#logan howlett sick reader

[romana-after-dark]

Our Gentle Sins: Part 5

Dark!Logan Howlett x fem!reader

My god this header is ass but I was an emo kid what can I say

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Chapter summary: Past. You get sick Present. You can't help fall into him.

Warnings: This fic features non con, pregnancy, and themes of religous trauma. I will not be saying everything that happens to warm you, by clicking read more you are prepared for extremely dark themes and that you at 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

2.6 words

a/n: Mean girls reference for mean girls day1!!

Before

This was terrible. Absolutely awful. You were feverish, dizzy, nauseous, diarrhea… all of it. You knew you should say you can’t work… you were barely functioning, you didn’t want to get your kids sick, but your anxiety simply didn’t allow it. When Charles greeted you this morning, you felt awful and considered asking if maybe it was possible for you to potentially go to your room early today…

And yet, when he greeted you and asked how you were, you lied and said a cheery, ‘wonderful!’.

For the last few weeks, you and Logan had lunch together almost every day. You started making extra for him and bringing him a fork, just in case he comes. This last week, however, he hasn’t shown. You didn’t blame him. What a man doesn’t want after kissing a woman is for her to freak out, lock herself in a changing room for 20 minutes and cry, then proceed to not speak as he drives her home. Not your best moment, if you were honest.

But it had taken you by surprise, and with a myriad of guilt swirling in your head, you’d worked yourself into a panic attack. It was happening so fast, so fucking fast and you weren’t ready. 

Logan was… you wanted him, you wanted him so fucking. The strong muscles busting out of his wife beater, the way his jeans hung low on his hips, the way that if you asked him to reach for something for you, you could see a trail of hair leading to something making you blush. Sinful thoughts swirled your head, always making your fingers trail over the cotton panties on under your night dress… but you couldn’t fathom him actually wanting you until that moment. When your lay in bed, pj’s looking like something out of little house on the prairie rather than the lingerie you were sure a man like Logan was used to. He was probably drowning in pussy, women who were far prettier and sexier than you.

Women who didn’t come with baggage

Women who didn’t do the things you had done.

It was no wonder he was avoiding you. He could slide himself into one of the many beautiful, mentally stable women here. He’d probably gone and done that as soon as you’d gotten home, realize you weren’t worth the- Oh fuck.

Rushing to the bathroom, you throw up, making it quick before cleaning up and getting it to gether for class. You could make it through the day. It would be fine.

It was not.

Most of your classes you just gave them reading time, or to work on other school work which they were grateful for. Occasionally, someone would come up and ask a question as you did your best to avoid breathing on them; if someone got sick because of you, you’d never forgive yourself, but your fear of rejection made it difficult to express your feelings. For all the talk about women being the emotional ones, somehow you were never allowed to express them. Even as a child, you were hit for crying, until you learned that voicing a need was disrespectful. You wouldn’t disrespect mr. xavier like that.

As your students filed out before lunch, you had grand plans of napping on your desk during lunch before you straight up passed out. Those plans proved silly when Logan walked into your room, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Logan, I’m sorry-” You were about to apolgize for the panic attack, but he started talking first.

“I know you probably hate me-” 

You both stop and blink. 

“No, I’m sorry. You took me out trying to do something nice-”

“No, no,” He interrupted. Logan stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I… shouldn't have done that, the kiss, I mean.”

Your face feels warm at the mention, but that honestly didn’t mean much. You’ve been warm all day. Still, you didn’t want Logan to think you were some crazy homeschooled jungle freak. All you wanted was to just be normal.

You try to stand. “That’s s-sweet of you…” That attempt didn’t get far, feeling dizzy as the room swirls around you. Vaguely, you can hear Logan call your name in a question, but it’s hard to hear over the muffled sound in your ears. For a moment, you’re falling, then rising again. Logan had you in his arms, and you cling to his plain white shirt as you come back to it. He’s already carrying you out of the room.

*

Logan is aware of the attention on them. Prying eyes of teachers and whispers from students, gossiping about the pretty little teacher in the arms of the local asshole. No one would get it. No one understood what he felt for you, not when he barely understood it himself. He came to apologize, to ask for things to go back to normal as if he could ever be normal about you, but the distance was killing him. He needed those lunch dates. He needed watching movies with you in the lounge tucked away on the other side of the couch like you were nervous. His gentle baby doll, needing him to guide her. He couldn’t live like he was now, not after tasting you.

Then he saw you there, looking flushed and unwell, and thank god he moved closer to you because you passed out into his arms. 

“Logan, what the hell did you-” Scott tried to talk to him, but Logan brushes passed with you in his arms.

“She’s sick. Can you figure out someone to take over the class?”

But Scott was insufferable, putting his hand on Logan’s arm to stop him. “I’m gonna need you to tell me what’s going on.”

“What the fuck does it look like?” Logan snapped, turning around quickly. He regretted it when your little hand tugged on his shirt, groaning. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m gonna get you to bed.” He looked over at Scott with a glare. “As soon as Mr. White knight lets me go.”

If Scott could take off his glasses, Logan was sure he’d see his eyes roll. “Just- fuck, why is she unconcious?”

“Because I drugged her.” Logan deadpans and waits for Scott to open his mouth. “No, dumbass she’s sick. She’s fucking burning up.”

To his horror, Scott reached for you, and on instinct Logan pulled away. When Scott glared at him, Logan aquiessed.

“Jesus… that’s not good…”

“Yeah, it’s not, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to take her to bed so she can rest.”

Logan felt Scotts eyes on his as he walked towards your room.

“Make good choices, Logan…”

*

Logan didn’t leave your side the rest of the day except to get you water. He called Remy to get your medicine, and the man showed up in a jiffy trying to fuss over you, but Logan practically kicked him out, saying you needed to rest. Truth was, Logan didn’t want anyone else touching you. You didn’t need anyone else, you only needed him. He was gonna take care of you. Logan kept a respectful distance as you sweated your fever out, sitting on the chair in the room and watching Tv after you deliriously requested bobs burgers. This was the last thing he expected you to watch.

He never touched you anywhere unnecessary, and when you asked for his help getting to the bathroom, he closed the door behind him to give you privacy. When he heard you washing your hands, Logan panicked a bit at the idea of you standing without his help in this state, and entered the bathroom to walk you back to your bed.

“I’ll be okay, Logan. I can walk by myself now. I'm not a doll.”

“Yeah, you are. My dolly.” He resisted the urge to kiss the top of your head as he tucked you into bed again.

“Lo?” You mumble, some song playing on the show in the background.

“Yeah, baby doll?” 

“Can you lay with me?”

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. It was a step in the wrong direction, crossing boundaries that were blurring every day… but he could never say no to you. Not ever.

Which is why when Charles came in to check on you, and he found you asleep on Logan’s stomach, he knew he was in trouble.

“Staying away from her, are me?”

“Listen, Chuck I know it looks bad but she’s-”

Charles voice remained cool, but Logan knew he was in trouble. “Sick, yes, I’ve heard. Cyclops has informed me she fell sick. I’m glad you are taking care of her, by surely Gambit could have handled it.”

“Remy don’t know what the fuck she needs.” Logan snapped, sounding overly defensive. Yeah, logically Remy probably could’ve handled it, but he doesn’t know you like he does. Logan was the only person who could give you what you need.

“I believe Gambit is her friend. He would take care of her.”

“Cut to the chase, wheel. Am I in trouble?”

