#what’s her name? still Logan? Laura?

[yellowballoondogs]

Hopping on the Butch wolverine trend because I’m gay as hell and comic Laura had so much potential to look like this.

[mcrdvcks]

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change��, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae

[avocado-writing]

pairing: logan howlett x afab!reader. 18+, minors dni. angst; smut (p in v unprotected sex; handjob - logan receiving; oral - reader & logan receiving). canonically bisexual reader. mentions of pregnancy attempts. dp+w movie spoilers.

synopsis: in the Void, after leaving the other dead in your own timelines, you and Logan are reunited.

words: 8.5k.

notes: this was inspired by not your man by @studioghibelli and the worst logan by @coweye! please go and read both these fics and show their authors some love, they are both incredibly talented writers who deserve it! dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕

The past couple of days have been a lot. 

To be honest, anything that isn’t sitting at a bar drinking the place dry is a lot to Logan nowadays. He’s used to low lights, rumbling conversation around him, the fuzzier end of consciousness. Even now he aches for a drink, knowing he’ll have to wake up sober next to the asshole in red he spent the night putting down in that fucking minivan. 

He hopes, at least, he has been met with all the surprises that this place can afford him. 

Ah. But that’d be too fucking easy, right?

That Cajun bastard’s liquor sits comfortably in the cradle of his palm and he chases away lucidity one swig at a time. Tries to block out the half-baked plan Wade is concocting with the other poor bastards who have been stuck here, even if it’s all probably pointless. He only chimes in to laugh at their hope. 

Then Elektra turns, withering pity in her eyes, and seems to properly assess him for the first time. 

“They’re gonna be so disappointed when they see you.”

“Who?” he snorts, past the point of caring that he’d disappoint anyone. It’s then that Elektra hits him like a fucking freight train with just one word spilling from her lips: your name. 

Logan feels a flood of memories come back to him. Ones he’s spent too long trying to drink away. The early morning when you’d hide under the blankets together, your hand cradling his face and letting the whole world consist of just the two of you. The stolen kisses in quiet corridors so the students at the mansion wouldn’t catch you and start silly little rumours. 

Him holding your lifeless body in his arms surrounded by the rubble of what used to be your bedroom, your powers unable to save you. 

He doesn’t have anything to say, merely spitting vitriol to anyone who tries to speak to him, even that damn kid who still prefers the other dead Logan to him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s a fucking mess, worth less than nothing, and that Logan was a hero. 

He retreats in the evening to lick his wounds or, hopefully, drown them. People keep trying to fucking talk to him and he does not want it. Yet they’re fucking relentless, like the Void is perfect at creating gut punch after gut punch for him. Laura walks away into the darkness after successfully making him feel like shit - not that it’s difficult these days - and when he hears more footsteps he assumes it’s Wade coming to harass him about tomorrow. 

“Oh, will you fuck off - ?” he snarls, but the sight of you there, half lit by a dying fire with orange dancing on your skin, oh, it just kills any venom he can muster dead in his throat. 

Logan is looking at a ghost and he has never been less prepared for anything in his long, long life. 

Your mouth has fallen open into a soft “o” as you look at him, brows knitted together as you take in every imperfect aspect of his being. 

“Lo?” you whisper. Your voice hasn’t changed. 

“Logan,” he replies, gruff, unsure if he’s confirming or correcting. But fuck does it sound good to hear his name out of your mouth again, even if it’s just a syllable. 

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear and take a seat on one of the logs which has been pulled up as a makeshift bench. He tries not to watch the way the fire lights up your eyes. There’s an agonisingly long pause before you finally attempt conversation.  

“Long time no see, huh?” you ask with a weak grin. Fuck. It’s like a dagger. Your humour was always something which endeared you to him. Unlike Wade you never took it too far, cultivating your sincerity with your silliness in order to grow yourself into peoples’ hearts. 

His heart especially, and now it aches. 

He grunts, because he can’t bring himself to actually say anything. Can barely look at you. You keep talking, either not noticing or barrelling on regardless. 

“You know, when the gang said that you were here… I didn’t believe it. Thought there was no way a fucking Wolverine would fall into this place.���

“Let me guess,” he sneers, taking another long drag of bourbon, “I’m not what you expected.”

You laugh, an easy little thing, and part of him hates you for it. For reminding him of how it sounds. 

“I mean, you’re not. But not because of what you’re thinking.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” It comes out as a snap, lip curling back over his teeth in disgust. You do not look bothered in the least, just crossing one leg over the other and leaning back. 

“Because I know you, Logan. Knew my Logan too. Bet you’re spiralling, making yourself out to be some kinda disappointment. Well you’re not. You could never be.”

He desperately wants to argue but he simply doesn’t have the gumption. Besides, it’s nice to hear someone say something kind about him after all these years. 

“So,” you say after another one of those painful pauses, “considering every time you look my way you wince, you have a me in your timeline?”

He laughs without any humour in it, stares into the flames for so long they start to hurt his eyes. 

“Yeah. I did.”

“Ahh. ‘Did’. I died, then?”

You say it so flippantly, he can’t fucking stand it. 

“Mmm.”

“Makes sense. Don’t think I’d leave you in any timeline, so the only way I could see us ending would be if I wasn’t there any more.” You sigh, stretching your legs out to warm them. “Can I ask how it happened? Call it morbid curiosity.”

He absolutely does not want to talk about this. But, also… it’s you. Maybe not the you that was his, exactly, but it is you. Perhaps you deserve to know. He tries to stay dispassionate, as if he is a doctor quietly recounting the facts of death to a family member. 

“Mansion was attacked. Everyone died, including you. I wasn’t there. We’d had a fight, I went out drinking. When I got back you were gone.” He flexes his fist around the neck of the bottle, trying to avoid shattering it, but desperately needing to hold onto something. 

“Oh.” The fire crackles loudly. “What did we fight about?”

This will kill him. He will die in this Void. 

“You wanted to do another round of IVF. I didn’t want to be disappointed again.”

The words settle like a cloud of choking ash over the two of you. He takes a long drink. What a fucking failure he is, couldn’t even knock you up properly. 

“Fuck, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Does it help if I tell you I probably wasn’t that mad? I’ve never been really angry with you, you know. My Logan… we used to bicker a lot, we both had short fuses, but it never meant anything in the long run.”

He doesn’t know if it does help or not. Is it better to know that you died hating him, making it easier? Or that you were snuffed out while loving him the whole time?

“Your turn,” he says, because he can’t bear to continue this particular line of conversation, but for some reason he wants to keep talking to you. Your voice is a comfort he thought he’d long since lost. 

“You wanna see a picture?” you ask, a grin pulling at the sides of your mouth. No, he doesn’t, but when you reach into your jacket to grab the photograph, he finds himself holding his hand out to take it. You slowly float it over, telekinesis absolutely unnecessary - but you always did use it to make the little things easier. 

It’s old. Frayed and disintegrating at the edges, a thing which has been held and looked at over and over again. Faded slightly despite the fact that you clearly try to take good care of it. 

“Oh,” he says, eyes widening. You chuckle. 

“I know.”

Because, despite the lack of facial hair and addition of a decent rack, the woman with her arm around you in the photo is him. 

The Logan in the picture is about as butch as they come, decked out in a Wolverine’s trademark flannel and leather. One of her arms is wrapped around you to keep you close against her, the other playfully flipping the camera off with a middle claw, and she’s laughing with a joy he hasn’t seen on his own face for years. You’re pressing a kiss into her cheek and hanging onto one of her thick biceps. The two of you exude happiness. 

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She could be a mean cunt sometimes, smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, but fuck we were the centres of each other’s world.” You let out a long sigh and hold your hand out - Logan goes to give you the photo but instead you gesture for the bourbon. He passes it and you and you drink deeply, gratefully. “I’d been in a string of bad relationships. Guys who took me for granted, women who were toxic but I didn’t realise until I was in too deep. Then she came along and well… she was a fucking angel in plaid.” 

Logan’s thumb absentmindedly strokes the photo. He’s pretty sure there’s a near-identical one back in his timeline. 

“Our mansion was attacked too. She died getting the kids out.”

Fuck. Fuck. No, he can’t do this. He can’t face the way he should have died. He really is the fucking worst Wolverine. He snatches the bottle back from you, you give no resistance, and he polishes it off. The photo flutters to the ground. 

“I think it’s time you fucked off,” he growls out. You roll your eyes, fucking roll your eyes at him, something his version of you did on pretty much a daily basis, and the knife in his heart twists further. 

“Well, Logan, I’m not gonna do that. Because this conversation is the most whole I’ve felt in a long time, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way.”

He doesn’t. He does. He wants you to disappear forever. He wants to hold you close and kiss you, beg you never to leave again. He hates you. He loves you so, so much. 

He’s such a ruined man that it is laughable. 

“So what, I come along and just replace your little girlfriend? First Wolverine that you manage to get your hands on; is that what you’re hoping for?”

You bark out a laugh. It echoes around the trees. There are tears in your eyes when he turns to look. 

“Girlfriend? Logan, you were my fucking wife!” 

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that the laughter engulfs you, peals of giggles that double you over. You hold your head in your hands and it soon turns to bitter sobs. He wants to reach out and hold you, apologise for ever making you sad. He tries to get any lingering drops from the bourbon instead. 

“We got married at the mansion. Charles officiated. The kids made us cards. We didn’t get a honeymoon because we didn’t have the fucking time. We had five years. Five really happy years and you know what? We wanted a baby too. We were getting a donor lined up! And then when the attack happened you were the one getting all the kids out I begged you to come with us but you were too fucking good, you had to stay behind and make sure nobody followed us. And it cost you your fucking life. They ripped you apart Logan. I know because all I found of you was your head and your wedding ring. I didn’t even get time to mourn because I had a dozen children to fucking take care of! And I did because I knew that’s what you’d want me to do. It’s what you died for. So I lived in the fucking woods with all of them for years, and they were my family, and I made sure they were as safe and happy as I could make them. And you know what happened then? When they were all grown? A fucking TVA agent appears out of nowhere and tells me, ‘oops! Sorry! Your Logan wasn’t supposed to die, it was meant to be you!’ So they fucking throw me in this hellhole to rot away into nothing and I’m sorry, Logan, I’m sorry that when I heard you were here I got my fucking hopes up that you might be happy to see me, because if there was one person who understood all of the shit I’m going through then it might be you.” You throw your head back up to stare him dead in the eyes. “And it’s pathetic because you know what? Even after all this? I’m still not angry with you. I’m still happy you’re here. Because seeing you makes me feel better, despite everything.”

It’s a long-ass rant, and your words hang in the air after you’re done. He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say? He opens his mouth to apologise but the words just won’t come out. Because, yeah, if he really dissects himself and looks at the parts laid bare, he’s glad you’re here too. 

He reaches down to rescue the photo before an ember lands on it, gingerly extending into you. When you take it back his fingers brush yours. He wishes he wasn’t wearing gloves. 

