoulders hadn’t lifted. His job at the center was growing on him, and the kids were starting to feel like a reason to keep going. But there was still that constant murmur of unease, the anxiety that clung to him like a second skin. Most days, it was bearable. Some days though, it felt like drowning.

Tonight, the streets were quieter, and Logan made his way back to the bar. He didn’t have a specific reason for returning there, it was just something he felt drawn to, like a familiar place where he could sit in silence and, for a little while, forget everything else.

The neon sign above the door flickered in the same weak pattern as the week before. When he stepped inside, the place seemed less crowded. It was game night, and most of the customers were glued to the large screen mounted on the wall, the roar of the game commentator filling the room.

Logan walked to the same spot at the end of the bar, near the far wall where it was a little more secluded. He wasn’t expecting anyone to pay attention to him. But just as he sat down, he heard the same familiar voice.

“Well, look who’s back!” Wade’s voice was louder than the low hum of the bar, cutting through Logan’s quiet thoughts. “Mr. Serious, right on time. Thought I scared you off last time.”

Logan looked up, surprised to find Wade already moving towards him, his grin wide and easy. Wade didn’t wait for Logan to order— he was already pouring the whiskey, setting the glass in front of him before Logan could even open his mouth.

“I didn’t—” Logan started, then stopped, unsure how to respond. He hadn’t expected to be remembered, let alone for Wade to remember his drink.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Wade interrupted with a wave of his hand. “I got it. Whiskey, neat. Same as last time. You’ve got that ‘I need a drink but don’t wanna talk about it’ look again.”

Logan blinked. He wasn’t used to people paying attention to him like that, and it unsettled him, even if it was just about his drink.

Wade leaned against the bar, glancing around at the tables where most of the customers were focused on the game. “Ugh, I hate game nights,” he sighed dramatically, wiping a nonexistent spot on the counter. “I mean, look at this. All these people, and no one’s here for me. They’re all staring at that damn screen like I don’t even exist.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, unable to help the small flicker of amusement that sparked in his chest.

“Boring as hell,” Wade continued, shaking his head. “Normally, I’m the star of the show, you know? People come here to be entertained. But on game nights? Pfft, forget it. I’m just here to pour drinks and watch people yell at a TV.”

Logan sipped his whiskey, the corner of his mouth twitching in the barest hint of a smile. Wade was different from anyone he’d ever met. Loud, sure, but oddly genuine. It was like he didn’t care about making an impression— he just was.

Wade caught Logan’s almost-smile and pointed at him, his face lighting up. “Oh, wait a minute. Is that a smile I see? Careful, man, you’ll ruin your reputation.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “ Is it?”

Wade shrugged, wiping down a glass with a rag. “You’ve got that whole brooding thing going on. It works for you, don’t get me wrong. But if you ever wanna, you know, change the channel in your brain’s TV, I’m your guy.”

Logan didn’t reply, just took another sip, but he couldn’t deny that Wade’s antics were… refreshing. He had a way of filling the space, his presence loud and bright, in contrast to the usual suffocating silence Logan carried with him.

“So, what do you do, anyway?” Wade asked, resting his elbows on the counter as he leaned in, clearly curious. “You look like a firefighter or one of those ex-military types. Maybe a cop? Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

Logan hesitated, unsure if he wanted to share that part of himself. Wade had hit closer to the truth than he knew, and Logan’s time in the military was something he wasn’t ready to unpack for a stranger. So he sidestepped. “I’m a teacher.”

Wade froze, mid-wipe, his face twisting in confusion. “Wait. What?”

Logan gave a small nod, raising his glass to his lips again. “Special education teacher.”

For a second, Wade just stared at him, mouth slightly open, as if processing the information. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spread across his face. “Man, you—you’re a teacher? I mean, no offense, but I was really expecting something like, I don’t know, ‘I wrestle bears for a living’ or ‘claws come out of my hands when I’m angry’ type of superhero. The author really took the no-powers AU to the letter.”

Logan’s lips twitched again, and before he knew it, a low laugh escaped him— unexpected, warm, and real. It had been so long since he’d laughed like that, he barely recognized the sound of it.

“So, what else does a teacher do on a night like this?” Wade asked, smoothly continuing the conversation, as if nothing had changed.

Logan shook his head, still chuckling under his breath. “Not much. Usually grading papers, I guess.”

Wade made a disgusted face. “And I thought my job was boring tonight.”

Logan huffed, the tension in his chest easing with the rhythm of their conversation. Wade had somehow broken through. But he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. He let Logan breathe.

Logan settled back in his seat, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. Wade drifted off to serve the other customers, but he returned often, refilling drinks or making some sarcastic comment about the game on TV. And every time he came back, he checked in with Logan, like he was making sure the conversation didn’t end too soon.