There was a pause of silence, Charles glancing to the TV, then back to Logan. “I told you before, I won’t tell you what to do. But has she told you about her past.?”

Logan swallowed, a bit of anger bubbling up in his at the little knowledge you gave him. “Some. She was homeschool, weird church stuff. Teen marriage.”

He nodded. “Her husband beat her, quite severely. Frankly, I can’t believe she survived it all. Parents, courts, police, medical, at every corner of her life this child was failed by the system, and she is a child, Logan.”

“She’s twenty thr-”

“And you still have 150 years on her, give or take. And considering how she was raised and the lock and key her husband kept on her, mentally she’s younger. I took a chance on her because she needed it. She has a good heart and is skilled at what she does even if she doesn’t know how to divide or what a mitochondria is. Just as I’ve taken in everyone here who is lost, a stray, abandoned by the ones who claimed to love them and cast aside by the world. There are many beautiful women here, Logan. You are a handsome man. You do not need to go after the girl about to fall apart.

But he didn’t understand. Charles could never understand. He didn’t get that Logan didn’t want the other women here, he didn’t want anyone but you. You were meant for him, and he was meant for you.

After

It was getting harder and harder to pretend that you weren’t pregnant. Harder to act like you were fine and getting through the day.

Harder to avoid Logan without making it obvious you were avoiding him, when all the students and teachers were well aware you and him used to eat lunch together and spend most of your free time with him or Remy.

Harder to ignore when you were vomiting in the morning. It was bad, it was so bad and you didn’t want to think about the future, but this was forcing you to content with the fact life was inside you. You didn’t want this baby… not like this, anyway. You had dreamed of this life, even dreamed of it with Logan. A baby in your, happy little job at the school, Logan by your side… You didn’t understand why he did what he did to you, what you did wrong. Why he had to disappoint you like everyone had. 

When the door to your bathroom opened, you didn’t have to look up. Soon, large hands were wrapped around your hair as you threw up, and you didn’t have it in you to tell him to go away. He wouldn’t listen anyway, he never did.

Logan could smell when you were throwing up, always lurking nearby and with his heightened smell, he was always on you. So, this had become the routine. He was allowed near you for this. Logan would hold your hair, rub your back and whisper gentle words while you got it out and for a moment you’d pretend, pretend he hadn’t violated you, that you weren’t scared of him. Pretend like you were a cute little married couple awaiting a little bundle of joy and attending church and he was the love you thought he could be, protecting you and caring for you. When it was over, Logan helps you brush your teeth and wash your mouth.

As you stare in the mirror, you don’t recognize yourself. You looked tired. Thinner. A mess as Logan stood behind you brushing your teeth. That’s when the bubble began to crack and you remembered that you let your rapist touch you again. That you were just as weak and pathetic as you had alway been. That you were trapped, always trapped, doomed by your body and your womb and your heart that was always bleeding for some sad soul and now you were beginning to rely on Logan again.

He wiped your mouth with his sleeve, rugged flannel gentle on your lips. Sweet as he ever was.

“I have to go, for a bit.” When you looked at him through the mirror, he clarified. “Maybe a month. Maybe less…”

You blink. “No.”

He blinks right back. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to do what you did and then just leave me alone!”

“I’m not.” Logan turned you towards him, and you hated that you just wanted him to hug you. “I’m coming back. It’ll give you some space, and when I get back we can talk, and… we can figure things out… and we can get you to a doctor, dolly.”

The idea of going to a doctor again, especially another OB/GYN, was scary… the idea that soon, you wouldn’t be able to hide what was happening was even scarier. But the idea of doing this alone, without Logan?

“No.” Your eyes fill with tears, already partially wet from the puke. “I need you now! You don’t get to just break me and walk away!”

There's silence for a beat, but then he sighs. You can see a softening of his features, maybe a little smile. He was happy you were depending on him. You knew you were falling down the wrong path, but it was so hard not to. You parents said this was who you were meant to be, that it was biological, Gods plan for men and women… were they right all along? “There’s a girl, western Washington area, pretty rural. Mutant. Her family is…. They think she’s possessed. Performing exorcisms on her. She’s not gonna live… Kurt and I are gonna help her, hopefully bring her back. She needs help, dolly. No one helped you, but we’re gonna help her.”

Logan knew that would get you. A girl in a strict religious family being abused? Yeah, it was a chapter out of your book. Most of the chapters, honestly.

You sat back against the counter, pajama dress still on. You close your eyes. “What if I end the pregnancy? You just gonna do it again?”

Slowly, he raises a hand to your face, and despite his efforts to be careful you still flinch. “What happened will never, ever happen again, Dolly. I could never really hurt you, don’t you understand that? You won’t get an abortion. I know it. But we’re gonna figure this out. You, me, our child.” A hand on your stomach. “A family.”

Thank you all so much for your love!!!! Dont forget to check out the spotify, and telling me more songs!!!!

A few questions about remy last chapter

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Comments mean the world! It's what keeps me writing. I dont need reblogs (although they are helpful to spread my work!) but interactive comments are s special. theorizing or noticing little things makes me melt.

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[datauthorress]

imagine feral! logan taking care of you while you're sick.

logan isn't sure what to do when you wake up with a fever, the sniffles and the body aches. logan is worried, extremely worried. worried about his partner and even though he can't get sick, he hates seeing his mate sick. the only thing logan knows what to do is get jean, who is the mansion's doctor. jean comes up and lets logan know you've got the flu and gives him a list of things that he could do for you.

the next few days, logan is on top of everything. laura remains on the bed with you to keep an eye on you while logan gets things for you. water, sprite for your upset stomach, a bucket and wet washcloths to help keep your fever down. he's worried when you don't eat anything for about 36 hours, nudging at you and a worried rumble reverberating through his chest.

when you get the body aches, logan and laura are immediately into action. logan snuggles up to your back, his warmth being one of the things to help you not shiver as much. laura moves around to your front to keep that warmth between you and you can only sniffle as the warmth feels utterly nice.

logan's deep rumble echoes through his chest, the sensation calming you into a deep sleep.

you manage to eat some light soup the next day, made by jean but brought by logan. logan watches you eat, making sure you don't need anything or that you don't get an upset stomach by eating.

once you're done eating, logan rests his chin on your knee and you smile, rubbing his cheek with your thumb before pressing a kiss to his nose. "thank you for taking care of me, logan. i really appreciate you and laura both."

laura purrs and logan smiles, nuzzling his face into your hand. "mate," he rumbled.

[hadersversion]

old man logan…save me.

old man logan is the type of man that lays on your lap after a long day, your fingers in his grey hair as you read a book. sometimes he falls asleep, other times he asks you to read the book out loud to him. he finds that just being around you is the only comfort he needs. you calm him, make him want to fight to live. i feel like he’s just clingy to you, living out that married lifestyle he always wanted (even if you two aren’t married). he loves to come home and see you cooking in the kitchen or making the bed. it’s the little things for him. HE’S A DOMESTIC MAN WHO JUST WANTS TO SETTLE DOWN!!! i can just picture him all tired and sluggish after a long day and coming into your house to find you cooking one of his favorite meals. you’re listening to music from the speaker and sway your hips, singing along to it. his heart skips a beat, as it does every time he sees you. you two have been together for years but every time he sees you it’s like the first time all over again. he comes up behind you and engulfs you in his big arms, kissing your cheek. he takes a sigh of relief when he finally has you all to himself. he could stay like this for eternity, just holding you close to him. and his domestic life becomes more prominent when laura comes around. at first, he’s nervous about the big change. about his daughter and you. but you two hit it off like she was your own. the first time you met laura, she was timid. but you gave her some space, let her get used to you. you let her take her time. then you asked her if she wanted to help bake some cookies and she reluctantly agreed. logan admired how gentle and sweet you were with her, the way you acted so maternal to a girl you just met. but she’s apart of logan, and you love every bit of him. the three of you make a loving family together.