“Who was the donor?” he asks eventually. That does a lot to alleviate the mood, and you smile through tear-streaked cheeks. 

“You might not like the answer.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me it was Scott.”

“The two of you got on okay! Butted heads a lot but he was always a good friend to us. Plus it was cheaper than going through an agency.”

He growls to himself and it makes you laugh, but properly this time. Things have started to soften and it’s… nice. To be like this with you again. You pause for a moment, stuck on whether to ask a question; hesitate over whether it’s a good idea, then barrel on regardless. 

“Can I ask a weird question?”

“You’re dangerously close to sounding like Wade,” he replies. You groan at that idea. 

“Ugh. Fucking Deadpools, man. We get one come along every now and then and trash the place before fucking off again. Apparently there’s like, a tribe of them out there somewhere.” You give a full-body shudder. “Imagine. No, it’s nothing like that, I guess. Can you… can you take off your glove? Left one.”

He has a horrible feeling about this but when you ask so nicely, that air of vulnerability around you, well it just seeps into his fractures and breaks him open. It takes a moment but he does, flexing his bare hand in the cool air. 

You reach around your neck and pull at a thin chain he’d barely noticed. The ring at the end slides up from where it’s been resting on your sternum under your shirt, glinting as you remove it. 

“Give me your hand.”

This is a bad idea. 

He does anyway. 

You slip the ring on his fourth finger, softly twisting it to fit over his knuckle as you go. It is the perfect size. 

“Will you look at that,” you mumble, not releasing your grip on him. “She… you always told me your hands were kinda big because of the claws. Like I cared. One of my favourite parts about you.”

Your fingers trace along his, finding the spaces between them and gently slotting your hands together. Logan isn’t sure if he’s the one who closes the grasp or if it’s you, but a beat passes and suddenly you’re holding hands. 

He’s not done this with you for so fucking long. An age of aching which is relieved at the feeling of your palm up against his. 

“So now what?” he eventually has to ask. You smile. 

“Well, I mean, your Deadpool is probably gonna get us all killed tomorrow…”

“Ugh. Don’t call him ‘my Deadpool’.”

“… so I’d quite like to just spend tonight holding your hand, if that’s okay. Seems like a pretty nice final night to me.”

When you hit him with those soft eyes, what other fucking choice does he have?

You don’t speak much for the rest of the night. Eventually the fire dies out. Laura comes to seek you out the next morning, and is surprised to find you lying side by side with this other Logan, the most deeply asleep she’s ever seen you, fingers laced together so tightly with his it looks like it might hurt. 

He comes to the fight, of course; dredging up what little courage he has left in him in order to prove he’s not totally pathetic. You catch his eye and smile so wide that he feels likes he’s done at least one good fucking thing in his life. He hears the sound of you ripping into people with an enthusiasm he hasn’t witnessed for years. The last glimpse of you he gets before he jumps through the portal is you using your telekinesis to tear a man’s head off and he does not want to examine himself too closely when it sends a jolt of arousal down his spine. 

They leave you all there to face the end, but everyone knew that’s what you were all getting into. There has been a net gain and loss of nil. He never had you again. Not really. Not for anything longer than a night, and maybe that will be enough. 

Yes. That’s enough. It has to be. 

When he tells Wade he’ll go into that room, when he volunteers to die, he does it with the knowledge he’ll be doing something good, finally. Something you’d be proud of him for doing. And with you waiting for him on the other end of oblivion it really doesn’t seem too bad a fate. 

But then Wade does what he always does and fucks up his perfectly meticulous plan, and they both make it through, so he has to keep going. 

When Wade asks the TVA agent to help the group of you they left behind, Logan is sure to add on that people should get the opportunity to go back to their timelines - surely it’s what you’d want (this oddly selfless request has Wade raising an eyebrow which he ignores). After all, why wouldn’t you want to go back? It’s where you belong. Where you’ll be happiest. Putting things nice and neatly back into their place after this whole fucked-up venture. 

He doesn’t have you, but he’s still alive and wants to be, and that’s something. A lot more than he’s had for a long time now to be honest. 

His life becomes this strange little thing that’s wrapped up with Wade’s. He sleeps on his pull-out sofa until he has somewhere proper to put down his roots. Tries to lay off the booze as much as he can even if each day is a fucking struggle. Makes steps towards finding a proper place for himself; even gets a job on the door at the bar across the street. It’s okay. One step at a time. He can put himself back together like that. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when a week later there’s a knock at the door. 

He assumes it’s Al who’s forgotten her keys, or is too drunk to fish them out of her purse after bingo, so opens it without really thinking. 

The second time you’ve nearly stopped his heart in seven days. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Oh,” is what he can manage. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. Your go-to. 

“Yeah. Sorry. I uh, followed you back, I suppose. The TVA were gonna send me home but I asked where you were and when the answer was ‘here’, well… didn’t make sense for me to be any place else.”

He blinks at you. After a beat of silence he can tell you hate, no doubt wondering if your choice was the wrong one, he lifts his hand to cup your face. You stiffen for a second and then nestle into his palm. 

“You’re real,” he states. You press your hand to his. 

“I am.”

He pulls you into his chest and you are more than willing to come. He feels the way you bury yourself into him, nose first, remembering what he smells like. Your arms wrap around him so tight it’s like you’re scared he will disappear when it should be the other way round: if anyone is dreaming it’s him. You bothered coming here for him. You uprooted your whole life for it. 

He could hold you forever but the neighbours are nosy and the apartment is a mess. He presses his mouth close to your ear. 

“Wanna get a coffee?”

You pull back to meet his gaze. 

“I’d love that.” Your eyes drop and you pull a face. “Oh, uhh, you might wanna get changed first, though.”

He looks down and realises what shirt he’s wearing before letting out a groan, which gets you chuckling. 

“Wilson’s letting me borrow his shirts until my first paycheck comes in. Just to slum around the apartment.”

“Oh, so you’re not ‘employee of the month at the dick sucking factory’?” You ask, reading the slogan on his tee.

“No. Looks like Wilson won out over me.”

The fact he’s made a joke hangs in the air for a moment and you burst into laughter, real actual laughter, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing he’s ever heard.

He grabs the only plain shirt Wade has left out, slices off the sleeves just because, and grabs twenty dollars from his roommate’s wallet. Soon enough you’re sitting in the little café near his building. The sky is grey and overcast, just threatening to rain but not quite bothering, and the two of you are tucked away in a corner table while Taylor Swift plays over the sound system. 

Logan does not like that he knows it’s Taylor Swift. This is what living with Wade has done to him. 

You watch him with affectionate eyes across the table, making sure nobody is paying close attention before using your telekinesis to stir the little metal spoon around in your latte. You nod at his mug. 

“You take coffee the same way as she did. Boring and black.”

Logan’s nostrils flare a little in a laugh. 

“Yeah, and you take yours the same way too. So fucking dense with syrup that it’s not coffee at all.”

“Oh you were always such a coffee snob! ‘Babe you gotta try it plain first so you can appreciate the aroma’,” you say, putting on a gruff affectation as a parody of his voice. 

“You do need to try it plain f—”

He’s interrupted when a sugar lump floats into the air from the pot in the middle of the table and launches itself at him, bouncing off of his pectoral. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Real mature, bub.”

“Grouch.”

“Contrarian.”

“I’m not a—” you pause, realising there’s no way to win against that accusation, and grin at him instead. 

“Where are you staying?” he asks after a long drink. It’s not booze. He kinda wishes it was booze. But also, he knows it’s best not to go down that path again, for everyone’s sake.

“The mansion. Turns out I died in this timeline too, so you and I are two for two here” - there’s a hint of a smile at your own macabre observation - “but they were using my room for storage so they just let me have it back.” You grimace a little. “It’s been weird. It’s my space but it’s not, y’know?”

“I get that.”

He probably gets it better than anybody. Nice to have someone to share this strange, singular feeling with. 

“You should come around. Laura’s there too, I know she’d be glad to see you too.”

“She settling in okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll take a while, but everyone has been really understanding and kind. I think she’ll thrive here.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You give him a smile that lets him know you believe it. Your eyes cast over him, taking in this new, slightly more settled Logan, falling still when you see what’s pressed against his fourth knuckle. 

“You’re still wearing the ring.”

“Oh,” he replies, surprised. Flexes his fingers as he looks at it. It’s been so comfortable there, so utterly unobtrusive and right, he hasn’t even noticed. “You want it back?”

A beat passes as you consider the question. Coffee is sipped. Another sugar added and stirred, perhaps just for show. 

“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I kinda like seeing you wear it but… if you were gonna have my ring, I’d want it to be one that was meant for you.”

He lets that idea settle between the two of you. Suddenly, slowly, you’re reaching forward, laying your smaller hand over his thick, rough one. 

“Logan. I want to be with you. In every way you’ll have me, all of it. I don’t know if it was fate or god or plain luck that threw us back together but I’m certain I don’t wanna waste this opportunity. I’d love you in every lifetime, in every timeline. I can’t be without you ever again, I think it would just kill me - and if I know you, you feel the same.”

He doesn’t even bother arguing because he does. When you turned up on his doorstep a scant couple of hours ago a part of his soul had been healed; your existence like kintsugi to piece him back together. A man made of adamantium and gold. 

“I’d like that,” he manages. 

“Yeah?” Your eyes glimmer with a hope which he’s not been privy to for a long time now. 

“Yeah.”

“Well, okay then,” you say with a smile, and drink your coffee. 

The two of you do not take it slow. How does one take it slow when your soulmate comes back into your life? You are not exactly the same person he once knew, but you understand each other in every way which matters. Your souls fit together like puzzle pieces. The two of you are whole again. 

Then again, perhaps he doesn’t need the version of you he used to have. Maybe, now, he needs this you - rougher around the edges, a little older and more wary, a fit which is better for him. Someone who can put up with his bullshit as Al once bluntly put it. 

You barely spend a night apart. You stay over with him on Wade’s pullout (inciting an input of, “something the two of you had better do, we can’t afford a kid on my income—!” before Logan had hurled a water bottle at him) meeting up with him after his shift is done in the small hours, getting something to eat at one of the greasy spoons which remain open. He devours full plates of fatty food; you stick to slices of pie which you feed him bites of from your fork. When you get back to the apartment you cuddle up on the uncomfortable mattress which folds from the sofa and fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

He sleeps pretty well nowadays. 

The two of you only realise you haven’t kissed yet when you do it for the first time. You’re making a coffee run, tugging on his jacket because you like the smell of cigar smoke and it’s thicker than yours. A little act of intimacy which has become commonplace. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Mm-hm.”

“Boring,” you make an exaggeration of a sigh, before leaning over the back of the sofa to press your lips to his. He automatically leans into it, tilting his head up so that he can meet you; it’s a chaste little thing, a peck between two people who will only be parted for a moment, but you pull back in surprise when you realise what’s just happened. 