It was strange. Logan wasn’t used to this. Someone breaking through the walls he’d spent years building. But Wade seemed to make it easy. It wasn’t that Logan had let his guard down completely, but for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to keep it up so tightly.

By the end of the night, when Wade started wiping down the bar and flipping chairs onto the tables, Logan realized that once again, he’d stayed until closing. He hadn’t even noticed the hours pass, caught in the flow of the conversation.

As Logan stood to leave, Wade shot him a quick smile. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Logan nodded, slipping a hand into his pocket. “Same time next week?”

Wade grinned. “You bet. I’ll have your whiskey ready. I’ll even throw in some peanuts if you’re kind enough.”

Logan turned to leave, the door swinging shut behind him. And for the second time in two weeks, he left the bar feeling… lighter. The world outside still pressed in on him, heavy and cold, but Wade had managed to crack something open, just a little.

And for that, Logan was grateful.

———

Over the next few weeks, Logan became a regular at the bar, showing up almost every night like clockwork. He never said much, but he was always there, always at the same seat, nursing the same drink. Wade, in his usual style, would chat away, spinning wild stories and throwing quips, never needing much from Logan but his presence.

One night, as Wade slid the usual whiskey in front of him without even asking, Logan glanced up and said, “You never asked my name.”

Wade paused for a second, an exaggerated look of realization crossing his face. “Sweet baby chimichanga, you’re right! I’ve been pouring whiskey for months to a stranger. What kind of a gentleman am I?” He shook his head dramatically, a hand on his heart. “Alright, mystery man, spill it.”

Logan smirked, a subtle but telling expression. “Logan.”

Wade grinned wide and slapped the bar. “Logan. Well, I’m Wade, though you probably figured that out from all the autographs I’ve been giving.” He leaned in as if sharing a secret. “I’m kind of a big deal.”

Logan chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “Yeah, I bet.”

From that point on, their banter grew more familiar, the teasing easier. Wade didn’t ask too many personal questions, and Logan appreciated that. He liked the way Wade kept things light, but every so often, he’d throw out something real, something that tugged at the corners of the silence between them, that would make them grow closer.

One night, weeks later, after the bar had quieted and the crowds had thinned out to just a few people, Wade leaned against the counter, wiping a glass and sighed. Logan noticed the change in his usually dynamic demeanor. Wade’s grin wasn’t there, replaced by a quieter version of himself. Logan never thought he would actually miss it.

“Long day?” Logan asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Wade chuckled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Nah, just... life, you know?” He glanced up at Logan. “Ever told you about Vanessa?”

Logan shook his head, listening closely now.

“We were together for years,” Wade continued, wiping the same spot on the glass absentmindedly. “Loved her more than anything, but... I wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good for her. Too much... too much of me to deal with, you know?” Wade’s voice dropped slightly. “She deserved better, and I knew that. But it still sucked.”

Logan was silent, just watching Wade, waiting for him to say more if he wanted to.

“I kept thinking I’d change, fix all the mess in my head, but... that’s not how it works, right? No one can fix you. You gotta do it yourself.” He looked up, meeting Logan’s gaze. “I wasn’t ready to do that. Still not, really, but... I knew we couldn’t keep going. And she had all these big projects for herself. I was an obstacle. I saw it. And I…I mean we agreed, not that there was an actual choice, anyway, we agreed to end it. The relationship.”

Logan didn’t say anything right away. He just nodded, understanding something in Wade’s words. “It’s not easy,” he finally said, voice low.

Wade gave a short laugh, more bitter than anything else. “No kidding.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the sound of the muted TV in the background barely noticeable. Wade, for once, didn’t fill the space with his usual chatter, and Logan found himself respecting the quiet between them.

“You ever been through something like that?” Wade asked, his tone still casual but with a hint of genuine curiosity.

Logan exhaled slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. “Not exactly. But... yeah. Different demons but…same struggles.”

Wade smiled softly, not pushing for more. He understood that Logan wasn’t the type to spill everything in one go, and that was fine by him. He’d gotten further with him than most people probably had.

Over the next few months, they grew even closer. Logan found himself looking forward to their conversations, whether at the bar or somewhere else. They started hanging out outside the bar, exchanging their numbers and all. Logan would say they were friends. Wade would add the « best » before the word.

They’d fall into these deep talks, ones that started with Wade’s humor and somehow drifted into something more real. Logan talked about his struggles as a teacher at the special ed center, and Wade, despite all his jokes, listened seriously.

The more they talked, the more Logan realized that Wade’s loud, chaotic energy was a front, a shield for his own pain. And in Wade, Logan saw someone who understood the dark places he tried to bury, even if they had different ways of dealing with it.