🎀🦢💓kaila🎀🦢💓

[marvelwitchergilmore]

In Sickness and Health

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Logan takes care of you when you're sick.

Disclaimer: Mentions of throwing up, getting the flu, flashbacks to exploding boats. Mostly fluff for how Logan takes care of the reader. Couple of swear words. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

You never got sick. 

It didn’t matter who you were around, or where you had been or what you had been doing. You never got sick. 

You could help ten puking kids, three more flu ridden ones, walk through a room full of adults who had everything from the flu to fainting from it, and still walk away and not have gotten sick. 

Standing by the kitchen door, Logan watched you. 

In all fairness, he’d been watching you ever since he saw you sneeze whilst he was sitting outside teaching a kid outside of lesson times. Sitting in a classroom didn’t help the kid, but sitting outside on a bench, watching the world go by…well, the kids could recite the whole book by the end. 

For three days, you’d been sniffling, sneezing and coughing. No more than anyone else, but coming from you, it was concerning for Logan. 

He couldn’t get sick, but that was due to his own mutation. Not by some miracle act from God. 

So, standing by the kitchen door, Logan watched you. 

Your nose was a little red from the amount of times you’d used a tissue against it in the last few days, your skin was flushed, your eyes heavy and your steps slow. 

For the third time in four minutes, you zipped your jumper back up and shivered. 

“You’re sick.”

Logan’s voice made you jump. He wasn’t loud but it still made your ears ring. 

“I am not sick.”

“Yes, you are.” Logan pushed himself from the door frame and he walked closer towards you. 

“I don’t get sick. I’m not sick. Just…tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“No, neither did I. I could hear you coughing and sneezing from down the hall.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Sure.” Logan raised his brows for a second. 

“It wasn’t.”

Then you sneezed. 

“Okay,” Logan practically sang, taking you by your shoulders. “Let's get you to bed.”

“I don’t need to go to bed. I’m making food-”

“We don’t need you making everyone else sick. One kid, fine. An entire school? Even Mother Teresa might struggle with that one.”

Logan stood behind you and guided you out of the door and down the hallways. 

“Why is it so hot in here?” Quickly zipping your jacket back down, you tried your hardest to get it off you as fast as you could. Logan helped you for a moment before pressing his hand to the back of your neck. 

“You’re sick.”

“I am not sick.”

“You’re freezing cold,” Logan pointed out. 

“Then why do I feel like I’m on fire?”

“Because,” Logan said. “You’re sick.”

Helping you down the hall and into your bedroom, Logan pulled the covers back from your bed and made sure you got into it. The minute your head hit the pillow, the pouding just became a dull ache. 

“If I’m so sick, why are you helping me? You’ll get sick.”

Logan shook his head as he tucked you in whilst simultaneously untucking your duvet from the frame of the bed. 

“I can’t get sick. My mutation makes sure I can’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’.”

“But what about the kitchen?” 

You went to get out of bed again but Logan practically ran around the bed to stop you. It didn’t take a firm hand to push you back down. 

He sat beside you, his arms caging you in where you lay. 

“Don’t worry about that. I can take care of it.”

“You can cook?”

Logan nodded. 

“You? You, Logan Howlett, can cook?”

Logan furrowed his brows, a little offended. “Don’t sound too shocked.”

“Just…never seen you cook an actual meal.”

Logan shrugged, “When you bunk with seven other soldiers who don’t know the difference between toast and charcoal, you learn pretty quickly.”

“Huh.” You said, slightly shocked by his admission. Though, come to think of it, Logan was full of surprises these days. 

Your friendship with him hadn’t started out on the best of terms given that you had punched him in the face when you first met him, thinking he was on the other team of people who were hunting you. 

You got a good swing in, too. Made his nose bleed. Which was never an easy feat when it came to someone like Logan. 

Of course, for a while, given that you didn’t want to join either team, or any team for that matter, you and Logan were a bit stand-offish to each other. On the rare occasion you did see each other (usually whenever X-Men came to find you), your communication with him was through glares and grunts. Which he gave back in return. 

Then the first couple of times he, technically, saved your life, you were more adamant on fighting him. Like when he pulled you out of the water when you fell in, even though it had been on purpose and you yelled at him for leaving the boat you’d both been on. 

“Oh, well excuse me for thinking I was saving your life!” He had yelled at you as you walked up the bank and found a log to throw your jacket over whilst you wrung out your hair and the bottom of your t-shirt. 

“I jumped, Logan. I didn’t fall. I knew what I was doing. You should be on that boat right now!”

“Maybe, but now I guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

Funnily enough, it was after that day you decided you hated him a little less. But it wasn’t from the water, it was when he actually listened to you and left the boat when you told him to just before it exploded. 

He was the one to find you back at the bank when you dragged yourself up it and collapsed, catching your breath. 

“You blew up a boat.”

You nodded. “I blew up a boat. And saved your life. I guess now we’re even.”

“Even, huh?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He offered you his hand a minute later and pulled you up. 

It still took a while for you to both become friends, but at least from that day forward, you were both civil and talked. 

A few hours passed after Logan had tucked you in, or at least, you guessed they had, considering the sky was less sun-lit and more moon-lit. 

“Hey,” Logan shook you awake gently and you turned over, your entire body hurting as you did so. 

Slowly you sat up and felt Logan’s hands brush the hair from your face until he could see you clearly. 

“Here, take these. Drink this.”

You swallowed down two tablets but made a small groan when Logan didn’t let go of the cup. 

“You’ve already broken two, this is just safer.”

Then you remembered. 

Logan kept his hand on the bottom of the cup as you held it and drank from it before pulling it away and placing it on your side table.

And looked down. 

“Why am I wearing your shirt?”

“Because I found it in your draw. And it’s easier to get you out of it, if you spill something on it again.”

You furrowed your brows. “You got me changed?”

“It was either that or listen to you keep falling around in here.” 

You grunted a small response as Logan went to lift something else from beside your bed. “Here, you need to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” You tried to push it away. 

“You haven’t eaten in two days. You need to eat something.”

You groaned again. “What is it?”

“Soup.” Logan gave you a small spoonful, the heat from the bottom of the bowl warming his hand. “Careful, it’s hot.”

He managed to get at least half of the bowl down before you rejected it saying you were full. 

“Why are you helping me?”

“Because someone else might actually think you mean what you say while you're sick.”

You were still for a moment, then nodded. Maybe he was right. 

“What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

You just hummed and slowly lay back down in bed. 

“You just get some rest.” Logan told you, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of your hand before getting up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

You didn’t know if it was a minute, but he was back. 

With his hand against your forehead, and through the blurry vision of your eyes in the dark, you could tell he looked worried. 

“Honey, you’re burning up.” He told you, slowly peeling back each layer of bedding you’d put on top of yourself. 

You hissed as he pulled the final layer back. “Logan, it’s freezing.”

“Come here, sit up for me.”

And you did. 

Crouching in front of your legs, Logan kept his eyes on you until he checked the thermometer was on. 

“Open up.”

You did so and he stuck the thermometer under your tongue. 

“I’m surprised you know how to do this.”

“Stop talking.”