“Oh!” you say with delight, eyes sparkling.

Your hand slips around his neck to cradle him, fingers playing with the hair at his nape. You gently pull him back for another. Longer this time. Lips slip together, moving carefully in something a little deeper. When you break for a moment it’s Logan who pulls you back. This third kiss is on the brink of hungry. He slides his tongue to swipe against your mouth and you let out a happy little hum at the intrusion. 

His arm curls around your back. With a little tug he pulls you over the back of the sofa and into his lap, making you yelp with glee. His mouth returns to yours, crushing, greedy for any little noises you’re able to make. You relax into it and are happy to take whatever he gives you. 

Wade finds you making out on the couch like a pair of teenagers, coffee forgotten. He does not let Logan live it down for a week. 

The apartment is fine, but not a long term solution. Wade and Al are constant presences that stops the two of you being fully at ease together. Logan knows that invitation to go to the mansion is always there, but it’s a while before he takes it - he really isn’t sure what he’ll feel, being back at a place he last saw burned to the ground because of his pigheadedness. Might just break him all over again. 

But ah, when you nock your fingers in the spaces between his, he can face anything. 

One night, exhausted and full of diner food, he agrees to go back to yours - the two of you have had a late night coffee meaning you’re still a tiny bit buzzed, a little too much to fall asleep on the pullout. Instead you get a taxi to yours, near enough, tipping the driver well when he drops you in the middle of a random street and choosing to walk the last minutes hand-in-hand.

The mansion is quiet. Everyone is mostly asleep. And Logan does feel strange being back here, but it isn’t a bad strange. Just another aspect of this new life he has to compartmentalise. 

You drag him through low-lit halls, confident in the steps which will lead you back to your room; he recalls a similar journey from his own timeline in the night you first hooked up, smuggling him to your bed down the corridors all wandering hands and breathless kisses and giddy giggles; but there’s no part about you that wants to hide this. 

You’d show your Logan off to the world. 

You’ve tried to make the room your own, he can tell. It’s pretty big and spacious. Good view. Has an ensuite which he plans on monopolising. He shucks off his clothes and sleeps in just his boxers, arms holding you to him so he can feel every part of your body against his. His chest hair bristles between your shoulder blades and you hum contentedly. 

He agrees to come to breakfast the next morning and, to their credit, people are good at not staring. The members of the team he recognises from his past keep their distance unless he seeks to close it. Hank gives him a smile. 

“Good to see you, Logan.”

“Mmm,” he manages. Laura comes down to grab something to eat and lights up when she sees him. She gives him a hug which skews on the side of awkward but he’s grateful to receive it, and he can see how pleased you are watching this development. 

He comes around more and more often. 

Less time spent at the apartment with Wade - who constantly complains about the fact and Logan cannot tell if he’s sincere or not - more living in the pocket of you. He helps you sort out the furniture in the room so that there’s more space; you’re moving a chest of drawers to another corner together when a photo falls out from behind them. Trapped against the wall for years. Long forgotten. 

“Oh,” you say, lifting it up and bringing it to your hand with a wave. Your face twists into something strange and bittersweet, a mask Logan isn’t quite sure how to comprehend, but he quickly understands why when he joins you. 

It’s a picture of the two of you. 

Not exactly the two of you, of course; the ones of you who lived in this timeline. Logan is posing on the back of his Harley, you’re propped up on the seat next to him with your head thrown back in laughter. The two of you look… young. This must have been taken when you first started going out. 

Your thumb caresses the photo in a movement he’s familiar with. 

“Huh. Looks like we were together here, too. Who’da thunk it,” you mutter.

He slips an arm around you then because he’s feeling oddly sentimental. It’s reassuring. No matter what timeline it is, there’s a you who loves him and a him who loves you. A simple and irrefutable truth, like the fact that the sun rises every day or the moon moves the tides. 

“Apparently Magneto got me in the late noughties. Feels like a bit of a pathetic way to go, but diverging timelines, I guess.”

Logan knows that in this timeline, he stuck around for a while after. Poor bastard, he thinks. Having to live those years without you. That’s a misery he understands all too fucking well. 

But not any more. 

You leave the photo on your dresser, loathe to throw it away, and continue moving furniture to make room for the TV you just bought. Logan hates sharing the one in the living room, especially when the hockey’s on.

Eventually Logan is spending so much time with you he’s barely living at Wade’s any more. You’ve suggested they’d be happy to have him back in the mansion for a “teaching job” like you have, though he knows there’s never much teaching involved, more helping kids learn to defend themselves without too much collateral damage. Still it’s a fair chunk of change better than his current miserable doorman’s salary and it means he’d be living at more sociable hours.

Plus he’d get to move in with you, an idea you’re both secretly happy about. 

So he hands in his notice at the bar and packs the scant few belongings he has at Wilson’s into a cardboard box from Bad Dragon, which is strangely the only one Wade could find him (“god Peanut that’s so weird, oh well!”). Looks around the apartment he’s called home for some time, feels not entirely pleased to be leaving it. 

“And remember sweetie, if it all goes incredibly wrong and you realise the place you’ve belonged the whole time is on my undoubtedly piss-soaked pull out sofa bed, Al and I will be happy to have you back with minimal taunting.”

Logan fixes him with a look. 

“Wilson?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” The word is odd coming from his mouth but not insincere. Wade goes to say something that’s no doubt stupid and inappropriate, however he softens at the last moment. 

“Any time. Go get ‘em, tiger, I’m rooting for you.”

You’ve moved your stuff so he can have a side of the closet, and drawers in the dresser, and he resumes his life with you. 

It takes only a couple of days for him to settle and realise how much he prefers this. Living with you properly. How, really, he couldn’t stand to be apart from you. How he wants to be there for every second, hear every laugh which drips from you, comfort you whenever something threatens to ruin your happiness. 

He falls asleep with you wrapped in his arms every night. Wakes up with you there. Pretty fucking perfect if you ask him. 

There’s nothing special about the morning when you first make love except for the fact it’s the morning when you first make love. It’s a border the two of you haven’t quite crossed yet. Almost as if you’re both afraid to make the commitment, like it may break you apart; there’s perhaps an underlying fear that you’re being unfaithful to your partners from your own timelines. That being together like that dishonours their memory. 

It’s a salve, then, that the longer you’ve been together the more you realise that you don’t love each other as a stand-in for the ones who died, but entirely on each other’s own merits. He doesn’t look at you and see the body he held in the manor. He sees someone who he’d protect, give his life to, become a dog for because he’s utterly in love with this you, the one who was so happy to find him in the Void, the one who patched him back together when he was at his most broken. 

There’s nothing to second guess in this relationship. It is the most solid foundation he’s ever had, and from the way you look at him every morning as if he’s hung the stars, you feel the same. 

That morning he’s holding you particularly tight. It’s a Sunday, the quietest day at the mansion, and the two of you are in bed later than you’d usually be. You’re both awake because you’re pressing more and more into each other’s bodies, nestling together like nesting dolls. His arm slung around your waist, hips against the swell of your ass. 

You shift slightly and he feels his cock harden in interest. Why wouldn’t it? Most beautiful person in the whole world right here in his bed. He might be old but he’s not a fool. 

He’s aware your hips are moving again, pressing yourself into him harder. He lets out a quiet, gruff laugh. 

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

“Mmm, maybe I am, Howlett. What are you gonna do about it?”

You squeak with laughter as he surges upwards, pinning your hands to the mattress either side of your head so that he can look down at you. Such a pretty picture beneath him. Hair all fanned out, eyes sleepy and sexy, ready to take in the syrupy-slow pace of the morning. 

His lips press into yours softly but firm. You hum into the kiss, slipping your wrists from his grasp so that you can wrap your arms around his broad neck and tug him closer. Your legs slowly match pace, looping at his waist. His cock is free to press against your clothed core now and he doesn’t waste a second of the opportunity; he grinds down, never letting it distract from the kiss for a second, even smiling into it when he can feel the blunt head of his dick catch your clit. You gasp. 

“Logan…”

Oh yes, that’s it. That’s the voice. He could listen to you say his name a million times and it would still be the sweetest sound in the whole fucking universe. 

He kisses you again and again, getting more fierce now. Tongues slide together and you moan into his mouth. Teeth clack with the force of it. He wants every sense to be drowned in you. Your smell, your taste, your touch. You’re holding him so tightly it’s like you’re worried you’ll just float away from the bliss of it all.

He’d never let that happen. He’ll keep you right here in this bed, forever, if you’d let him. 

With a display of telekinesis he’s not expecting, Logan finds himself on his back. You stare down at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he’s never been more turned on in his entire life. 

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask breathlessly, and he finds himself huffing out a laugh because fuck, as if you’d ever have to ask. You take his meaning and giggle before you start to make your way down the plain of his chest. A kiss dropped on the top of his pectoral, followed by you moving that sweet mouth around one of his nipples to play with it. Logan huffs and arches into your touch like a schoolgirl. You use your teeth to continue the trail, tracing around his abs - which have become less pronounced ever since he started eating right, and you’ve often expressed your pleasure at this fact - mouthing at where his muscles shape his Apollo’s belt. 

Your hand goes to palm his cock through his boxers and he has to make a concentrated effort not to come. It’s been a while since he was touched properly like this, and though he used to be able to go all night when he was a younger man, he truly doesn’t know if he has it in him today.

You seem delighted by this development though. Holding his gaze you slowly drag his waistband down to his thighs, watching in delight as his cock bobs up, half-hard. You take him in hand and pump him lazily, languidly, enjoying every stroke which makes him firmer. You prop yourself up on your free arm, elbow on the mattress and palm cradling your jaw, eyes on him like he’s the show of the century.  

“Handsome, handsome, handsome man,” you sigh, dreamily. 

“Old man,” he chuckles. 

“Not mutually exclusive.”

He has to concede that with the way you’re looking at him like you might eat him alive.  

When he feels your mouth around his cock his brain almost short-circuits. It’s warm and wet and willing, your tongue gliding along the thick vein you find there before caressing his head. Logan grunts, fisting the blankets, and a familiar snik has you looking up. You grin around his shaft when you see his claws have popped out from the intensity of his gripping hands. 

Pleased, you continue with your work. You bob up and down as the fire builds in his belly, a low heat which is soon bubbling over when he feels you press the tip of your tongue into his slit, humming with pleasure as the taste of his pre floods you. Logan is aware he’s beginning to tighten in a way which suggests that if you don’t stop now things will be over entirely too soon.

Claws retracting, his hand comes to grab your hair. His cock is enveloped in the sweet velvet of your throat, in fact he can feel himself brush against your uvula, and when you look up at him like that he almost gives up completely. He powers through though, carefully guiding you up and off. You wipe your spit-soaked mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Oh… was it not…?” you don’t voice the word ‘good’ but it hangs there anyway. Logan rumbles with a laugh.

“Fuck, it was the best thing I’ve felt in years. Wanna fuck you properly, though. Come up here and sit on my face, baby. Need to taste you.”