One evening, when the bar was quieter than usual, Wade threw a towel over his shoulder and sat down across from Logan at the counter.

“You know,” Wade said, smirking, “I think I’m rubbing off on you. You’ve been laughing more lately. Not that I’m surprised. I am incredibly funny.”

Logan snorted. “Maybe I’m just getting used to your terrible jokes, bub.”

Wade grinned. “That’s what they all say. Until they admit I’m a comedic genius.”

Their bond had formed into something solid, a real friendship. Wade became one of the few people Logan could actually stand to be around, someone who saw past the walls and the quiet brooding and still stuck around. And Logan, despite himself, found that he cared more than he ever expected to.

Time passed like that—quiet nights at the bar, loud nights at other places, and conversations that lasted longer than either of them had planned. Wade’s energy was exactly what Logan needed, and in turn, Wade found a steadiness in Logan that he hadn’t expected.

Their friendship felt natural, inevitable. But neither of them realized just how much they’d come to rely on each other until the day Wade needed a place to stay.

———

Another late night at the bar, Wade was ranting as usual. He wiped down the counter with exaggerated frustration, talking to Logan like he was the only person in the world who would understand.

“I swear, my landlord is out of his damn mind,” Wade grumbled, tossing the rag aside. “I mean, who raises rent by that much? How am I supposed to afford this place and still have money for essentials? Like food. And beer. The important stuff!”

Logan took a sip of his whiskey, eyebrow raised. He didn’t say much, but Wade could tell he was listening. Wade always knew.

“And don’t get me started on finding a new place,” Wade continued, flopping dramatically onto the barstool in front of Logan. “It’s like a full-time job just looking for somewhere decent. You gotta call a million people, view a bunch of tiny shoeboxes, and then probably sell a kidney to afford it. Meanwhile, my paycheck? A joke.” He leaned back, throwing his arms up. “I might as well live in this bar.”

Logan smirked slightly but remained quiet. As Wade rambled on, Logan found his mind wandering. He’d been struggling with his own place for a while now, too. Rent was higher than he liked, and the isolation wasn’t helping. But earlier that day, his colleague, Scott, had mentioned something— a big apartment nearby was looking for new roommates. The place was empty, ready to be filled.

Another late night at the bar, Wade was ranting as usual. He wiped down the counter with exaggerated frustration, talking to Logan like he was the only person in the world who would understand.

“There’s this place,” Logan said, interrupting Wade’s rambling. Wade looked up, surprised Logan was chiming in. “One of my colleagues said something about an apartment. Empty. They’re looking for new roommates.”

Wade’s eyes lit up. “Wait, seriously? That sounds amazing. But... where the hell am I gonna find people to room with? I mean, strangers? That’s a recipe for disaster.” He shook his head. “I don’t do well with randoms.”

Logan was quiet for a moment. The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“I could.”

Wade froze mid-rant, his mouth hanging open in shock. “Wait. What?”

“I could be your roommate,” Logan said, as casually as if he’d said it a hundred times before. But it was the first time. And it surprised even him.

Wade blinked, then a huge grin spread across his face. “Holy freaking guacamole! Are you serious? You and me? Roommates? We could be roommates?”

Logan shrugged, a little awkward but still firm in his offer. “Yeah. Why not?”

“Why not?!” Wade’s eyes widened as he leaned forward on the bar. “Peanut, this is perfect. Perfect! You’ve got the whole brooding, quiet thing going on, and I’ve got, well, everything else. And—” Wade paused for dramatic effect, “I’m very tidy. Mostly. Sometimes. But I can be, for you, buddy.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Oh, you will, peanut. You will.” Wade slapped the bar with excitement. “This is going to be epic. EPIC.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head at Wade’s enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure how they had reached this point, but the idea of sharing a space with Wade didn’t sound as bad as it should have. In fact, it sounded... kind of right.

“We need the info!” Wade exclaimed, bouncing on his feet.

“I’ll send a text to my colleague.” Logan said, still getting used to the idea.

“Deal, roomie!” Wade slapped the counter, already full of energy about their new future together. “We’re gonna crush this. You’ll see!”

Logan smirked, taking another sip of his drink. It felt like a step forward. One he didn’t realize he needed to take until now.

The rest, as they say, was history.

XXX

[benispunk]

Ornament Decorating

Let’s get into the holiday spirit. Welcome to my 7 days of holiday one-shots. I celebrate christmas so sorry to anyone who doesn’t but i hope you can still enjoy it.