You waited for a few seconds, but then you had to speak. 

“Logan, I don’t feel so good.”

“I know-”

Within a split second, you pulled the thermometer from your mouth, left it on the bed and a momentarily confused Logan behind as you ran towards your bathroom and flipped up the toilet lid. 

“Okay, okay.” Logan was right behind you, pulling your hair back and rubbing your back as you practically threw your guts up into the toilet bowl. 

Eventually, it stopped but you remained where you were. The puking might have stopped for a moment but the gurgling inside your stomach hadn’t. 

“I think I’m sick.”

Logan gave a fake scoff. “See, now that’s just untrue.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” you told him, feeling a small smile on your face before it was wiped away by the wave of a sick feeling again. 

For a moment, the gurgling in your stomach subsided and you dropped to the side of the toilet against the wall. 

Logan quickly ran a fresh wash cloth under the sink before he wiped your face down, removing some of the sick stains and sweat. Once he ran it clean, he gave it to you to place at the back of your neck. 

Then he stood up again and started searching through the draws around the sink til he found what he was looking for. 

“Lean forward a little.”

You followed his instructions before you felt his hands scoop up your hair and secure it with a scrunchie he had found. 

“Thank you.”

Reaching up to the counter, he pulled down the thermometer he was yet to check and gave a small whistle.

“Well, what’s the verdict, doc? Girl or boy?”

“39.6.”

“That’s a lot of kids..”

“I’ve called Jean. She’s still tied up at that conference in Melbourn but she should be back soon.”

“Hopefully she knows how I can give birth to that many.”

“Think you can stand?”

“After giving birth? Hell no.”

Logan sighed, but you didn’t miss the chuckle that escaped him as he helped you up off the floor. 

“You okay?” Logan asked you if you gripped onto him as you swayed on the spot. 

“Dizzysall.” You drawled a little as you spoke, closing your eyes. 

“Let's get you back into bed.”

Logan helped you from your bathroom, back into your bedroom and into bed. You pulled the covers back over you, only to have Logan pull them off again. You whined a little. 

“We still need to get your temp down, bub.”

You gave in, your strength leaving you as tiredness kicked right back in. Again, Logan brushed the stray hairs from your face as you tried your best to fight off sleep. 

“You’re gonna get sick.”

“Can’t, remember?” Logan’s voice was soft. “Mutation stops it.”

You nodded, remembering, letting out a small; “Lucky bastard.”

Logan chuckled but just sat beside you as your hand held onto his while your eyes closed, giving him a little more freedom to let his eyes wander around your room. 

You had a couple pictures round your room, but not many. However, you did have a hefty parcel you were yet to open, on your desk that he could guarantee contained some. Also on your desk you had a small record player, as well as the records lined up beside it. You had everything ranging from Christmas Classics to Movie Soundtracks to 80s rock. Most had been your own that you brought with you when you moved into the school, taking up a teaching position. But some others had been gifts from birthdays, christmases and the last couple had been from one’s Logan had found himself. He thought you might like to add them to your collection so picked them up and brought them back from flea markets and other places he found whenever he went out. 

From what he could see, the last record you had played was one he had found for you. 

When you were sound asleep, Logan stood and walked across your room and opened up your window which let in a cool breeze. 

He was quiet as he moved about your room, shutting the door a little so he could flush the toilet without disturbing you before he tidied up the bathroom a little. 

Then he started cleaning around your room, wiping down any surface you had touched and any that you could have. 

By the time he finished, he woke you up again to make sure you got some more fluids down you all the while feeling your forehead with the back of his hand. 

“You feel cooler.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted to hear.” 

Taking the thermometer from your bedside table, he uncapped it and placed it under your tongue. You stayed quiet this time, waiting for the beep. 

Your temperature had gone down a little, but not by much. 

“Logan? Will you stay with me?”

Logan nodded. “Sure, bub. Lay down.”

You did so and he walked around the other side of your bed, pulling the covers to the floor save for the thinnest and lightest one. 

Almost instantly you curled into him and closed your eyes, his arms holding you close. 

“Thank you for making sure I don’t die.”

Logan smiled. “If you did, who would give me crap from cooking?”

You gave a slight smile before sleep overtook you. You woke a couple of hours later to chuck up the last few remaining ounces of your internal organs, and Logan stayed with you the whole time. 

And when you fell asleep on your window seat, having been desperate for fresh air that didn’t smell like the inside of a toilet bowl, Logan carried you back into bed. 

By the time morning rolled around, you had less of a rough storm inside your stomach but you were no better than the night before. 

So, Logan made you take a shower. 

“I’m gonna keep this door open,” Logan called over his shoulder, between the gap he had left in the door. “Shout me if you need me.”

“Okay.”

Immediately, Logan started stripping your bed covers and sheets, changing them for fresh ones. He was almost done when you came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Saying nothing, you moved over to sit by the window seat and let the fresh air brush around you. 

Logan found you an extra towel and wrapped it over your shoulders so you wouldn’t get too cold, or even sicker, before going in search of some clothes. 

You managed to pull your arms through the t-shirt and lift it over your head. Logan helped pull it down over the rest of your towel covered body and left you to deal with your pants whilst he shut the window so the gap for air wasn’t so big. 

You pulled the towel undone from underneath you and Logan took it from you, throwing it into the laundry basket by your door. 

You managed to twist your hair into a bun as you walked over to your bed, laying on top of the sheets. 

The rest of the day was spent sleeping, waking up when Logan came back to make sure you were getting enough water and medicine down you as well as keeping it down. And by the afternoon, he had found a couple of old movies. 

And when you asked him to stay with you, he did. 

You fell asleep fifteen minutes in, but Logan still stayed with you. And even if he wanted to leave, he couldn’t. Because your hands had been held above his, over your middle since he lay beside you. 

You turned over, half way through the movie, gripping onto his shirt and he just rested his chin on the top of your head. 

You woke up six hours later and felt better. 

Over the next two days, your fever finally went down and you stopped gagging at every smell that was stronger than laundry softener. Until finally, you were sat up in bed with Logan, able to feed yourself without your arms screaming at you to just not move an inch. 

“I mean it, Logan. Thank you. For everything.” You told him, turning to look at him. 

He had made you some more soup and gave you some added crackers. Your appetite wasn’t back but you were thankful that you were actually hungry for once and not feeling sea sick. 

“Don’t mention it. How’s the soup?”

“Tastier now that it doesn’t smell like everything else did.”

Logan nodded. “Still surprised that I can cook?”

“Oh, yeah. I still need to see you cook to believe it though.”

Logan smiled. You were getting better. 

The conversation flowed for a while longer until you asked Logan one specific question. 

“Do you remember when we became friends? I’m not talking about after the boat. I mean like, actual friends.”

“We’re friends?”

You scoffed, hiding your smile whilst he showed his, and shoved him slightly. 

“I’m kidding. But you remember the river?”

You nodded. “Of course. You don’t exactly forget jumping from an exploding vessel.”

Logan waited a moment and then nodded. “I remember when we became friends. You took care of Rouge. She wouldn’t let anyone in to see her, but she let you.” 

Logan leaned his head back and looked up to the ceiling. “God, I remember that. I think you even called me an ass.”

“Correction; A jackass.”

“Forgive me.”

“Forgiven.” You nodded. “You were so worried about her, and I couldn’t blame you. But you were being a jackass.”

“I just remember racing home and by the time I got upstairs, everyone was in bed, except for you. You stayed with her all night.”