Your eyes go wide. Like he’s come up with the idea of the century.

“Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

There is nothing elegant about the way you pull yourself up the length of his body, but it is filled with a primal need which is far more sexy. You pause at his abdomen in order to rub your soaked cunt across his abs a couple of times. Fucking the muscles there. You throw your head back in gratification and continue up along his chest before a strong thigh is planted either side of his face.

Looking up at you from his back is his favourite view. Logan wastes no time in clamping an arm around either one of your legs and pulling you cunt-first onto his tongue, you gasp and writhe in delight.

“Oh fuck, Logan!” you hiss. Yeah, that’s it. That’s the voice he wants to hear. All strung out with sex and pleasure because of him. He fucking buries himself in you. Kisses your pussy sloppily, changing his attention from between your clit and your folds, no rhythm to his need. When your fingers scratch his scalp in your need to grab a fistful of hair he thinks he might be in heaven. His hips buck into the air, imagining the action of taking you before he’s even properly started. You start to fuck yourself on his face. Hips grinding down onto his beard, groaning at the stubble there which prickles and pleases.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuckin’ do it,” he mumbles from between your legs. You cum in his hot, wanting mouth; all the furniture in the room rattles as you let out a little involuntary telekinetic jolt.

You are not done. This was the appetiser. Eyes still ravenous you peel your pussy off of his face, sweeping down to kiss him so you can taste yourself there. Moaning in delight at the musk.

“Wanna ride you…”

“Anything,” he breathes because, yeah. He will do anything you ask, anything you want. He’s a loyal hound at your heel. 

When you take his cock it’s with less teasing this time, more intent. Spreading your legs wide you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down. He wants to grab. Your flesh, the blankets, anything. Sensing his desperation you hold out your hands when he’s far enough inside you and he meets them in midair, pressing his fingers between yours, knuckles white from the effort.

Hips nestle against his. You begin to move.

“Logan…” 

Your name leaves his lips in a similar whisper, dragged out through his throat from his very heart. You look down at him, eyes clear and wide and lucid despite the heady pleasure.

“Logan. I love you. I love you.”

Yes, you love this him. Not as a stand in for the Logan you lost, not as some sort of idol on a pedestal, but because you’ve fallen for him just like he’s fallen for you. He is worth loving. He is. He is worthy of you. It is a realisation which hits him with the force of a bomb. He grips you tighter.

“I love you too,” he confesses. He feels his pulse sync with yours from where he’s sheathed inside you, grips your hands tighter because he knows you can take it; you hold him back just as hard. Your hips rock in a wild rhythm as he brings his own up to meet them. It’s hard to know who’s fucking who, it’s wild and desperate and raw, but you keep chanting those words as a manta.

Logan. I love you. Logan. I love you.

He only lets go of one of your hands when he can feel he’s about to finish, dropping it to your clit in order to press rough circles there. You come messily over his cock and he spills inside you, pumping you full of him. Marking you as his.

You collapse into his arms, sweaty and spent. He holds you with arms like iron. Cock still inside, softening now, but he doesn’t want to to break the contact.

You pull back after a moment of breathing together, propping your elbow on his chest.

“Hey.”

He smiles back, a real smile, something he’s not been truly able to produce for years.

“Hey.”

“I meant it, you know. I love you,” you trace a pattern on his collarbone, silly and intimate. 

“I know. So did I.”

“Mmm, okay, good.” You kiss him and hum into it. “We should get up.”

“Probably.”

“But let’s not.”

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me.”

You laugh, and oh you are the sunlight. 

The summer heat is cloying but Wade has set up some parasols on the top of his building to hide under, he did not specify where he got them but a few local restaurants seemed to be without on the journey back to the apartment. The group of you are definitely not meant to be up here, but with the weather so hot, nobody cares enough to cause a fuss. 

It’s a small gathering. Logan stands at the grill because it’s where he’s most comfortable, supervising the chaos. That awful mutt of Wade’s is looking up at him with expectant eyes and, when he’s sure nobody is watching, he throws her a hamburger which she goes crazy for. 

And it’s… nice. He didn’t even complain when Wade put on the 1989 album. A few of his old roommate’s friends, a couple of them now mutual - Piotr is a pretty relaxed guy to be in the mansion with, and the two teens who Wade somehow befriended get along with Laura. You’re talking with Peter who for some reason is always at these gatherings but he’s probably the least offensive person here. 

He says something which makes you laugh, and you look over to Logan as you both settle. You gesture at the bottle of soda in your hand, an invitation; he nods. 

You stand, rummage in the cooler, and close the gap. He eyes the glass bottle of Dr Pepper with disapproval; you give him a playful shove. 

“C’mon, be good. You just got your one month chip. Keep it up, we’re proud of you.”

He grumbles his acceptance and takes it. It is pretty refreshing to be fair. He settled the hand he’s not using on the grill around your waist, pulling you so that you settle nice and snug against his flank. You grin up at him, pleased with the show of affection.

“Hey handsome,” you chuckle. 

“Hey gorgeous.”

“You make me the happiest I’ve ever been, you know that?”

Day by day he’s letting himself believe it. That he’s the kind of man who could make someone as amazing as you happy, as over-the-moon with joy as you make him. 

Before he can answer Yukio appears by the grill, pointing a Polaroid camera in your faces. 

“Smile!” she says, and the two of you do, because she’s a nice kid and you don’t wanna let her down. She snaps a photo and watches it quickly develop, shaking it loudly in the air before admiring her work. 

“Awww, cute! I hope me and Ellie are like you guys when we’re your age. Here ya go!”

She passes over the photo before skipping away to find her next victim. Logan has to try and hide a laugh at the indignant splutters that are escaping you. 

“Our age…?!” you mutter, but soften when you look down at the picture. It’s nice. The two of you make a good-looking pair that’s for damn sure, he can almost understand Wade’s insistence of “letting him watch one night”. But most importantly, the two of you look… happy. With each other. With this slice of life. 

“This is a great one,” you declare. 

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s looking at you. 

When you get home tonight, late by the time you pull up to the mansion, you’ll toe off your shoes as you walk in through the door like you always do, but this time you’ll pause to put this photo in front of the one you found behind the chest of drawers, and Logan will feel content that he never has to be without you again. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[starkwlkr]

pretty in pink | logan howlett

an: this comes straight from my delusional mind

dad!logan (you can choose if you want this to be an old man logan fic!!)

All week your daughter, Ada, had been reminding everyone about her sixth birthday that was coming up. She made sure you and Logan marked it on every calendar in the house. During dinner, all she talked about was her pink princess themed party.

“And the cake has to be pink!” She said for the hundredth time. She sat in her chair at the table completely forgetting she was supposed to be eating her spaghetti.

“We know, Ada. You told us everyday before and after school.” Logan said.

“I told the girls in my class to come too. They said they wouldn’t come because we’re freaks.” Her excitement about the party died down.

Laura, now a teenager, gave her sister an encouraging smile. “They’re the freaks. You’re the coolest girl in school. That means we get to have all the cake.” That earned a laugh from Ada. Logan chuckled, it warmed his heart to see his daughter’s bond.

“Your party is going to be the best, my love,” You stood up and grabbed your and Logan’s plate that were now empty. “Finish up and then get ready for bed, both of you.” You walked to the kitchen sink and began to wash the dishes.

Laura immediately challenged Ada to see who could finish their spaghetti first. After a scolding from their parents, Laura let Ada win. Soon, the sisters raced upstairs to get ready for bed.

As you and Logan finished cleaning, you couldn’t help but think about your little girl. Your sweet innocent little girl didn’t deserve to be called a freak. Your thoughts were interrupted when a car pulled up to your driveway. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially not at this hour.

“Stay here.” Logan said to you after he wiped his hands on a dish rag. He walked out the door ready to confront whoever it was. The car’s headlights were blinding him, but once he heard the familiar voice call his name, he put away his claws.

Inside you were still wondering who it was. Before you could join Logan outside, Ada had run down the stairs already in her princess pajamas.

“Mommy, who’s outside?” She asked you. Her question was answered when Logan walked in with Rogue by his side. Ada screamed in excitement when she saw her other sister. “You’re here! You’re here!” The little girl ran to Rogue and gave her a welcoming hug.

“I wouldn’t want to miss your princess party.” Rogue picked up the girl.

“Are you going to sleep in my room? Dad got some new books for me!”

“Oh you bet we’re going to stay up all night reading those books! I’ll be up in a few, let me talk to mom and dad for a sec,” Rogue set her down. The adults watched as Ada happily skipped up the stairs to her room. “Alright, what’s wrong?” She looked at you and Logan.

“What? Nothing wrong, why are you asking?” Logan asked surprised by her question.

Rogue knew she wasn’t going to get a straight answer from Logan so she looked at you. You sighed and told your daughter the truth. You were nervous about Ada’s party. A few of her classmates did tell her they were attending, but you were convinced they were only coming to make fun of her and ruin her big day.

“Those little shits ain’t going ruin my girl’s party.” Logan added.

“Honey, those little shits are first graders.” You corrected him.

“Little shits or not, Logan’s right. This is Ada’s party and she’s going to have the best damn princess party in the world.” Rogue declared. Before she left, she gave you and Logan a kiss on the cheek then walked up the stairs to Ada’s room.

Logan noticed that you still had a concerned look on your face. “Hey, Ada is going to be okay.”

“I just don’t want my little girl to get hurt.” You said.

“I won’t let anything or anyone hurt any of my girls.” Logan reminded you.

With that, you and Logan finished cleaning and went up to Laura’s room to say goodnight. As you reached Ada’s room, you saw her and Rogue already asleep. You quietly took the book out of Rogue’s hand and put it back on the bookshelf then adjusted the blanket over your daughters. You gave them both a goodnight kiss and left the room.

In the morning, Ada was the first to wake up. She ran to yours and Logan’s room as fast as she could and jumped on to the bed screaming that it was her birthday. Logan groaned since she had landed on his stomach.

“Wake up! It’s my birthday!” She giggled as Logan sat up and brought her into his arms.

“How old are you today? Eighty? Ninety seven?” He watched as Ada’s smile dropped.

“No, that’s you!”

You were trying so hard to hold in your laugh, but failed. Logan playfully rolled his eyes. It was Ada’s day, he wasn’t going to get mad at her on her special day.

“Okay birthday girl, I believe your sisters promised a special birthday breakfast just for you.” Logan told Ada.

The now six year old gasped as soon as she heard ‘special breakfast’. She immediately jumped off the bed and ran downstairs to the kitchen where Laura and Rogue were making breakfast.

Logan sighed deeply and rolled over to his side, his eyes meeting yours. “Remember . . . Everything is going to be okay today.”

You hummed in response.

Eventually you and Logan joined the girls in the kitchen. Laura and Ada were throwing grapes into each others mouth while Rogue laughed at them failing miserably. Ada had thrown a grape so far from Laura that it hit Logan’s head when he walked in.

