Say Yes to Heaven
[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]
Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.
WC: 3690
Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV
Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶
『••✎••』
He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.
It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.
He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.
Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.
"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"
That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.
And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.
The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.
The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.
He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.
You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.
It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.
But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.
Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.
His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.
It wasn't disgust.
He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.
Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.
Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.
Whoops.
So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.
He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.
It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.
It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.
He froze for a second.
You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.
Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.
But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.
Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.
The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.
He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.
His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.
3:02 am.
You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?
He looked back at the sink.
You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.
It would be worth it, right? Just for that?
3:04 am
He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.
He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.
3:13 am
He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.
He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.
You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.
His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.
You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.
He had a feeling it would.
You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.
You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"
Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.
You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?
Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.
He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.
His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.
You. That was all.
But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.
"Logan? What's wrong?"
You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.
His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.
He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.
Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.
His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.
His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.
He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.
The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.
His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.
It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.
He was afraid to let go.
He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.
You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.
How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?
Too long.
Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.
He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.
Your voice reached his ears.
"Logan, did something happen?"
He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.
Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.
He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.
Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.
"Logan?"
It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.
"I-"
He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.
But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.
That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.
"What happened?"
You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.
But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.
"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"
It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.
He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?
You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.
Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.
Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?
"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."
And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.
"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."
You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.
"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."
You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.
"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"
His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.
You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.
"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."
A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.
Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.
The one reserved for him and him only.
Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.
You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.
"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"
And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.
So, instead, he moved.
He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.
You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.
You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.
And he stared back.
He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.
He couldn't give you anything.
He had nothing.
There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.
His claws, too, if that counted for anything.
But, besides those, there was nothing.
He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.
Which is why he had no intention of trying.
Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.
One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.
"Logan."
You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.
Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.
The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.
It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.
He wanted you so badly.
And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.
He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.
And it wasn't the first time you did so.
There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.
He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.
Trying to find some meaning in his life.
But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.
"Are you sure?"
Because you were so much better than him.
Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.
It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.
It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.
He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.
"Hi, Logan!"
You would say.
"Good morning!"
You would wave.
"Have a nice day, Logan."
You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.
Much purer. Much more innocent.
You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.
It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.
He didn't want to ruin you.
"Yes."
No hesitation. No second thoughts.
Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.
But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.
With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.
In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.
And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.
You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.
The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.
He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.
Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.
"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."
Teasing. That was a new one for you.
He liked it.
"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."
"Logan."
For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.
But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.
The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.
He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.
He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.
You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.
Like heaven.
He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.
Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.
He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.
Too focused on the taste of your mouth.
Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.
He was too distracted to care.
He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.
He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.
And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.
If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.
He should've taken the chance.
It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.
But it didn't matter. He was here now.
And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:
It doesn't matter.
As long as I’m here.
As long as you’re in my arms.
It doesn't matter.
Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.
Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.
But, for now, he could live with that.
He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.
Because he sure as fuck didn’t.
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- Warning: None really. Gender-neutral reader.
- Characters: Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Silver, Sebek Zigvolt.
- Summary: You work a minimum wage job when a fae takes an interest after you jokingly asked him "will you adopt me?"
- Note: I planned for this to be a platonic yandere thing, but really it's only silly thoughts so I don't really plan to continue this unless y'all want. I don't even have a name for it.
Thinking about an AU where...
You were born a regular magicless person in Twisted Wonderland. Which was a travesty, but not too uncommon, as there were plenty of beings in this world that were incapable of magic. It was considered a privilege to be born with such capabilities. A privilege.
Which was likely why the world seemed catered specifically for magic users. Magic users were the cream of the crop, the best of the best. In the social hierarchy, magic users reined on top. That's just how things were. It wasn't discriminatory. It was merely the nature of society. If a company was looking to hire, of course they would inquire if potential employees could use magic. And of course, they were more likely to choose magic users to fill the positions. That explained why you could only find work as a minimum wage telemarketer, but it was better than nothing.
Random numbers generated and numerous attempts, scripted greetings you've said so much you could recite them in your sleep. As soon as you get an answer of "mmmyello?" a casual and exaggerated hello, you go off on the scripted greeting to advertise the product.
Shockingly, the person on the other end doesn't immediately hang up. They merely hum at your words, occasional shifting heard on the other end.
By the tone and voice, you've deduced that it's a rather relaxed guy. A conversation ensues, and although he doesn't sound all that interested in making a purchase, he doesn't get annoyed by your call. In fact, he continues to chat, seemingly amused by you and willing to share details such that he had a son and two others he fondly cared for.
The man, whom referred to himself as Lilia, mentioned he lived in Briar Valley. How odd, as it was common knowledge that the valley didn't have the best connection with technology due to their preference towards magic. He spoke of his well-mannered son and the other two boys he helped raise, one was a loud son of a dentist and the other was a quiet son of longtime family friends. By this time you were imagining an older gentleman with three young boys no older than ten.