“So you made me a cup of coffee.” You finished for him. 

Logan nodded. “I remember all of that. Why’d you ask?”

“Because I’m glad it happened.” You told him. “Not Rouge getting sick, but…the moment. I’m glad we became friends with Logan, because it made me trust you outside of being an X-Man. And, I’m sorry about all the disgusting things you’ve witnessed in the past couple of days but…I’m glad you were the one to help me. I trust you, Logan. With my life. Both figuratively and literally.”

Logan shifted his hand so it held onto yours. “I’m glad, too.”

A few moments passed and you both broke eye contact when a pair of familiar heels were heard coming down the hallway. 

“Here you both are.”

Jean was finally back. “You’re looking better than Logan described.”

You looked at Logan for a moment before looking back at Jean. “Yeah, it’s been…rough.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“Better now,” you smiled a little. “Logan had a lot to do with it.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m just gonna go and check on everyone else. Make sure they’re not coming down with something, too. Are you two okay here?”

You nodded, “We’re fine.”

Jean didn’t fail to spot where Logan was holding your hand, and she gave a brief smile before heading towards the door. 

A week later you were right as rain and was finally getting to see something you had been begging to witness all week. 

Logan cook. 

You sat by the kitchen island, watching him prepare the ingredients, cook said ingredients, all the while creating a delicious meal that wasn’t just soup and crackers, all without burning the house down. 

“So you really know how to cook?” You asked, bouncing a wooden spoon between your fingertips. 

“I really know how to cook.” Logan said with a small smile as he sliced through the pastry. 

“Why don’t you do it more often?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Pass me that?”

You handed over the wooden spoon and Logan started stirring something. “Come and try this.”

And you did. 

That night, you both sat out on the balcony, watching the stars go by. 

And, as you sat there, watching the stars go by, the music from the record player steaming out from the kitchen, you looked over at Logan and realised something. 

You trusted him. 

You more than trusted him. 

You, in fact, loved him. 

It would be a few months more before something would happen between you both, but you would come to find out that Logan had realised that exact same thing. But rather than realise it out on the balcony, he had realised it for himself back inside the kitchen when you had stood beside him. 

He couldn’t make sense of it at the time. Why, for such a small moment, had he realised then. But either way, he was thankful for it. Both of your lives were lived in higher stakes. 

To have a small moment feels so connected with such a big one…

Looking at you, and having you look back in the same manner…

That meant the world to him. 

In sickness and in health, 

You meant the World to him. 

[a-leg-without-fear]

Poison🩸🌧️

got the feels and wanted to write about it

Ship: Old!Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 786

Warnings: disease, injury, blood, aging, kind of age gap? (they're roughly the same age but reader doesn't show it), grief

Your nose scrunched as it was hit by the all-too familiar scent that followed Logan like a shadow. Acrid, sharp, deadly. Seeped into his blood from his metallic bones, poisoning him. Killing him. Leeching his life and healing mutation to where he was a husk of the X-Man he once was.

It was 29 years to the day since you’d met him. When he'd woken up, terrified, on that chrome stretcher and nearly choked you to death. The blood flowing through his thick arms pumping by your ears and only proving what you’d hypothesized: his blood wasn’t normal.

Logan’s blood ran thicker than every other person’s. Tasted more metallic, more iron in his blood than the rest of the mutants that filled Charles Xavier’s mansion. You had always found Logan’s blood to be tricky to manipulate. Whether it be to stimulate his healing or to form the thick ichor to your desire, it just didn’t want to cooperate.

That same difficulty faced you now as you kneeled in front of your and Logan’s shared bed. The room rattled as another freight train barreled by outside. Dusty picture frames swinging on rusted walls, bottles of medication bouncing on wire shelves, creaking bed groaning under Logan’s weight.

You held a clean rag to a shotgun blast in Logan’s gut. His blood had soaked through two others just like it, now lying in the dented bucket at your feet. A vein in your neck strained as you focused on healing the wound.

“It’s no use, doll. I’ll be fine,” Logan grunted. He tried to wave you off with a withered hand. You smacked it away from your face. A low hum rumbled his chest.

“Shut up, old man,” you said. That earned a rough chuckle from his chapped lips. You glanced up at him from where you knelt between his knees.

If pure reverence was an expression, what painted Logan’s face in broad strokes fit the bill. Crows feet bunched around his hazel eyes, smile lines deepend by his close-lipped smirk, graying eyebrows turned up at the edges. He ran a calloused hand along your unaged cheek.

“Beautiful as the day I met you,” he whispered softly. Grief struck you in the chest like a wooden stake. 

It wasn’t fair. Logan’s adamantium skeleton sucked the life from him, making him age and decay, while you remained the same. Wrinkle-less, youthful, bright-eyed. You would pump your youth into him if you could. 

But you couldn’t.

All you could do was prevent the inevitable. Prevent what once seemed impossible, yet hung over you like a thick fog.

Logan ran his thumb under your eye, collecting a tear that spilled from your clouded eyes. You blinked up at him as a thick lump formed in your throat. Words unspoken passed between the two of you. Adoration, understanding, sorrow. Leaking from the hot tears spilling from your eyes and into Logan’s leathery skin. 

“I love you,” you breathed into his palm. You gave it one last attempt, healing the wound in his stomach. You could just barely feel the edges closing and the skin knitting together. The ligaments running through your neck and shoulder tensed under the effort.

“Love you too, doll,” he replied, using the hand not on your cheek to smooth down your strained muscles. Thinning fingers ran down your shoulder, passing over his borrowed flannel and your bare skin, then wrapped around the hand held to his gut. He laced the digits with yours, “Give it up. I’ll heal the old-fashioned way.”

A sigh rattled your lungs, anguish pooling in your chest like an oil spill. You let Logan drag your hand away from his stomach and to his face. Your crimson-stained fingers traced along the tough skin of his jaw.

“Always taking care of me,” he mumbled. Kind eyes ran across your pained expression. 

He tucked his fingers under your chin and brought your mouth to his. Plump, full lips met chapped skin. You poured your devotion into the kiss, licking into Logan’s mouth and clutching at his white tank top. His fingers dug in your silken hair.

It wasn’t perfect. It never was, when it came to Logan. Nearly thirty years of being together had taught you that fact. He was messy, rude, rough around the edges. Not to mention metal-clawed and built like a fridge.

And yet, despite it all, he was yours. You woke up next to him every morning, went to bed with him every night, much like you’d done ever since you met. Your lives were so intertwined it was hard to tell where you stopped and he began.

You knew, decades after Logan was gone, you’d treasure your intimate connection like nothing else.

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[pandapetals]

I'll Take Care Of You

logan howlett x fem!reader - reader has a cold, soft logan, comfort, cute, fluff, teasing, cuddling, no y/n used, no reader description

You have a cold so Logan takes care of you.

read on Ao3

a/n: I'm sick right now so I literally wrote this to comfort myself.

The sound of your alarm pierced the quiet room, and you groaned, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle deep into your bones. When you opened your eyes, the sunlight streaming in through the blinds felt too bright, making your head pound. Every muscle in your body ached, and your throat felt raw like you’d swallowed gravel.

You sniffled, wincing at the burning sensation in your nose, and rolled over, hoping to drift back into the comfort of sleep. Before you could even close your eyes again, a rough, familiar voice rumbled from the doorway.

"Feelin’ alright, darlin’?"

You cracked an eye open, seeing Logan standing in the doorway, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he took in the sight of you bundled under the blankets. His usual cocky smirk was missing, replaced by a look of concern.