You helped some of the students decorate ornaments until they got bored. Now, you and some of the other adults decide to do it.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, ornament decorating, x-men group, logan is a softie

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @saradika

You sat in the mansion's large dining room, a scattering of paint pots, glitter, and craft supplies spread across the round wooden table. A few of the younger kids had joined you for the holiday ornament-making activity, but, as usual, they’d lost interest halfway through, leaving their half-finished decorations behind in favor of playing tag in the hallways.

“At least you tried,” Ororo said, handing you a few of the ornaments abandoned by the kids. She chuckled, shaking her head as she looked at the quirky snowman with one eye that had already begun to droop. "I did see a few of them smiling, though. That counts for something."

You sighed, though a smile crept onto your face as you picked up the snowman and gave it a small touch-up. "Guess that’s all I can hope for," you replied, brushing a bit of glitter off your hands. "Besides, we could use some new ornaments this year. Most of the old ones look like they’ve seen a few battles."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Mind if I join you? I could use a little holiday spirit myself."

"Please do." You handed her a blank ornament and a paintbrush, then smiled as Rogue wandered by, pausing mid-step when she saw what you were up to.

"Y’all makin’ ornaments?" Rogue asked, her eyes lighting up with a mischievous glint. "Scoot over—I’m in."

The three of you quickly settled into a rhythm, painting, and decorating in companionable silence. You were working on your third ornament when you heard the low rumble of Logan’s voice from across the room.

“What’re you doin’, sweetheart?” he asked, strolling over with Scott in tow. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the table strewn with paint, glitter, and a small mountain of cotton balls.

You looked up, unable to hide your grin, and held up your latest creation—a snowman with an oversized hat and a bright red scarf sporting a pair of familiar-looking claws. "Making some ornaments. You inspired this one."

Logan let out a low chuckle, leaning over to inspect your work. “Hmph. Looks like you’ve captured my good side,” he murmured, nodding approvingly at the tiny, fierce-looking snowman.

Scott rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took in the array of ornaments on the table. "You really think you’re gonna get Logan to make ornaments?” he asked, smirking. "Good luck with that."

But to Scott’s surprise, Logan pulled out a chair and plopped down beside you, picking up a blank wooden ornament and a small brush. "Watch and learn Summers," he muttered, already dipping the brush in a deep forest green.

You exchanged a knowing smile with Ororo, who winked at you. "Logan’s got a bit of a creative side, actually," you said, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Remember those little wooden stars and reindeer that mysteriously appeared on the tree last year?"

Scott’s mouth dropped open. "Wait—that was you? I thought those were store-bought or… I don’t know, crafted by some holiday elf."

Logan grunted, clearly a bit embarrassed but also pleased. "I can work with my hands, Summers," he replied, a hint of pride in his tone as he carefully painted the edge of his ornament. "Not just for beatin’ up bad guys."

Rogue snickered, holding up her ornament—a lopsided snowflake dripping with glitter. "Guess you learn somethin’ new every day," she teased, giving Logan an exaggerated wink. "Logan, the craftsman."

Logan rolled his eyes, but you caught the faintest smile tugging at his lips as he picked up a small knife and began carefully etching tiny snowflakes onto the surface of his wooden ornament. His focus was intense, and you could see his artistic side slipping through in the careful lines and details he added.

"Look at you, all precise and delicate," you teased, leaning closer to peek over his shoulder. "I think you might actually be enjoying this, Logan."

He glanced up, eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave you a playful glare. "Don’t push it," he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. He handed you the ornament he’d just finished—a beautifully carved snowflake with intricate details that practically sparkled even without glitter. "Here, for you."

Your heart melted as you took the ornament, fingers brushing against his briefly. "It’s beautiful. See? You’re secretly a softie."

Scott, watching this exchange with a mix of amusement and disbelief, leaned in closer. "I gotta say, this is the last thing I thought I’d see today—Wolverine, all domestic and festive."

Logan snorted, tossing a handful of glitter in Scott’s direction. "Keep talkin’, Summers, and I’ll make sure your next ornament’s a fist."

Everyone burst out laughing, the sound filling the room as you all settled back into your work, the holiday spirit wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You ended up with a quirky collection of ornaments: Ororo’s hand-painted pinecones, Rogue’s glittery snowflakes, and Logan’s intricately carved wood pieces that brought a touch of elegance to the tree.

As the evening wound down, Logan nudged you with his shoulder, his eyes warm as he looked at the pile of ornaments on the table. "You know," he said softly, "this turned out pretty good. I don’t mind doin’ this if it’s with you."

You smiled, leaning into him, feeling the warmth of his arm around you. "Well, don’t get too used to it," you teased. "Next year, you’re in charge."

Logan groaned, but the smile on his face didn’t fade, and as the two of you admired your handiwork, you couldn’t help but think that this—sitting together, making silly ornaments, and laughing with friends—was exactly what the holidays were meant to be.