He seemed to care so fondly for them that in the middle of the pleasant conversation, you couldn't help but jokingly ask, "Will you adopt me?"
The line was silent and you were mortified as you remembered this was supposed to be business talk, and your calls were likely being recorded. After what must've been shock, he began to laugh on the other end, and you immediately ended the call in your panic.
Why did you say that? You shouldn't have said that– Damn it, right when you were just gonna test the waters to see if he wanted the insurance package! Well, there went your big catch of the day. The rest of the evening was failed attempts, either deadlines or potential customers just hung up as soon as you spoke. Things were looking bleak.
Eventually, not even a week later, you received a letter. A letter, not an email, that was written much like how you expected the contents of a letter from the medieval ages to sound. Starting with: Salutations, Telemarketer–– and after several paragraphs, ending with ––That is why I am now interested in your deal! I will need your assistance, because I have not a single clue about how insurance works.
There was no number, and you couldn't recall the one you had reached him through, so there was no choice but to resort to the old fashioned way. Through letters. Although it would be a hassle and an interaction that would likely last for weeks just for one deal, a customer was a customer, and this would be your first one in so long. However, when you agreed to speak to him, you didn't actually expect him to show up at your doorstep. The voice you recognized, but he was not what you had in mind. He looked to be your age, short with magenta highlights in his black hair and wide red eyes accompanied by a fang-toothed smile. And pointed ears, the sign of fae. Of course he was a fae, that made total sense as to why he spoke as if he were older. He probably was older, much older than you previously thought.
Lilia wore a constant smile, listening but also not listening when you tried your best to explain what insurance was to a fae that had never once needed it.
"Do you get it now...?" You asked finally, after a lengthy explanation to which he barely asked any questions. All he did was nod up and down.
There was a brief pause. "Yesss..." That sounded uncertain, but he didn't appear to care too much as he noticed your bag with only the minimum in it like keys and a thin wallet. Along with the time. "Shouldn't you be on your lunch break now?"
"Yes, but... I don't eat lunch. I'm not hungry." A lie. You were hungry, but it wasn't easy to get lunch on a minimum wage salary alone. You'd eat something for dinner.
Lilia seemed to sense this, somehow detecting your lie. "Hm... Well, I like you. And I'm not about to let a child starve on my watch."
"A child...?" You stared at him incredulously. This fae was practically the same size as you, maybe even shorter. "I'm over––"
"Uh-huh, just nod and come along." He instructed, holding up a finger to gently shush you as he waved you along to follow beside him. "If your age only has two numbers in it, then in my eyes, you're like a toddler."
Lunch was surprisingly nice, as Lilia was quite eccentric but excellent at holding a conversation. He seemed wise and witty, making a great combination. However, you couldn't help but wonder what a fae from Briar Valley was doing here, as it was known that most faes preferred not to leave the valley.
"It's getting late, I do have to be going..." Lilia sighed, before turning to you and his smile softened. "Would you like to see my boys I told you about? It won't take long."
Did he live close by? That was the only plausible explanation you could think of, since Briar Valley was a whole continent away. It only made sense that he lived nearby if he were here now. Maybe he was one of the few fae that chose to leave the valley.
This was quickly disproven when he held your hand and told you to stay still, when it felt like you were hurled through space. A gust of wind slapping your face, your eyes momentarily seeing a kaleidoscope of colors, you felt sick when suddenly your surroundings were darker.
Dark brick walls like black, candles lighting the space, gray stone floors... definitely not the outside of the cafe you were just standing in front of moments ago. Teleporation magic...? He was a fae, and all faes had magic. You only had milliseconds to recover and swallow the rising bile in your throat, as Lilia pulled you into an open space like a courtyard where light filtered in. However, in this space there were training dummies and swords instead of flowers and butterflies.
"Come, come, meet my boys. The ones I've told you about!"
You immediately paled. When you heard boys, you were expecting young children no bigger than half your height. Instead you were met with three towering men with forbidding expressions.
Two of which were dressed in dark metallic armor and lowering sharpened weapons. The one on the left was a bit taller, with green hair and sharp eyes that pierced you like a blade. The one on the right was the shorter of the two, but that didn't make him any less intimidating with his gray hair and aurora eyes on an expression as cold as ice.
And the last, the last was recognizable anywhere. Black robes and majestic black horns like a crown with slitted green eyes that seemed to glow and peer into your very soul. That was the prince of the valley, a fae with unrivaled and frightening levels of magic.
"This is Sebek, Silver, and Malleus. They've so looked forward to meeting you ever since I told them about you after our pleasant telephone chat yesterday!"
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