"Fine," you croaked, though your voice barely sounded like yours. "Just a little tired."

Logan arched an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He stepped closer, the floor creaking under his heavy boots, his eyes sharp as they flicked over your pale, tired face. "Yeah? You look like hell."

"Gee, thanks," you muttered, snuggling deeper into the covers in an attempt to escape the cold that seemed to cling to your skin. "Just what a girl wants to hear."

Logan sighed, shaking his head as he walked over to the bed. Without a word, he reached out and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, his skin cool compared to the feverish heat radiating from yours.

"Jesus," he muttered, pulling his hand back. "You’re burning up."

"I’m fine," you lied, sniffling and trying to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit you so hard that you collapsed back onto the pillows with a groan.

Logan gave you a look—one that said he wasn’t about to let you pretend you weren’t sick. He stood there for a moment, silent and assessing, then with a resigned sigh, he walked over to the closet and pulled out one of his old flannel shirts.

"You’re not fine," he grumbled, tossing the shirt onto the bed. "You're staying in bed, and I’m not hearin’ any arguments."

You blinked up at him, surprised. "You’re bossy when you’re worried."

Logan shot you a half-hearted glare, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta take care of you. ‘Cause you clearly won’t."

You were about to argue, to insist that you didn’t need his help, but another coughing fit interrupted you, leaving you gasping for air and clutching the blankets tighter around you. Logan watched for a moment, then shook his head and turned toward the door.

"Stay put," he ordered, his voice gruff but filled with a quiet kind of care. "I’m gonna make you somethin’ hot to drink."

You didn’t have the energy to argue, so you simply nodded and sank deeper into the covers, your body aching with every movement. A few minutes later, you heard the sound of clinking mugs and the soft hum of the stove heating water. Logan was surprisingly quiet in the kitchen, but you could still hear the occasional muttered curse as he fumbled with the tea kettle.

Eventually, he returned, carrying a steaming mug in one hand and a bottle of cold medicine in the other. He set the mug down on your nightstand, then opened the bottle of medicine with practiced ease, pouring a dose into the tiny cup and holding it out to you.

"Drink," he said firmly, giving you no room to refuse.

You made a face at the bitter smell of the medicine but reluctantly took it, downing it in one go. It was disgusting, of course, but you could already feel the effects of it working their way through your system.

Logan handed you the mug next, his hand lingering a little longer on yours as you took it. "Here. Tea. Storm said it’d help."

"Storm?" you asked, sniffling as you took a careful sip, the warmth immediately soothing your raw throat. "You called Storm?"

Logan shrugged, looking away as if it were no big deal. "She knows stuff about herbs or whatever. Figured she’d have somethin’ useful."

You couldn’t help but smile at that, even though your head was pounding. "That’s... kind of sweet, actually."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, refusing to meet your eyes. "Don’t make a big deal outta it."

For a moment, the two of you sat there in comfortable silence, the only sound the occasional clink of your mug as you set it back down. You leaned your head back against the pillow, letting out a long sigh.

"I’m freezing," you muttered, pulling the blankets tighter around you, though no matter how much you wrapped yourself up, the chill seemed to seep into your bones.

Logan watched you for a moment, then sighed and reached for the edge of the blanket. "Scoot over."

You frowned, confused. "What?"

"Move," he said, more insistent this time, tugging the blanket out of your grasp. "You’re freezin’, and I’m not gonna sit here watchin’ you shiver."

Before you could protest, Logan climbed into the bed next to you, pulling you to his side with surprising gentleness. He wrapped the blanket around the both of you, his body warm and solid against yours. You stiffened for a second, not quite expecting him to just jump into bed with you, but then his arm came around your waist, pulling you even closer.

His warmth immediately began to seep into your chilled skin, and you felt yourself relax, your head resting against his chest. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing was oddly soothing.

"You’re... cuddling me," you murmured, a bit bewildered but far too tired to argue.

"Yeah," Logan grunted. "And what of it?"

"Didn’t take you for a cuddler."

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Don’t go gettin’ used to it. This is just ‘cause you’re sick."

You smiled despite yourself, closing your eyes as you nestled closer into him. "Right. Just because I’m sick."

Logan’s hand stilled for a moment, and you could feel the way his chest rose and fell more steadily now as if he was content just being there. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice softer now. "Just ‘cause you’re sick."

The two of you stayed like that, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing. Logan’s warmth wrapped around you like a cocoon, and for the first time that day, you didn’t feel quite so miserable.

"You know," you mumbled, half-asleep now, "if this is how you take care of people, maybe I should get sick more often."

Logan chuckled softly, his hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. "Don’t push your luck, sweetheart."

Even though his words were gruff, there was a tenderness in his touch, a quiet care that made you feel safe. You drifted off to sleep with a small smile on your lips, warm and content in Logan’s arms.

Though he’d never admit it, Logan stayed right where he was, holding you close, watching over you for the rest of the night.

[ravencantwrite]

Imagine Logan with a chronically ill or the reader with some sort of a physical disability where they can't walk or has difficulty walking sometimes and he just picks you up (with your consent of course) and takes you wherever you want to at that time. Like, your knees are hurting? No worries, he'll just pick you up however you want him to- bridal style, piggyback, on his shoulders, over his shoulders, anything. And he wouldn't even hesitate. "But I'm too heavy". No stfu he will pick you up if you want to go somewhere and he just replies, "Do you think these muscles are just for show bub. I'll carry you if that's what you want".

And if you want to stay in that is fine by him too. He is just your personal human heat pad. His hands are already massaging your sore muscles before you even consider getting an actual heating pad. You need your medication but aren't sure if you have it? He already has your prescriptions memorized and stocked up. If you ever have doubts about burdening him he will ALWAYS remind you that he will always have your back, in sickness and in health. He is not one to leave you because you are sick, instead, he is going to be even more attentive towards you.

[sleepielamb]

if someone writes Logan Howlett fluff I will literally get on my knees and kiss ur feet pls I’m so tired of seeing just smut, I want to hold him and kiss him not fuck him (well I do BUT) (TAG ME CHAT)

[santrrl]

Hi! I love your posts about Wolverine. Is there a chance you write some sick fluff with fem Reader and actually sick Wolverine?

(Let's just pretend his healing factor failed somehow and he catched a cold and sneeze like a kitten 🤣😭😭)

YESS I CANNN and thank you so much oh my lord 🩷 we luv a good wolvie fic teehee <3<3<3<3<3

SICK!LOGAN X READER !!

Bullets n then story <3

"Lo, turn around." "no." "Turn around." "I would rather die." ".." "What are you doing?" "I'm putting the medicine in one of your holes, so hush."

He'd get up so quickly you'd think he was an offbrand quicksilver.

"Well, no medicine no fuckin tonight.'" THIS MAN LEAPS.

"That's not fair." He'd say, before sneezing all over the place, sitting down with the blanket on him.

Best believe he secretly loves seeing you knelt or crouched between his legs wiping mucus or whatever off of him, he loves the care.

He'd forget he's sick and lean in to kiss you, and when you'd back away he'd just keep going till he's almost off the couch.

You have to practically summon colossus and others to pin him down to take his temp. Why he doesn't like it? Fuck knows.

Lord help him, he practically forgot how to swallow pills, and with the illness slightly affecting his smell, it takes him hours to eat or drink for fear you're drugging him.

If you're in another room, all you'll hear is half your name, then a fit of what sounds like death, and after a minute of silence the other half.