[benispunk]

sometimes I don’t feel okay and then I remember I have a 2 meters poster of D&W with Hugh’s gigantic face on it that my friends and I greet everytime we enter my apartment, and I feel better

[benispunk]

it's true and you should say it.

[benispunk]

Deadpool and Wolverine: Love Will Find A Way

[benispunk]

Who's That Girl?

Chapter 7: You Don’t Choose Your Family

Y/n gets a surprise visit of her father at the apartment. It's not that she's not happy about it...but you don't choose your family.

logan howlett x reader

TW: language, mentions of divorce, D&W.

A/N: hey!! I am BACK!! I am absolutely not done with the story nor my exams but do not worry about anything. Chapter 7 is here (*applause*) and it's the continuation of the last one😚 we are also getting more of the Logan x reader I promised you 🤭 hope you like it!!!! enjoyyyyy <3

→ this fic is inspired by the TV Show New Girl, Wade and Logan aren't Deadpool and Wolverine (no powers/mutant gene etc) but I did take most of their character traits and storyline!!

Masterlist / Previous Part

Y/N wasn’t expecting the call.

Her evening was supposed to be low-key —grading papers, maybe catching a show with Logan and Wade later. But when Logan called, everything changed.

When she arrived, her father was comfortably seated on the couch, chatting animatedly with Logan. Logan looked both polite and slightly panicked— caught in the middle of a conversation he didn’t initiate. The sight almost made Y/N laugh. How Logan always ended up trapped with the chattiest person ever was a mystery.

“Dad!” Y/N greeted, pulling her father’s attention away from Logan.

“Hey, kiddo!” Your father, Daniel, stood up with a grin, acting as if this surprise visit was the most normal thing in the world. “I thought I’d drop by and see how you were doing.”

Y/N gave him a quick hug, still trying to process the unexpected visit. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“Just figured I’d come check on you in this new place of yours!” he said, waving it off as no big deal.

Logan stood, relieved now that Y/N was here to handle things. “I’ll let you two catch up,” he murmured, retreating toward the kitchen.

“Thanks, Logan,” Y/N said softly, before turning back to her father. “You’ve met Logan?”

Daniel nodded. “Yeah, nice guy. We were just talking about his work—special ed teacher, right?”

“Yeah, he is,” Y/N replied, adjusting to the idea of her dad sitting in her apartment, chatting with Logan of all people.

A moment later, the door opened, and Wade strolled in after his shift at the bar, his usual grin plastered across his face. He spotted Y/N and her dad sitting in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, what’d I miss?” Wade asked, dropping his bag by the door.

“Wade, this is my dad,” Y/N introduced, trying to keep the situation from becoming even more awkward.

Wade immediately brightened. “Ah, family!” he announced with his signature charm, shaking her dad’s hand. “I’m Wade. Roommate number one— the one who makes sure this place doesn’t burn down.”

Y/N tried not to laugh while Logan snorted from the kitchen. Daniel chuckled, easily won over by Wade’s humor. “Nice to meet you, Wade.”

Wade flashed Y/N a grin before slipping off toward the kitchen, joining Logan who was standing by the counter, quietly observing from a distance.

“So that’s Y/N’s dad?” Wade asked, leaning against the counter. “What’s the verdict?”

Logan shrugged slightly, glancing back at the living room. “Talks a whole lot. Very intense. Protective. Y/N’s surprised by the visit.”

Wade crossed his arms, clearly intrigued. “I know, she was at the bar when you called. Did he mention why he’s here?”

Logan shook his head. “Not really. Just asked me a thousands questions in less than ten minutes. I didn’t want to pry.”

“Good call,” Wade nodded, then peered over the counter toward the living room again. “He staying for dinner?”

“No idea.” Logan replied, though the question hung between them as they began preparing something simple.

From the kitchen, Wade called out, “Mr. Y/L/N, are you staying for dinner?”

Before Y/N could answer, her dad jumped in with a grin. “Absolutely.”

Y/N shot a look in Wade and Logan's direction, as if to say, I wasn’t planning this, but they simply exchanged a glance between themselves. They shared a silent understanding— something about the situation was off. Wade raised an eyebrow, while Logan gave a subtle nod, signaling that they were both on alert now.

With no turning back, they set about preparing a simple meal, something easy but filling— pasta and a salad. While they worked, the soft hum of Y/N and her father’s conversation continued in the background, though they couldn’t help but tune in occasionally, catching snippets of what they were saying.

———

“So,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “What brings you here, Dad?”

Daniel leaned back on the couch, his eyes scanning the room. “Do I need a reason to visit my daughter?”