“Ada! You hit an elderly man!” Rogue teased.

“Kids.” Logan rolled his eyes yet again.

As a family you all sang happy birthday to Ada as Rogue placed a stack of pancakes topped with whipped cream and Ada’s favorite fruits. The little girl’s smile brought joy to her family.

“Wait, let me get the camera!” You ran to the cabinet that had random items inside. You grabbed the camera and snapped a couple of pictures of your girls and Logan.

It was a beautiful start to a beautiful day.

As the day went on, Rogue and Laura helped decorate the backyard with princess themed decorations. Ada was too busy running around in her pink princess dress to help. Logan was inside blowing up balloons until members of the x-men started showing up.

“Is that the big bad wolverine in a plastic tiara?” Scott Summers chuckled at the sight of Logan wearing a tiara that Ada had given him.

“Watch it, I don’t want you bleeding all over my daughter’s party when I—” Before Logan could finish, Ada joined them with more tiaras in hand. She gave one to every member telling them they couldn’t enter her party if they didn’t wear it.

And that’s how Scott Summers ended up with a plastic pink tiara on his head.

Ada was enjoying her party so far. A couple of classmates did end up attending. You saw as they played on the swing set that Logan had bought for Ada for her last birthday.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Logan said as he stood beside you.

“Hey,” you relaxed more when he was close to you. “Did you see the big box Storm brought for Ada? I bet it’s a big doll house.”

“You’re wrong. It’s definitely a large case of beer for me and you to enjoy when our girls are passed out.”

You chuckled. “After this, no more parties until next year.” You placed a kiss on his lips.

“Whatever you say . . .” He got another kiss in before Ada came running to you with a butterfly knife in hand and the biggest smile on her face.

“Mommy! Daddy! Uncle Wade got me a pretty knife!”

“Uncle Wade?!” “What the fuck!” You and Logan yelled at the same time.

“Hey mommy milf dearest! Peanut! Guess my invite got lost in the mail . . . again. I’m starting to think it’s on purpose. Harsh! Whatever, hey kids! Who wants to learn how to use this baby!” He held up his gun.

“Wade, No!”

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [14] - Shelter

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Some storms lead one to their shelter.

Word Count: 3758

CW: Explicit language, angst, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

Theo had definitely taken after you when it came to making friends, and you were beginning to think that it had something to do with the fact that you both could speak for hours nonstop once you found someone to listen to you.

And Laura was apparently no exception.

“…And she does speak but only sometimes!” Theo told you as you helped him put his clothes into the small luggage so that you could wash them at the weekend. “And she says Sir Bartholomeow is nice to her too, which is so weird because I thought I was the only one he was nice to! Mommy, how did you know we could be friends?”

You grinned at him. “Moms have superpowers Bean.”

“Do you know um—do you know if Sir Bartholomeow and Cheeto and Popcorn will ever be friends?”

You hissed in a breath, scrunching up your face.

“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that sweetheart,” you said. “Cats and fish aren’t known for being good friends.”

“Maybe we could get a catfish.”

“Bean, that’s not…” you tried to hold back your laughter. “That’s not how names work in the animal world.”

“Sheepdog get along well with sheep,” he pointed out and you smiled.

“Good point, my little genius,” you said, ruffling his hair. “But think about it this way, do you think tiger sharks get along well with tigers?”

Theo thought for a moment. “I don’t think they spend enough time to get along well, one of them is in the ocean and the other one is on land.”

You nodded your head with a laugh, zipping his luggage up.

“Alright,” you said. “Everything seems to be in order, so we can—” you were cut off when you turned to find Laura by the door, half hiding behind the doorframe. You smiled at her softly, and waved at her.

“Hi Laura,” you said before you introduced yourself and she eyed you in complete silence, shifting her weight from one foot to other.

“Laura, this is my mom!” Theo said with a bright smile. “She’s awesome and the best mom in the world!”

You could feel the happiness filling you with warmth in your chest as you squeezed his shoulder in an assuring matter.

“Theo told me all about you,” you told her and her eyes flitted over to Theo before looking up at you again. “Did you like Cheeto and Popcorn? Theo says you’ll look after them for the weekend.”

A small smile twitched her lips before she nodded her head quietly.

“That’s so kind of you,” you told her. “They’ll definitely be happy to have you to keep them company.”

“And they can keep you company,” Theo added. “That way you won’t get bored while I’m away!”

“I’m sure Laura can spend time with her other friends while you’re not here, Bean.”

Laura stole a look at you and shook her head for a moment, a gesture so subtle that you couldn’t even be sure whether you’d seen it or not as if it was an automatic response. You tilted your head in confusion but then the thought hit you; Laura still didn’t have any friends other than Theo. Theo blinked up at you, fixing his glasses and you felt a pang in your stomach, then smiled at Laura.

“Laura,” you said. “Would you like to spend the weekend with Theo and I?”

 Theo gasped, a huge smile lighting up his face and Laura’s eyes snapped up to yours before she looked over her shoulder, biting inside her cheek.

“Ask your father, but he knows me,” you said and turned to Theo. “You can go with her, Bean. I’ll wait you two in the car, okay?”

“Mr. Logan isn’t here mommy, he’s away on a mission.”

Oh, that explained his absence.

“I see,” you said. “Is it okay if I call him then, Laura?”

Laura nodded fervently and you grabbed your phone out of your pocket.

“I’ll be right back,” you told them and stepped out of the room to find Logan’s name on your contacts. Your finger hovered over the screen, your heart skipping a beat before you touched the name and took the phone to your ear.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice reached you and you felt a smile pulling at your lips before you frowned to yourself. “Uh…accidental call?”

“Intentional, strange as it sounds,” you said. “Are you busy—”

“No!” he answered too fast. “I’m not, at all.”

“Aren’t you on a mission?”

“It can wait, I can—uh, I can come back.”

You repressed your smile.

“No need for that,” you said. “So as it turns out, Laura still doesn’t have any friends.”

“She has Theo.”

“She only has Theo,” you corrected him. “Which is why I called. Is it cool if Laura stays with us this weekend?”

“What?”

“Yeah I mean, she will apparently be alone while Theo is with me, and I don’t want…” you trailed off. “I don’t want her to feel alone. So?”

There was silence on the other line and you looked at the screen to check whether he was still there;

“Logan?”

“I’m here,” he said. “Sure—I mean sure, but will it be okay for you?”

“Yeah I don’t mind,” you said. “I’ll drop her off on Sunday then?”

“I can pick her up if I’m back by then—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I can just drop her off at the institute, no worries.”

A momentary silence fell upon you and you cleared your throat.

“Well okay then,” you said after a beat. “Be careful on your mission, whatever it is.”

“You too.”

You pulled your brows together. “Careful on my mission?”

“No just…be careful in general?” he asked and you bit back a smile.

“Sure,” you said. “See you later I guess.”

With that, you hung up the phone and made your way back to the room to peek your head in.

“Good news, you’re staying with us for the weekend,” you told Laura who gave you a bright smile and Theo jumped in his spot with giddiness. “But I’m going to need one of you to carry Cheeto and Popcorn’s tank for me. We can’t possibly leave them here for the weekend.”

                                                       *

You and Theo had your traditions when it came to the weekend, especially since Theo had started attending Professor Xavier’s school. You would have a picnic and feed the ducks by the lake, go home for dinner and on Saturday morning you’d have breakfast with Jamie and Nik and Julie. Laura was still incredibly shy around strangers, but she seemed to be more comfortable around you now because you didn’t push her at all. She and Theo spent the whole breakfast playing with Nik and Jamie’s cat while you had coffee with Jamie, Julie and Nik in the kitchen.

“It’s a trauma response,” Jamie told you. “Very common. Do you know anything about the lab she was raised in?”

“Not really.”

“That’s so fucked up,” Julie whispered, shaking her head. “I can’t imagine how scared she must have been. For years.”

“Is she seeing a therapist?”

“I doubt it,” you said. “I mean I’m sure they’re trying their hardest at the institute but—”

“She needs an actual therapist,” Nik insisted and turned to Jamie. “Can you make that happen?”

“I can ask around in the hospital,” he said. “We’ll need Logan to sign the papers though, if he’s the only parent she has—”

“Logan would be okay with it,” you said. “I’m not sure about Laura though. She grew up in a terrible lab, I doubt she’d be comfortable around doctors.”

“Home therapy?”

“That sounds like a better idea.”

“Poor baby,” Julie pouted. “I want to go and hug her.”

“I actually think Hayes also knows someone,” Jamie said. “How are things between you by the way?”

“Oh it’s fine.”

“Still taking it slow?”

You sipped your coffee and nodded your head.

“He’s very sweet,” you said. “Which is exactly what I need right now.”

“Did you know you can rent magnet cranes?” Julie asked, making all of you turn to her. “The ones they use for construction sites and stuff?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Julie?”

“Yes?”

“How do you know this information?”

“Google.”

“You googled whether they rent magnet cranes?” you asked her and she shrugged her shoulders.

“Just in case you want to fuck with your ex.”

“Jesus—”

“You do realize that they don’t accept driver’s license for those?” Nik asked while Jamie hid his smile behind his hand. “Technically speaking, you’d need to get a crane operator license.”

Julie waved a hand in the air. “Says who?”

“Says OSHA, Julie!”

“Listen, I could get that license,” Julie said. “I’m good with stick—”

“Your sex life is irrelevant to this conversation.”

“Nik.”

“Just saying.”

“Guys,” you interrupted them while Jamie let out a laugh. “Jules, you’re not getting a crane operator license just to mess with Logan.”

“I need a hobby nowadays.”

“Being a crane operator is not a hobby.”

“Not with that attitude it’s not,” Julie muttered and you shook your head, then heaved a sigh.

“There’s no need for that,” you said. “Seriously. I’m completely over him.”

Jamie raised his brows. “Are you though?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “Yeah, of course. Trust me, I’m so over Logan.”

                                                *

On Sunday morning, you decided to bake some cookies before Theo and Laura woke up. You figured it would be a nice surprise for them and Laura could take them to school when you dropped her off in the afternoon. You had become very used to being silent in the kitchen so that you wouldn’t wake Theo up, but you had forgotten how Logan had mentioned Laura had all his abilities.

Including hearing even the slightest noise.

When Laura stepped into the kitchen in her pajamas, you looked over your shoulder and shot her a small smile.

“Good morning!” you said. “Sorry if I woke you, but I figured you’d want cookies.”

Laura stole a look at the kitchen, still rubbing her eye before her gaze went back to you.

“Would you like to help me?”

She blinked a couple of times, then nodded and made her way to you, still slightly skittish in her steps. You held up the bowl.

“So I’m guessing you like chocolate chip cookies,” you said. “But today we’re also putting rainbow sprinkles on them. I’m going to roll them into balls and you’ll dip them in sprinkles, does that work?”