Tease him and suddenly he's fine, hopping off the walls even.

DO NOTTT take a picture of him, he will destroy the phone and then you. once hes better of course, hes an old ass after all.

---

The mansion was quiet. Too quiet, and if it's quiet when Scott's here, there's something seriously wrong.

Climbing the stairs, something told you check on Logan, sure he's a wannabe strong independant woman, but he needs you more than he knows.

"Lo?" You ask, opening his door softly. "Oh god." is all you can hear. "Excuse me i'm actually amazin-" You stop dead in your tracks. Tissue box, used tissue, and sniffles. You practically float at the chance he's sick so you can take care of him. "Are you sick~" You slurred, almost skipping to him. "No." He grouched, barely looking at you before sneezing, causing you to dramatically jump back, before pointing at him.

"DISEASED! CONTAMINATEDD!!" You giggle, before actually going to his side. "All seriousness lo, you okay?"

".."

".."

"I can't even scratch my balls..." He huffed, and you almost cried, he looked so sad at that statement, you wanted to die laughing there and then, respectfully of course.

"My oh my Big bad wolfie." "shut it." "Alright, I'll go then." "Good...I know you're gonna be back so bring me a beer." He scoffed, before smiling at you as you turned around. Not a jackass smile, a genuine smile, nd before you knew it, you were handing him a beer, whilst also laying in bed with him. "Bub you're gonna get sick." "You'd do it for me...i hope." You smiled, looking at him as you played with his hair tufts.

Safe to say, nothing will stop you two from having a good day.

IM SO SORRY IF ITS TOO SHORT

[stupidfuckingwindow]

Logan who won't sit on your face because he's scared his Adamantium ass will break your neck

[greensaplinggrace]

honestly, maybe i'd like 'x reader' fics more if they weren't all sub!reader focused with more daddy kink than personality and as many projected issues flattening the central character into something truly ooc as i'd get with a character-bashing salt fic

[mushynka]

ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ. ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴏɴ!

【Ｆｌａｎｎｅｌ，Ｆｌｕ，ａｎｄ Ｆａｌｌｉｎｇ ｆｏｒ Ｙｏｕ】

Fluff/Care - Sick Lumberjack Logan Howlett x caretaker fem. reader

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in swirls of amber and lavender, as Logan trudged up the dirt path toward the cabin. He shifted the weight of his axe from one shoulder to the other, letting out a low grunt of relief when he finally spotted the warm glow of the windows ahead.

Little cabin was nestled in a quiet forest clearing, far removed from the chaos of Logan’s past life. The air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of pine and freshly fallen leaves. It was perfect — peaceful and unassuming, just the way he liked it.

The front door creaked open before he even reached the porch, and you stepped out, wrapping your arms around yourself to ward off the evening chill.

“You’re late,” you teased, smiling warmly as you watched him approach.

Logan grunted in response, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Got caught up with a stubborn tree. Thing didn’t wanna go down easy.”

“You look exhausted.” You leaned against the doorframe, your eyes scanning him for any sign of injury. It was a habit of yours — one Logan found both endearing and mildly exasperating.

“I’m fine,” he said, brushing off your concern with a wave of his hand. “Just need a shower and some food.”

As he stepped into the cabin, he paused to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, his roughened hand brushing against your arm. But before you could say anything, he turned his head away and sneezed.

“Bless you.”

Logan sniffed and rubbed at his nose, muttering something under his breath.

“Dust,” he explained gruffly. “Probably got a face full of it while cutting down that tree.”

You raised an eyebrow but decided not to press. Logan wasn’t one to admit when he was feeling under the weather. Still, you couldn’t help but notice the faint flush on his cheeks and the way his shoulders sagged more than usual.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of coughing.

Groaning softly, you rolled over and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. It was barely dawn, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting the room in a pale golden hue.

“Logan?” you murmured, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched and his head in his hands.

“I’m fine,” he said before you could even ask. His voice was rougher than usual, like gravel scraping against stone.

“You don’t sound fine,” you countered, scooting closer to him and placing a hand on his back. He felt warmer than he should, his skin radiating heat even through his flannel shirt.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, though the congestion in his voice betrayed him. “Just need some coffee and I’ll be good to go.”

You sighed, knowing better than to argue with him right away. “Alright. Let me make you something hot.”

Logan’s “nothing” turned out to be a full-blown cold. By midday, he was sprawled out on the couch, a blanket draped over his legs and a tissue box within arm’s reach.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” you said, standing in the doorway with a mug of tea in hand.

“What day?” Logan rasped, glaring at you over the rim of his mug.

“The day the indestructible Logan Howlett gets taken down by a cold.”

He groaned, flopping back against the cushions. “I’m not ‘taken down.’ I’m just...resting.”

You stifled a laugh as you walked over and handed him the tea. “Right. And I suppose the sneezing, coughing, and general misery are all part of your master plan?”

Logan glared at you again but didn’t argue.

Taking care of Logan was no small feat. He was as stubborn as a mule and twice as grumpy when he wasn’t feeling well.

“I don’t need this,” he protested as you handed him a bowl of soup.

“You need to eat,” you insisted, setting the tray on his lap. “And if you don’t, I’m going to sit on you until you do.”

Logan snorted, but the sound quickly turned into a coughing fit. You patted his back gently, trying not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Fine,” he grumbled, reluctantly picking up the spoon. “But only because I don’t want you to break my ribs.”

Over the next few days, Logan’s tough exterior began to crack. He still tried to put up a fight, insisting he could take care of himself, but it was hard to argue with you when he could barely stay awake long enough to finish a sentence.

You found him surprisingly endearing in his vulnerable state. His usual gruffness softened, and though he’d never admit it, you could tell he appreciated the extra attention.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered one evening as you tucked the blanket more securely around him.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, smirking. “But only because you’re such a terrible patient.”

“Terrible, huh?”

“Absolutely. The worst.”

Logan chuckled weakly, the sound warm and rich despite his hoarseness. “Lucky for you, I don’t get sick often.”

“Lucky for you,” you corrected, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Because if you did, I’d probably end up breaking your ribs for real.”

By the end of the week, Logan was on the mend. His fever had broken, and the color had returned to his face. He was still a little tired, but his usual gruff energy was starting to return.

“Thanks,” he said one evening, his voice softer than usual.

“For what?”

“For putting up with me. And...you know. Taking care of me.”

You smiled, leaning against his side. “Anytime, babe.”

“Don’t make it a habit,” he teased, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“No promises,” you replied, resting your head against his chest.

♡ END

♡ Thanks for every like/comment/reblog - means world to me. Hope you guys like it and to all sickies fighting cold/flu rn - Get well soon sweet pies ❤️❤️

[starlight-and-whiskey]

I'm here, bub.

Wolverine/Reader Sickfic. Brief drabble. May continue - let me know.

He leaned on the doorframe to your office, a thick unlit cigar resting between his teeth. “Hell of a cold you got there, bub”, he drawled, "Could hear you half way down the hall." “M’fine”, you groaned, not looking up as you worked through the next of your papers. Your hair was a mess, you were sure, and you were pretty sure your skin was misted with sweat.

Logan scoffed, his footsteps heavy on the floor as he walked over, perching on the edge of your wooden desk. “Do you mind?”, you croaked with annoyance, sniffling and clearing your throat as your tried to remove a student’s paper from underneath his ass. “Not really”, he smirked. Logan leaned across, yanking the pen from your fingertips before straightening and tucking it into the pocket of his shirt. “For Christ’s sake”, you grumbled in annoyance, “can you j-…ju…hehh-HITCHEW!” You snapped to the side with a harsh sneeze into your hands. “Snff – ugh… Can’t you just go annoy someone else?” "Oof, you sound like shit", he recoiled, his hands needling at the edge of the wooden desk as he chewed on the cigar, "Bless you."