Y/N gave a small, hesitant smile. “No, of course not. But you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” he replied with a shrug, though there was something in his tone that sounded off. “Thought I’d check out your new place. Make sure it’s... decent.”

Y/N nodded slowly, sensing the subtle judgment in his words. “It’s fine, Dad. I like it here.” She let her eyes drift to the kitchen where Logan and Wade were working, grateful for the slight distraction.

Her father followed her gaze, raising an eyebrow when he saw Logan. “So… Logan, right?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said quickly, confused as to where this was going. “What about him?

“He seems like a solid guy. You sure you two are just... roommates?” He asked and she bit the inside of her cheek, bracing herself for where this conversation might go. 

“Yes, Dad. We’re just roommates. That’s all.”

“Alright, alright, but what about Wade?” he asked,

“What's going on with you?" she blurted, raising an eyebrow as a grin threatened to break through.

Her father held up his hands in defense. “Just asking. Your mother and I used to talk about stuff like this, you know.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the mention of her mom. Her father rarely brought her up that way, especially with how tense things still were between her parents, even decades after the divorce.  It was usually more an inappropriate comment her mother didn’t deserve. 

“Oh, really?” she asked carefully, not sure where this was heading.

“Yeah,” Daniel continued, his tone softening a little. “Back before things went... south. We used to wonder what you’d end up doing, where you’d live, and who you’d end up with. She always had these big ideas. Thought you’d find someone nice. Maybe settle down with a guy like one of these guys.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond but paused, momentarily stunned by his gentler tone. Her father, for once, wasn’t launching into some bitter comment about her mom.

“She really said that?” Y/N asked softly, her curiosity outweighing her hesitance.

Daniel nodded with a smile. “She did. We were always so worried about you, you know? But it wasn’t just about who you’d end up with. We would imagine your entire future, what career you’ll end up choosing, how many dogs you would have— cause you always wanted one and we always told you ‘You’ll get one when you'll have your own house’…”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. It had been so long since her father had spoken about her childhood without bitterness that she almost didn’t know how to respond.

“I didn’t know you guys had my whole life planned,” Y/N chuckled, her voice softer now, her guard slowly lowering.

Daniel glanced over at her, smiling. “Yeah, well…we did that with your brother— although we didn’t expect any of his life choices, but that’s another story.”

For the first time in years, Y/N felt a connection with her father. A sense of mutual understanding that didn’t come laced with tension or resentment. It was brief, but it was something.

She smiled, a real one this time. “Thanks for telling me all that, Dad. That means a lot.”

Daniel reached over and squeezed her hand, his touch firm but comforting. “I missed you, honey.”

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight between them lighten. “I missed you too.”

Before the moment could grow too emotional, Logan called from the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready.”

Y/N looked toward the kitchen and then back at her father, who was already starting to stand.

“Well, let’s see what your roommates can do in the kitchen,” Daniel said with a faint smirk.

As they made their way to the table, Y/N couldn’t help but think that they’d actually had a good conversation. One that hadn’t ended with her dad tearing her mom down or leaving her feeling caught in the middle. Maybe things weren’t perfect between them, but for now, this small moment of peace was enough.

Daniel took the seat next to Y/N, while Logan and Wade sat on the opposite side. The conversation started politely enough, with Wade doing his usual job of keeping things light. He shared stories from his bartending adventures, as he always did, earning a few chuckles from James, who seemed to enjoy Wade’s humor.

The smell of the simple pasta dish Logan and Wade had thrown together filled the apartment. The atmosphere was initially warm, with everyone engaged in casual conversation.

“So, Wade,” Y/N’s dad said as he twirled his fork through the spaghetti. “Y/N told me you're a comedian?”

Wade grinned. “Yeah, I make people laugh for a living. Or at least try to. It’s a tough crowd out there.”

Daniel nodded. “Well, we could all use more of that these days.”

The conversation ebbed and flowed easily at first, moving between work, the city, and Y/N’s life in the apartment. Wade cracked jokes here and there, and Logan offered his quiet, thoughtful input when needed. It felt comfortable, almost like a normal family dinner.

But then, the conversation shifted.

“So, Y/N,” her dad began, his tone changing ever so slightly. “Have you heard from your mom lately? Still living the California dream, I assume.”

Y/N felt her body tense, and she shot a quick glance at Logan, who was watching her father closely. Wade picked up on the shift too, though he didn’t say anything.

“She’s doing fine,” Y/N replied cautiously. “We talked last week, actually. She’s been busy with work, but she’s good.”

Her dad gave a small, dismissive shrug. “Work. Right. And still with that guy, I suppose?”

Y/N's eyes narrowed slightly. “Yes. His name is Paul.”