Laura nodded her head and you rolled a piece of cookie dough in your palm, then gave it to her. She carefully dipped it in sprinkles and looked up at you with curious eyes as if asking you if she did it right, and you gave her a proud smile.

“Oh my God, you didn’t tell me you used to bake!” you told her. “That’s like, chef quality Laura. Surely you did it before?”

A smile lit up her face and she shook her head vigorously, and you gasped.

“You haven’t?” you asked. “And you’re this good already? Oh you have great talent then, it took me so much time to do it right when I was first learning but look at you!”

Laura’s smile widened and she took a step closer to you as if excited to do the next one, so you rolled another piece of dough before putting it into her palm.

“My favorite one is mint chocolate chip cookies,” you told her. “I have been meaning to try pumpkin ones though, have you ever had them?”

Laura shook her head.

“I had them at a café,” you said. “I feel like they would go well with—wait, Laura! We should make hot chocolate as well, do you like hot chocolate?”

Laura thought for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders, biting inside her cheek.

“Have you ever had hot chocolate before?”

She shook her head and you felt your heart clench before you took a deep breath.

“I’m about to blow your mind,” you told her before you washed your hands and grabbed the milk from the fridge, then poured it into a saucepan and put it on the stove. “So technically speaking, it’s not the healthiest thing in the world but do we care?”

A small giggle escaped from her lips before she shook her head.

“Exactly,” you pointed out. “Thank you. Would you like to sit down?”

She shrugged her shoulders before climbing on a chair and you gave her a piece of dough for her to dip in sprinkles.

“So there’s this diner right around the corner,” you told her. “They make great pancakes, and also their hot chocolate is so good, so I actually asked them what they use and bought the same thing. The diner I work at, our hot chocolate didn’t use to be so good until I made them change it as well. Our cook makes a great pie though, I’ll bring you some the next time I drop Theo off. Have you tried apple pie?”

Laura nodded her head.

“It’s so good, isn’t it?” you asked and took the milk off the stove before you poured it into a mug, put the hot chocolate powder in and grabbed the pack of marshmallows. You put a bunch of them into the mug, then put it in front of Laura.

“Ta daa,” you said. “Let me know if you like it or not.”

Laura blinked a couple of times before she took a sip of it, then her eyes snapped up to yours, surprise written all over her face. You tilted your head.

“Good?”

She nodded her head again, taking another huge sip and you turned to roll another piece of cookie dough in your palm before you heard her small voice.

“…Thank you.”

You could feel the smile pulling at your lips and you turned your head to look at her.

“Anytime honey,” you said, your voice soft. “Thank you for helping me with the cookies. You and I will make a great team, hm?”

                                          *

The rest of the weekend went in a breeze. After dropping Laura off at the institute, you and Theo returned home and spent the rest of the night watching Theo’s favorite documentaries with his favorite snacks. On Monday morning you dropped him off at the institute as well and couldn’t help but notice that Logan wasn’t around, but you figured the mission was taking longer than he expected.

When you got home from the diner, you were way too tired to even move so you just heated up the food you took home from the diner, and was dozing on the couch when the sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table snapped you out of your nap and you took a deep breath, then rubbed at your eyes to grab your phone and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey stranger,” Hayes’s voice reached you, making you smile. “Bad timing?”

“No no, it’s not,” you said, clearing your throat. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much, I’m on a short break,” he said. “How was the weekend with Theo and his friend?”

“Oh it was wonderful!” you said. “I baked her cookies and she thanked me! I take that as a good sign.”

“If there are any leftover cookies, I volunteer as tribute.”

You grinned. “Maybe a couple,” you said. “I can bring them tomorrow if you’re going to drop by the diner.”

“This is the best news I’ve received today,” he said, making you giggle.

“Slow day?”

“I wish.”

“Aw I’m sorry,” you said and heaved a sigh. “Are you okay?”

“Trying to be,” he said. “But hey, uh…I wanted to ask you, what is your opinion on charity galas?”

“That I don’t have the money to even look at one as I walk past it.”

He let out a chuckle. “Would you like to?”

“What?”

“So the board of the hospital is planning this gala for the children in need,” he said. “And I have two tickets, so I was hoping maybe you’d be interested.”

You blinked a couple of times and sat up straighter, rubbing at your eyes again.

“Hayes—”

“If it gets boring we can just leave.”

“No, that’s not it,” you said with a shake of your head. “It’s just…I’m not sure if I’m a—a gala person.”

“What is a gala person?”

“Someone who has been to one before, maybe?”

“That’s nonsense,” he said. “Come on. I can’t promise it’ll be fun, but I can promise I will make it fun.”

You thought for a moment, then bit at your nail.

“And you’re sure you want to take me there?”

“What kind of a question is that?” he asked with a laugh. “Of course! And I think Jamie will be there too by the way, if my presence isn’t enough to convince you.”

“Oh is that how you’re going to play this?”

“I never said I was above bribery and guilt tripping.” You could hear his grin. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

“I can turn it up if you’d like,” he teased you. “Come on, you can’t possibly leave your friend without a date at a gala—”

“Fine,” you said, a giggle climbing up your throat. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he said and you opened your mouth to ask when the gala would be but the knock on the door made you turn your head. You sat up straighter in the couch, then rubbed at your eyes.

“Hayes, is it okay if I call you back?”

“Sure thing,” he said and you hung up, then made your way to the door. You looked through the peephole, your heart skipping a beat as you did and opened the door with a confused frown.

“Logan?”

He was still in his superhero uniform, the cowl pushed back behind his head and even though there were no visible wounds on him, he still had blood on him. He was slouching, leaning on his arm which was against the wall and something in his gaze was so haunted that it made your stomach flip. His eyes searched yours frantically as if trying to make sure you were in fact there and he swallowed thickly.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh…sure,” you said, stepping aside so that he could go inside and you closed the door behind him, then made your way to the living room with him following you like a lost puppy.

“You okay?” you asked even though you knew the answer, and he paused for a moment before he nodded quietly.

“I just…” he motioned at you. “Needed to see you.”

“Why?”

He shook his head slightly and you licked your lips, then took a deep breath.

“I think I still have some of your clothes,” you said. “I’d been meaning to return them but uh—if you want to take a shower or anything, you can. All that blood on you has to feel uncomfortable.”

He nodded again, swaying from one foot to other and you offered him a small smile.

“I’ll give you a towel, come on,” you said and walked to the hallway with him on your tail. After grabbing his clothes from the bottom of your closet, you handed them to him with a towel and he made his way into the bathroom while you went back to the living room, incredibly confused by what tonight was turning into.  

When he got out of the shower and made his way to the living room, you were pouring hot water into two cups and you ripped the package of herbal tea bags to put them into cups before walking to the living room as well. His hair was still wet but there was no trace of dried blood on him anymore, and he looked so handsome sitting there that you stared at him for a second, then tried to snap out of it.

“There you go,” you said, putting the cup in front of him then cradled yours with your hand. “It’s sleepy time tea, supposed to calm you down or whatever. Julie recommended it, I’m not sure if it would work on you but…”

“Thanks,” he said curtly, reaching out to take the cup into his hand, his eyes cast on the floor and you thought for a moment.

“So uh…hard mission?”

Logan nodded his head in silence and you cleared your throat.

“Is everyone okay?”

He nodded again and you shifted your weight, leaning back to the table in the middle of the living room before taking a sip of your tea.

“What happened?”

“He—” Logan paused, then shook his head and put the cup back on the small coffee table beside him. “The guy fucked with my head.”

“How?”

That made Logan fall into silence again and you raised your brows, then heaved a sigh.

“You know what Logan, I’m really trying here,” you told him. “I mean I get that you’re from a time where people didn’t believe in therapy or anything, but this whole too tough for emotions macho guy bullshit is getting tiring and—”

“Take me back.”

His voice was so soft, so quiet that it took you by surprise and you pulled your brows together, not even sure that you heard him right.

“What?” you asked and his jaw clenched, his gaze still fixed on the floor.

“Take me back.”

Your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“Logan…”

“I don’t—” he trailed off and shook his head, letting out a breath. “I don’t even have to touch you. I’ll stand outside your door the whole night like a fucking guard dog if you want me to, just…take me back.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through your system and he reached out to gently pull you to himself, wrapping an arm around your waist before he pressed his forehead on your stomach. You raked your fingernails through his hair, softly scratching at his scalp and his arm around you tightened, making you heave a sigh. You knew you were supposed to say something, anything but—

This felt way too peaceful.

“We’re going to have that conversation later, but….” you paused for a moment. “Would you like to stay the night?”

He nodded without lifting his head, your fingers still brushing through his hair and you bit inside your cheek, deep in thought.

Great.

As it turned out, Jamie was right

You were, in fact, not over Logan.

[mynameisjag]

Because I just remembered, as author, I have power to do whatever the hell I want in fanfiction. The only powers in the universe that can stop me is my terrible ADD and terrible sleeping habits.

It’s a sequel to ‘Mistaken for Wolverine's and Wade's possible kid.'

There was a possible feral child running around with claws and a smart mouth.

“We'll take him home, keep him in the bathroom for a little while so Laura can get used to his scent and then slowly introduce them to each other.”

“…they aren’t cats…”

“Right, weasel family, close enough.”

Logan rolled his eyes with grunt, the smell of crushed ice and iron filling his nose, they had been following the kids scent for awhile now, enough for a quick change out of uniform to throw on street clothes.

Wade had thrown on an over large sweater with the hoodie pulled up with a face mask and glasses, Logan himself was dressed in one of his flannels.

“We look like the Unibomber and the Bounty Paper mascot have decided to go on a date at the local market.”

They were close, the tracks had lead them to a more public place, a small outdoor fruit market, but there was no sign of white hair anywhere. Though that didn’t matter if the kid could go invisible.

They were close though…

“So what’s the bet that baby wolvie can change his appearance to fit in?”

“Hmm?”

Wade nudged their shoulders together as he gave a subtle nod over to the next stall, black hair, blue eyes, different clothes…but the smell remained the same…

“Oh, boy, whoever made this designer baby knew what they were doing, still has those sharp claws and cute little fangs you both share. Congratulations to us? What we naming him?”

“Wade.”

“Right, assuming gender, my apologies.”

The man actually snorted in brief amusement, getting what he knew was a wide grin even if it was covered up, he rolled his eyes as the usually red covered merc grabbed his bicep, “He could be a Void escapee, I don’t smell any other human smells on him, let’s stay up wind right now.”

Wade gave the arm he was attached to a small squeeze, “Led the way Mr. Paper Picker Upper.”

They moved slowly through the crowd, eyes on the kid but still keeping a distance incase he picked up the super senses trait.

Lightly clawed hands were picking up apples, sniffing them then placing them down, head would tilt and the ears would twitch, he was still listening for any kind of disturbance. Eyes would focus on a fruit, then dart to the side, still wary and still watching out.

“The face shape and features are the same…need better proof though.”