You put your pounding head in your hands, rubbing at your aching eyes. God you felt awful. You'd woke up with a scratchy throat and a tickling nose that just wouldn't quit, but since then it had developed into an aching in your muscles.

With a huff, Logan pulled the cigar from his lips and pushed himself off the front of your desk before walking around beside you. Crouching, he grabbed the arm of your chair, spinning you to face him before pressing a slow kiss to your forehead.

When he drew back, you looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, only to see a concerned gaze. His firm hand replaced his lips, pressing hard and sure against your forehead for a moment before moving to brush your hair behind your ear.

“You’re burning up”, he said softly. His calloused hand traced up your arm in a way that sent goosebumps careening down your spine. “Enough work for one day.” “I’m fi…f-fhehh Heh-HhSHEITCHH!!” you stifled a sneeze into your sleeve. Sniffling, you batted his arms away from you. “I’ll be okay.” Logan batted your arm away with ease as he scooped you up in his arms. Embarrassment flooding your veins as he cradled you, carrying you up the stairs to your room. Despite it all, you allowed your head to loll against his chest. "Ugh...s...sorry....I have t...to...hehh...HITCXHHH!" You stifled a sneeze against the divot in his collarbone. “Bless you", he soothed as you sniffled, tightening his grip on you. "Come on, let’s get you to bed.” “I don’t want you to catch this”, you croaked as you sniffled. “I can’t.”

[just-a-silly-howlett-lover]

He breaks your jaw, he breaks my pelvis 💋💕

LOGANCORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[ddejavvu]

Cant stop thinking about Logan bending Wades darling little sister (in her 20s) over the kitchen table while Waded out on a mission. That is all I can think about right now

Insatiable - Logan Howlett x Reader

send me logan requests!

contents/warnings: smut, minors dni. age gap (legal; reader is in her 20's, logan is like... 200 years old.), wilson!reader, dirty talk, slight breeding mentioned

The only reason you're able to do it in the kitchen is because Wade isn't home, and you'd managed to shut the door on his pathetically endearing little dog. Mary Puppins is probably tearing up Wade's poor excuse for a comforter right now, and Logan is tearing up- well.

You.

Your pussy.

You're bent so far over the counter that your tits are cold, your nipples stiff and sensitive against the countertop. The pressure against them hurts, or maybe it's a lack of other stimulation against them- either way, they're stinging and you wish to right yourself and tug mercilessly at them.

But Logan's weight- not the full load, or you'd be crushed - is holding you down, your hands scrabbling uselessly at the smooth counter for purchase that you'll never find as you're rocked steadily into the cabinets below.

Logan's cock is buried so deep inside of you that you're not sure he'll ever get it out again, but then he does, and then he thrusts back in and you're hit all over again with a sense of shit, I didn't know I went that deep. He's found your limit, stretched your cunt to the breaking point with his impressive length, and his facial hair tickles the side of your face as he takes your cunt from behind.

Your face smacks painfully against the cabinets over the counter and Logan reaches a hand up to cover your forehead, "Shit, be careful. Head down, honey, there you go. Wouldn't want Big Brother finding an imprint of your face in the wood."

"Whaddya think he'd say?" Logan's suddenly snickering, a gruff delight to his voice as he rams his cock inside you once more, thrusting at a steady, merciless pace, "Shit, if he knew my old ass had his sweet little sister pinned up against the counter..."

Wade would kill him. Or try valiantly to, as it's been established before by Wade's best efforts that Logan is one difficult motherfucker to kill. But you don't fancy a bloodbath even if the vessel will survive, so you tuck yourself tight to the counter so that you won't have to explain to Wade why the cupboard door is off its hinges.

Leaning forwards more only pushes your ass out further, and Logan groans, dick twitching, as he's able to thrust more viciously beneath the curve of your ass. He's humping you like a dog, a depraved pace set as he chases an impending orgasm.

"Taking you in your brother's house- aagh, shit," Logan grunts, nose nudging against the back of your neck as he inhales your sweat, "God he's gonna drop his swords on this fucking counter as soon as he walks through the door, not- not even gonna know your tits were smashed up against it. He's gonna get coke from that cabinet in an hour," Logan's voice is strained, moreso the faster he pumps his hips, and all you can do is cry out as he ravages your cunt, "He's never gonna know I made his sister cream up against it. Never gonna know I fucked my fuckin' babies into you here, aah- agh-I-!"

Logan bites, hard against your shoulder, catching some of your neck in the process and introducing yet another blindingly painful sensation that turns into sick, twisted pleasure between your legs. Your cunt is spent, barely capable of another orgasm after you'd already had two fucked out of you before, but it gives you its best shot as Logan's thick, warm cum gushes into you, immediately too much for your poor pussy to handle as it drips down your thighs instead.

Logan relinquishes your shoulder with a low groan, his breath coming hot and heavy as he pants, "You alright?"

"Yeah," You whimper, legs shaking as Logan holds you steady, "I- I don't think I can stand anymore."

"That's okay." Logan hums, gentler now that he's fucked himself calm. He peels you off of the counter, supporting your body weight as he half-walks, half-drags you down the hallway towards his bedroom, "Next round's on my bed, sweetheart. You won't need to move a muscle."

[ravencantwrite]

I see your chronically ill reader x logan and raise you: chronically ill reader x old man logan. both of them are in pain most of the time, but going through it together makes things infinitely better. just spending your days taking care of each other! occasionally taking hot baths together to relieve any muscle and joint pain...it's a primal need

Old Logan x Chronically Ill! reader

Warnings: none really, just one mention of splinters, mentions of pain, and one mention of medication.

Note: Thank you for your ask! It's actually the first time I've ever received an ask and I'm really grateful. It's been quite some time since I last watched Logan but I agree old man Logan and reader taking care of each other is indeed a primal need. Here is a little something I thought about. Hope you like it.

Logan wasn't the same anymore. He was aging, getting older, and his grey hair and trembling hands were a testament to that. So when he comes home after splitting logs for the fireplace that he built for the both of you, you can see that he's clearly struggling. A splinter or two stuck in his fingers, his legs wobbling, not being able to walk in the same confident strides he took when he was younger. But you were there, one hand under his shoulder, helping him to the sofa. "Not as strong as I used to be bub". He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. And in moments like these, you knew that all he needed was a blanket wrapped around him, a warm fire, and you beside him, reading out excerpts from your favorite book.

And when you are cooking in the kitchen, maybe some soup, or those chicken tenders that he keeps saying he wanted to eat and you can't help but keep shifting your weight from one leg to another because the ache in your back keeps threatening to spill over the rest of your body he notices. He'll bring you a stool to sit down on and bring one for himself as well because he doesn't want to leave you alone. His hand rests over your back, gently massaging the muscle there, trying his best to provide some sort of relief.

When both of you call it a sick day and just lie on the bed, he'll always remind you where the meds are. He'll bring you both a glass of water each while you put your electric heating pads on charge, prepared to face the day. But all you do is sleep on the bed in each other's embrace. And when he wakes up before you he'll look down at you and smile, his fingers caressing your face. And when you wake up in his arms and see him look at you with so much love you place your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat against your fingertips.