Her father sighed, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it. She moves halfway across the country, barely checks in, and now with your brother all the way in Europe—”

“Dad,” Y/N interrupted. “She didn’t move across the country to get away from us. She moved for herself. And we’re fine. Sam and I are doing just fine.”

Daniel scoffed softly, setting his fork down. “I’m not saying you’re not fine, Y/N. I just don’t see how a mother can be so far away from her kids and not feel guilty. If I were her, I’d—”

“Well, you’re not her,” Y/N cut in, her voice sharper now. “You’ve been divorced for years. She didn’t abandon us, and she still cares. You don’t need to keep bringing it up like she left us to fend for ourselves.”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he glanced between Y/N and her father, sensing the rising tension. Wade shifted uncomfortably in his seat but stayed silent, eyes flicking to Logan for some kind of cue.

“I’m just saying,” Daniel continued, his voice lower now, “she could have stayed. Made more of an effort. But she left.”

“She didn’t leave us, Dad,” Y/N said, her patience wearing thin. “And honestly, Sam and I— we’re adults. We didn’t need her to stay and ‘raise’ us anymore. You’ve moved on with your life. Why can’t you let her do the same?”

Her father’s face tightened, and the air in the room grew heavy with unspoken frustration. For a moment, it felt like everyone at the table was holding their breath.

“I know you’re grown, Y/N,” Daniel said quietly, his eyes hard but sad. “But I don’t think a parent ever stops worrying about their kids. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Y/N sighed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I am okay, Dad. But you’ve got to stop blaming her for everything. This is your issue, not mine. Mom’s living her life, and I’m living mine.”

The room was thick with tension now, and no one knew quite what to say. Y/N’s father looked down at his plate, clearly feeling the weight of her words. Logan glanced at Wade, who shot him a silent look of understanding—they both knew when to stay out of family affairs.

After a long pause, Daniel finally spoke, his voice quieter than before and looking at all the people at the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag things down.”

Y/N softened and shook her head. “I know, Dad. But you’ve got to let this go.”

There was another silence before he nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

The mood at the table lightened just slightly as everyone tried to return to their meals, though the weight of the conversation still hung in the air.

For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, as if on cue, Wade jumped in, his voice cheerful and light. “You know what’s great about family dinners? Dessert! Who’s ready for some ice cream?”

The sudden change in tone broke the tension, and Y/N gave Wade a grateful look. Her dad, too, seemed to relax, chuckling at Wade’s enthusiasm. “Ice cream, huh? Now that’s something I like to hear.”

As Wade made his way to the kitchen, Y/N’s father glanced around the apartment again. His eyes landed on the fridge, and something seemed to catch his attention. “Hey, is that the picture I think it is?”

Y/N followed his gaze, realizing he was looking at the family photo she had put up weeks ago.

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, her voice softer now. “Wade and Logan insisted that I should put it up when I moved in.”

Daniel stood and walked over to the fridge, staring at the picture for a long moment. His expression shifted, a mixture of nostalgia and something else—regret, maybe. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice quiet when he finally spoke. “That was a good day. One of the last before things started to go wrong.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. Something about the way he was looking at the photo made her heart ache.

“It was,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniel turned to face her, his eyes softer now. “You’ve grown up so much, Y/N. I don’t say it enough, but I’m proud of you. No matter what happened between me and your mom, I’m proud of the person you’ve become. And I’m sorry for…all the mess that we caused.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words. She gave him a small, genuine smile. “Thanks, Dad.”

The moment hung in the air for a beat longer before Wade returned with bowls of ice cream, his voice breaking through the heaviness. “Alright, dessert is served! I got vanilla, chocolate, and this weird one Logan bought—pistachio whatever. Anyone feeling adventurous?”

Daniel chuckled, the warmth returning to his expression. “I’ll stick with chocolate, thanks.”

The atmosphere lightened once again, and they all sat back down at the table, enjoying their ice cream and talking a bit more.

As the plates were cleared and the remnants of dinner were packed away, Y/N walked her father to the door, feeling the tension of the evening settle uncomfortably between them. The earlier argument still simmered, but it had cooled to a manageable level.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” her dad said quietly, standing in the doorway. “It’s just hard, you know? Seeing you grown up, dealing with your own stuff, and not being able to do anything about it.”

Y/N offered a small, tired smile. “I know, Dad. And I appreciate that you care. But I’ve got this. You don’t need to keep fighting old battles.”

Daniel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I just still see you as my little girl. Hard to let that go sometimes.”

Y/N stepped forward and hugged him tightly. “I’ll always be your little girl, Dad. But you’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

Her father hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her in a way that felt both protective and regretful. “I’m sorry for bringing all that up. It wasn’t fair.”

Y/N pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes. “It’s okay. Just…next time, maybe we can talk about something else?”