“Lucky you and the need for the plot to move forward, looks like someone has itchy knuckles and a case of peekaboo.”

Sure enough, one hand was rubbing at the knuckles were a slight sheen glinted in the sunlight before disappearing.

The kid was frowning down at his own hands, distracted enough to not notice Wade casually stroll up behind him, “Baby boy, is that you! You’ve been gone for two years! We thought you were dead!”

Logan sighed tiredly, accepting his fate as he watched his partner throw his arms around the child in a crushing hug, wailing dramatically how they would be so much better parents now, they would support his interest in professional knitting and how dare he leave with a note written in cursive.

Phones were out, people were clapping over the tearful reunion, the poor kid looked shocked to be manhandled over to him by Wade.

“It’s your Daddy, I know he is currently cosplaying a lumberjack, but he’s still the asshole we love.”

Logan could only shake his head, letting out a huff before staring down the kid, “Ready to have that chat?”

Bright blue eyes glared up at him on a level of unimpressed that only teens could reach, “I don’t know, are you ready to go save Goldilocks, I think you better go off and get lost in the woods looking for her.”

“Oh, he is just the Sassiness! He gets it from me, I swear! Just an absolute deee-light!"

[gossippool]

GOD OKAY SO i skimmed through the script specifically to look for discrepancies in the character names because i had an inkling they would do something like that and i found exactly what i wanted. i formally present my findings:

so for wade the distinction is pretty clear cut; when the suit and mask are on, he's referred to as deadpool. when he's out of the suit, or even just when his mask is off, he's wade.

pretty simple even though it IS still interesting--he's literally masking when he's in the suit; he adopts a persona that comes off with the mask. but here's the fun part! LOGAN doesn't wear a mask throughout most of the movie, and yet he is referred to as the wolverine sometimes and logan in others.

firstly, take the bar scene:

he's introduced in the script as LOGAN, but the moment the bartender attacks him and wade questions if he of all people is going to let himself be spoken to this way, he becomes WOLVERINE. a defensive wall. and it switches right back to logan the moment he says "you don't want this"--back to the person he is who's lost everything, who doesn't want to fight anymore, instead of his x-man mantle.

same with the scene in the diner:

he's wolverine until he finds the rubbing alcohol and downs it. then he's logan until wade brings up his position as an x-man and the version of him who died, and then he switches back to being the wolverine.

and one part i find especially intriguing is the scene in logan's mindscape:

"cassandra and LOGAN stand in a gorgeous, ethereal place." "WOLVERINE falls to his knees."

i found it very curious that when he confesses what he did to laura, he's logan all the way through, but he's wolverine when talking to cassandra about the same thing, even though she did have an effect on him.

you could argue that he has his walls up because he's still wary of her, or that it's ironically even harder for him to talk about the past when he's in his own mind, or that he was aware of what was happening outside the whole time and part of him had been playing into it on purpose even through it all. i think all of them make sense in their own way.

there are a few more instances of this, but tldr i just think it's so so fucking cool that they play with his two different identities in the dialogue names to show when his walls are up. it's a fantastic visual representation of which side of him he shows at what time, and it's just great direction too for the actors reading the script.

he's wolverine throughout the entire honda odyssey fight scene and even in the hideout, or when he's reminded of who he thinks he's supposed to be and, consequently, of his failures. he's logan when he tells laura about what he did. when he's stripped down to his most vulnerable, or when he can forget about being the wolverine for a while, when drinking helps him forget--

or when he's back home with wade and has found peace within himself.

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑮𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔

𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. unprotected sex, outdoors sex, tent sex, camping, cheating, smut with small plot and feelings, alcohol consumption, age gap (reader is in her early thirties, logan is 197) . etc.

𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia 🐺

you didn’t know what was problem. the whole way to your camping spot he ignored you. family and friends gathered and decided to camp out for few days. Logan seemed to hate the idea because, Charles of course wanted to go and they were about to leave for the road anyways. Lo was a friend to all of your family members and he was a good man. The longer he spent time with you and your family the longer you wanted him to stay even though you hated his awful drinking. He would drink, mostly alone. Playing with Laura, you left him alone- you wouldn’t get anything out of him. He would simply dismiss your questions– Throwing a ball to Laura she joined the rest of the kids, you observed your friends helping Logan to build the tents. He knew a lot about so many things…

After dinner, and drinks most of your family left to sleep but some of them stayed out by the fire pit roasting marshmallows. Laura and Charles slept too, Logan stayed a little further sitting by a tree watching you all by the fire holding a glass of Jim Bean whiskey. Oh he drank a lot.. your stomach squeezed when you saw him gulp on it. Your grandpa started to tell stories about mutants, and how it was back then.. so many of them passed and that made logan growl, stand up and slowly limp to his tent. You walked after him

“Hey..” you touched his wrist and he momentarily pulled it away.

“Your grandfather doesn’t know how it all ended kid.” He rumbled

“I’m sorry..” you whispered

“It’s all nice that you invited us but me and my family have to get on the road.” He was about to open the tent where Laura and Charles rested, but you stopped him.

“Don’t..” you pleaded, pulling him inside your tent.

“What are you doing?” He asked, but you pushed him to sit on the blankets and pillows switching off the lamp.

“What the fuck-” he was about to argue, when you climbed on his lap straddling him.

“Get the fuck off me kid, you don’t want this.” You ignored his excuses.

“I hate that you drink alone, and I hate how frustrated you are..” you whispered closing the tent, tracing the scars on his shoulders. His large calloused hands gripped your waist trying to push you off him but you grinded your core against his jeans. He growled low in his throat. You hated many things but that was the way your feelings for him grew.

“You deserve to relax.. you can hate me again tomorrow but not now..” you kissed his mouth tenderly until he leaned into the kiss. Your mouths tangled in soft kisses. “You don’t want this..” he breathed looking at you, it was dark.. but you could still see him from the campfire outside. “Lo..” you wrapped your arms around his neck surprisingly he didn’t push you away but leaned to kiss you again. This time he poured his want into it, you moaned softly on his lips opening your mouth for his tongue. His giant palms tracing the small of your back until he fondled your fleshy thighs. “Don’t do this princess.. you got a husband and kids out there..” he mumbled on your lips. “I don’t care.. I married young, I had my kids young.. i hate that you avoid me, hate that you ignore me” you kissed his ear sucking on his earlobe

“It’s for your own good.. I can’t stay kid..” even though you were not that young anymore, he was still three times your age. You didn’t care.. your husband didn’t make you happy anymore and when logan showed up.. your heart called his name. “Please..” you breathed “stop talking..” you kissed his mouth again and that’s all he needed to make you moan. Your heart raced the moment he undid the back of your bra taking the straps down your arms revealing your breasts. Your nipples visible through your top “Still so young..” he praised “bet you need somethin inside of you to make you feel better..” he kissed your forehead giving your breasts a gentle squeeze his thumbs rolling your hardened peaks. “You..” you smiled biting your bottom lip undoing his belt and his jeans pulling out his swollen cock. “you make me so hard, fuckin torture watchin ya with your husband being all happy” you shake your head “M’not.. not happy Lo.. make me happy” you wrapped your hand around his warm length spitting on the tip. He nearly moaned the way you stroked him– “fuck.. fuck..” he hissed all hard and sensitive the way your thumb swirled around the mushroom tip of his cock, sent pleasure straight down his spine and he bucked into your hand. “been too busy.. aches, and pains all over my body princess- didn’t have time to fuck” he breathes out cupping your pussy through your shorts and panties feeling the wet patch there. “You fuckin soaked” lickin his lower lip you nod eagerly still fisting his cock making his breathing hitch in his throat. “You deserve to be taken care of..” you stop stroking his veiny shaft getting rid of your top and bra and your shorts with panties.

Lo lied back.. you climbed on top of him pressing your mouth to his as you hovered your sensitive pussy over his cock. You sank down on him and you both moaned at that feeling– sitting up logan grabbed your waist to bounce you on his cock and your eyes rolled back in your skull. Grabbing his biceps you clung to him, moving back and forth on his cock and god he felt so good stretching you out. The size of his cock along satisfied the hunger in your belly, the bulge in your abdomen appearing every time you moved back and forth taking him all. His breathing got harsher, heaving chest and hands gripping on your thighs signalled you he was loving it. Kissing his shoulder moaning so quietly against it, he buried his face between your breasts to silence his own sounds of lust for you. “fuck.. fuck.. Ughh..” he breathed bouncing you faster on his cock, you cried out sliding your arms around his torso kneeling on either side of his hips straddling him that way so he could bounce you easier fucking you on his succulent cock. “Mmmmmm!!!” You cried holding onto him your swollen clit bumping the base of his length and your cream forming a ring, making him all wet with your essence. The slapping sounds of your skins only made you moan louder: pleasure coiling in your belly approaching your orgasm Lo found your mouth blindly kissing you hard. You took all of his moans and growls into your mouth as your tongues explored each other too. He managed to roll on top of you making you lie beneath him and take his cock that way making you lose your breath as you held his biceps you jolted with every thrust. His large hands manhandled you groping your waist and cock pounding into you faster and faster making you cum so hard that you screamed against his neck and he moaned on your ear finding his orgasm too coating your needy walls with his load. Your greedy pussy getting stuffed with his cock to the brims until the tip nestled against your cervix. “happy?” He breathed and you smiled too fucked out in haze after your lovemaking. “yes..”

-

[darknight3904]

𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 (2017). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦. 𝘌𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘶𝘵 18+

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/ 𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 6.6𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

The Munson's farm was a welcome sight after nearly two days on the road. Despite your protests, Logan insisted he would drive the past 40-something hours. The shitty car Logan had bought couldn't reach above 60 miles an hour and then getting stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic had caused Logan's mood to worsen.

"We're only staying for supper." Logan declared when he pulled the keys from the ignition.

You glanced into the backseat at your companions, who looked even more tired than you were. Your gaze fell onto Charles who gave you a sly wink in return. If he could still use his powers you were sure he'd be in your head saying that Logan was full of shit.

You grumbled in frustration when the potato in your hands slipped and bounced to the floor. You had killed two men a few days ago, and now you were struggling with a potato the size of your fist.

"It's alright, I can do it. I'm sure you're tired." The woman, Kathyrn, said.

"No, let me help. You're giving us a free meal, the least I can do is help cook it." You smile, scooping the fallen vegetable off the tiled floor.

You'd never admit it to her but your lack of potato peeling skill is due to the pain in your hands. The swollen veins and unhealed cut from earlier are driving you up the wall as you peel and slice away. You can tell Kathyrn wants to ask you about them but is keeping it in.

"It's a skin condition." You lie, "It's not contagious though, don't worry you're safe."

She gives you a kind smile, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

"I get it a lot, don't worry about it." You reply

She nods and then moves on to preparing ingredients for what looks like a pie.