He smiled. “Deal.”

With one last hug, Daniel stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll call you soon. Let me know if you ever need anything.”

“I will.” Y/N said, watching as her dad gave her one last nod before heading down the hallway.

When she closed the door, Y/N leaned against it, letting out a long breath. It hadn’t gone perfectly, but at least it was over. She turned around to find Logan and Wade standing there, watching her with quiet concern.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N began, her voice barely above a whisper. “I had no idea he was going to show up like that. I didn’t mean to put you both through all that drama.”

Wade, who was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, waved it off. “Are you kidding? This is mild compared to some of the shit I’ve seen and heard.”

Logan stepped closer, his expression soft. “You don’t need to apologize. Family stuff happens. We’re in this with you.”

Y/N blinked, a small, grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Thanks, but it was just… a lot.”

Logan nodded. “We get it. You don’t choose your family, but you can make your own, you know?”

Wade chimed in with a grin. “And lucky for you, you’ve got us, the best family you could ever create.”

Y/N laughed softly, the warmth of their words settling into her chest. “Thanks, guys.”

Logan gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and Wade, sensing the need for space, stretched dramatically. “Alright, I’m out. This emotional rollercoaster wiped me out. I’ll catch you both in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Wade,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a smile as he disappeared into his room.

Logan gave Y/N a lingering look. “You good?”

She nodded, still trying to shake off the heavy emotions of the night. “Yeah. I just need a minute.”

Logan gave her a small nod. “Take your time. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.”

Logan disappeared into his room as well, and Y/N sank into the couch. The living room was quiet now, and for a while, she let herself just breathe. The weight of the conversation with her dad still lingered, along with the tangled emotions from the night. She found herself staring at nothing, lost in her thoughts.

The hours slipped by unnoticed, the apartment dim and silent around her. She didn’t realize how late it had gotten until she heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Startled, Y/N turned her head to see Logan walking into the living room, his hair tousled from sleep.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concerned.

Y/N let out a small, humorless laugh. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I did,” Logan said, sitting down on the couch beside her. “But I saw the lights were still on and thought you had fallen asleep here.”

Y/N sighed, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Sorry. I guess I didn’t realize how much time passed. I’ve just been… thinking.”

Logan watched her closely. “About what?”

Y/N shrugged, trying to find the words. “I don’t know. Everything, I guess. My dad, my mom, the divorce… I don’t want to cry about it. It feels like I’d be a little girl again, crying over something that happened so long ago. Like I can’t move on.”

Logan leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as he looked at her. “It doesn’t matter how long ago it was. If it’s still hurting you, it’s okay to cry about it.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to swallow the lump forming in her throat. “But I shouldn’t. I’m not a kid anymore. Fuck, I’m a grown ass adult in my thirties. I can’t let this stuff affect me like it did back then.”

Logan's voice softened. “Y/N, you’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling. You don’t have to hold it in just because it’s been years. It’s still part of you.”

Y/N felt the tears prick at her eyes, but she fought to keep them at bay. “I don’t want to cry.”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said gently. “But if you do, I’m right here. You don’t have to do it alone.”

Y/N’s defenses crumbled at his words. She felt the dam break inside her, and before she could stop herself, the tears started to flow. At first, it was just a few quiet sobs, but soon she was genuinely crying, her shoulders shaking as the weight of everything she had been holding in finally spilled out.

Logan didn’t say a word. He simply shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a comforting embrace. Y/N buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking his shirt, but Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just held her, letting her cry, offering nothing but his presence.

After a few minutes, Y/N’s sobs began to quiet. She stayed in Logan’s arms, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. It was calming, grounding.

“I hate this,” she whispered after a long pause, her voice hoarse. “I hate that it still hurts.”

“I know,” Logan murmured softly. “But it’s okay. You’ve been carrying it for a long time.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, her breathing evening out. “I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Logan said.

Y/N sniffled, pulling back slightly to look at him. “Thank you. For being here.”

Logan gave her a small smile, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you. You know that, right?”

She nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her, and maybe something else. “Yeah. I do.”

After another long moment of silence, Logan shifted, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You should get some sleep.”

She nodded. “You’re right. I got school tomorrow.”

Logan stood up and offered her a hand, helping her up from the couch. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little lighter. “You need to rest too, you know.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I will. But I’m not the one who just went through a rollercoaster of a night.”

Y/N gave him a grateful look as they walked toward their rooms. “Night, Logan. And… thanks again.”

Logan stopped at his door and gave her a soft smile. “See you tomorrow.”

With that, they each retreated to their rooms, leaving the quiet of the apartment to settle around them once more. But this time, the silence felt a little more peaceful, a little more comforting.

XXX

[benispunk]

anyway