"Your home is beautiful." You compliment, unsure what to say. It's been so long since you got to talk to another woman. You don't count the old lady who works at the motel with you, all she talks about is her bunions. Laura doesn't really count either, all you've heard was screams when she sliced those men up days ago. That and her growls when the convenience store's horse ride stopped working. Logan had saved the horse from an early death by gifting a quarter to the little girl, buying her another ride.

"Thank you." Kathryn says, "She's old but we love her."

"It's better than where we live." You say, thinking of the ugly smelting plant you were glad to finally be free of.

Kathryn eventually shoos you away from the potatoes and teaches you how to roll the pie crust out so it doesn't stick to the cutting board, and then she lets you taste the sweetest blueberry you've ever had.

Charles calls your name from his spot on the couch, pointing out Logan who was descending the stairs.

"Oh, Logan." You smile, "Did you trim your beard?"

"No."

He's lying. What an idiot.

Will had insisted Logan take a shower, Logan had resisted but the friendly farmer eventually wore him down, telling Logan he smelled was enough to get him into the bathroom.

"You look nice." Kathryn compliments

Logan gives her a small nod before crossing the room to you.

"What're you cooking?" He asks, leaning against the counter next to you.

His question goes in one ear and out the other. You're focused on the flannel and jeans he must've borrowed. They're a bit too small but you thank the gods above that Will Munson is smaller than Logan because the fabric is certainly hugging him in all the right places. You swore his jeans would split if he even tried to bend down in them. Thank god Charles had convinced Logan to stay. This was officially a glorious day in history. In fact, you're sure if they actually ripped you'd be sent right to heaven.

"She is working on a blueberry pie, my mother's recipe," Kathryn answers for you.

"Don't fuck it up." Logan teases, reaching out to gently tap your hip

His tone makes you bristle and has you breaking out of your trance and kicking at his shin. He lets out a hum of discontent but ignores whatever pain you might've caused him.

"Watch your mouth." You scold him, looking over at Laura, and particularly, Nate sitting on the floor, playing a game of checkers.

Logan scoffs at your command before stealing a blueberry from the bowl and popping it in his mouth.

"There won't be any pie if you eat all the ingredients." You groan, snatching the bowl away.

"Just give me one more," Logan asks reaching for the bowl that you keep from his reach, "I'm a growing boy."

"Go take a nap." You swat at his hand, and he hisses in pain when your hand hits his, "You're not growing, you're like a thousand years old."

"M' not tired." Logan lies, reaching again.

"You're full of shit." You reply

Kathryn lets out a warm laugh, "You two are cute. Bickering like high school sweethearts."

You feel your face warm and Logan shakes his head beside you, clearly flustered as well.

"They basically are." Charles says suddenly, "They used to be students at my school."

"Who had a school?" Will returns from his nightly rounds with his animals.

"My uh Dad was just telling your wife about his school for...special needs kids," Logan says

"They were both his students," Kathryn says

You can tell she likes the picture Charles has painted. Young love blossoming and lasting a lifetime, it was like something out of a movie.

"Logan never paid attention to me while we were there." You smile, "Too hung up a girl named Jean."

Logan glances over at you unsure of what to say or do.

"It's alright though, I've got him now." You assure, hoping you haven't overstepped by mentioning Jean.

Dinner and pie eaten, you find yourself fixing blankets on a small pullout bed the Munsons offered you and Logan. You were glad Logan had relented and agreed to stay. One night wasn't going to kill anyone.

"It's nice here." You say into the darkness, thinking of how wonderful this day had turned out.

"Yeah, it's fine," Logan grumbles, slinging an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him

"This is what life looks like, Logan." You say, hiding your face in his neck

"We'll have a life once we drop Laura in North Dakota." He says

"We really have to take her there?" You ask despite her foul attitude, the little girl was growing on you. If you closed your eyes tight enough you could even see yourself raising her with Logan by your side of course.

"She's not a stay cat. Besides, if we keep her they won't stop coming after us." Logan reasons honestly

"She's your daughter, Logan." You mumble into his skin sadly

"Never asked for a kid." He answered, his gruff voice normally calms you but tonight it upsets you.

"I know, but-"

"No buts. Go to bed." He says

"Gotta go pee." You lie, not wanting to be near him just this second. Didn't he feel anything for Laura?

Logan lets out an angry sound but lets you go, saying something about coming back quickly.

You tiptoe upstairs to the bathroom, trying not to make the steps creak too much. The bathroom door opens and you run right into Kathryn.

"I am so sorry." You say quickly

"It was my fault." She says, "I shouldn't swing the door open so quickly."

You look at her and her face is green with some clay mask that she applied.

"Nice mask."

You mean it as a joke, just a friendly jest since she reminds you of an alien right now.

"Would you like some? It's an overnight mask, it keeps the skin soft."

You back peddle, insisting she doesn't need to do that.

"Oh please, I've only been blessed with a son, as much as I love him it'd be nice to have a girl around here every once in a while."

Before you know it, you're sitting on the closed toilet seat while she paints your face with the cucumber scented stuff.

"Oh, I should've asked if this was going to hurt your skin." Kathryn suddenly pauses.

"My skin?" You ask

She glances down at your arms.

"Oh, right. It's fine. My uh skin will be fine." You affirm

"Does your daughter like doing girlie things with you? I try to take Nate shopping and all he does is whine." Kathryn says, "Always asking me when we can go home or buy some overpriced pretzels."

You're not sure if Laura would like "girlie" things. You suppose the closest you'd gotten to it with her was at the casino and then in the hotel when you detangled her hair. Not that it matters since you'd be dropping her in North Dakota and then running off to buy a stupid boat.

"Honestly, sometimes I can't tell what she's thinking. She's...not my kid." You say, according to Logan, she's not anyone's, "She let me brush her hair the other night though."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just presumed since you and Logan seemed so close." Kathryn says, "It's nice she lets you do things like that for her."

"Logan and I aren't even married." You say, glancing down at your left hand.

It didn't matter, marriage. So many things were more important right now. You did wonder though, would he ever ask? Sure, the two of you had just finally...well you didn't even know what you were to him. A girlfriend? Partner? Lover?"

"Men, they're always wasting time aren't they?" Kathryn sighs

"Tell me about it." You respond, thinking of the past year you spent pining over Logan. Did he feel the same way the whole time? Why did he bother waiting so long?

"You're done." She declares, "Tomorrow morning you can wash it off and your skin will be softer than ever."

You glance in the mirror at your now-covered face. Honestly, you look ridiculous.

"Thank you." You sheepishly say

"No problem." Kathryn smiles

You bid Kathryn goodnight and then float back down the steps to a now-sleeping Logan. As soon as you slip under the covers, he shifts, moving to rest his head on your chest.

"Long bathroom break." He points out

"I fell in." You joke

Logan lets out a short laugh, arms squeezing your sides.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Logan."

You wake up the next morning to Logan's booming voice scaring you.

"What. The fuck."

You look over at him, his eyes are wide and he looks utterly confused.

"What is your problem?" You groan, wanting to go back to bed

"What happened to your face?" Logan asks

"You shouldn't say that to a woman, Logan." You say, "It's a face mask relax."

"You're blue." Logan points out, distaste evident in his voice.

"Good." You grumble, where was his energy coming from? "And actually I'm green. It's cucumber scented."

"You know that alien emoji you sent me a few days ago? That's what you look like right now."

"You're an asshole."

You drag yourself upstairs, this time to go to the bathroom for real, and to wash your face off. Upon your return, you see the asshole er you mean, Logan, has propped himself up on the pillows and has his glasses on, paging through files Laura had in her bag.

"Much better." He says looking at you over the edge of his glasses

"Glad my face appeases you." You roll your eyes, trying to pretend he doesn't look otherworldly with those glasses.

"You don't need that shit. Pretty just the way you are." He says, motioning for you to join him in bed again.

You crawl over to him, resting your back against his chest. Your eyes scan the papers he holds, looking at all the nameless children Transigen has made.

"What're you looking for?" You ask

"Just, reading, bub. Wanna know more about this Transigen shit."

You nod and reach out to trace the scars that litter his left hand. Basking in the silence you let yourself relax on the soft sofa bed with Logan behind you.

"What are we, Logan?" You ask suddenly overcome with the need to know.

"What?" He asks, dropping the file that was opened to Laura's page onto his lap.

"What am I to you? I want to know what you're thinking. Is this some short-lived fling because I don't want to end up crying my eyes out over you if you were never taking it serious to begin with." You asset, sitting up and facing him

Logan sighs, taking in your determined face. He reaches out and takes your hand in his, tracing the ugly veins that mar your skin.

"You used to scare me you know." He says, pulling the glasses off his face.

"What?"

"Your feelings I mean. Back when we first got settled in Mexico and you were cooking and doing shit for me. It scared me, your feelings, my own for you. The idea of committing, it used to scare me."

"So we're some, what? Some casual thing?" You ask as a pit of despair opens in your stomach.

"What? No. Would you let me finish?" Logan asks

"Sorry."

He nods and starts again, his voice full of hesitance.

"But now I...shit I'm not good at this."

"Keep going."

You squeeze his hand in reassurance, hoping he opens his mouth again. It takes a moment but his deep voice fills your ears again.

"I want this, " He motions between the two of you, "You and me. For however long we have left in these shit bodies, I want it."

He pauses for a second scarred hands taking yours. "If you want to label it, we can. Lovers, partners, boyfriend, girlfriend. I don't care. I just..."

Logan meets your eyes and you let out a small laugh full of joy,

"I want you to be mine."

You smile and gently push the files off his lap, replacing them with yourself. Looping your arms around him so they rest on his shoulders, your hands run up the back of his head and thread through his hair. A gentle, chaste kiss is pressed to his lips. The scruff of his beard tickles as you pull away.

"I'm all yours."

"Good." He laughs, leaning in to let his nose brush yours, your eyes flutter shut as you take him all in.

Logan flips you onto your back and you let out a gasp that is entirely too loud considering the early hour. Logan presses another kiss to your lips and then to your forehead.

"Wanna show you how much you mean to me." He rasps, as he begins to pepper gentle kisses down your neck.

His hips grind into yours and you let out a quiet whimper when his fingers slip below the band of your pants.

"No panties?" Logan whispers, his voice teasing.

"It's more comfortable like this." You pout truthfully

"Easier access too."

Your face heats up in embarrassment but you don't have much time to feel ashamed as his thumb begins to circle your clit while his others push into you. Your eyes scrunch shut as your hips begin to arch up off the pull-out bed.

You let out a small gasp when he pulled his fingers out to spit down on them, easing the slight burn that had been there before. You can tell his ego is soaring with each groan and whimper that leaves your lips.

His spare hand comes up and tugs at the bottom of your shirt. You indulge him and pull it off, grinning when he lets out a deep groan. Your eyes shut again when his head dips down to gently suck at one of your breasts, tongue working wonders on the sensitive flesh.

"Open your eyes," Logan commands suddenly.

You let your eyes flutter open to meet his intense gaze.

"So pretty." He whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

It's all so intimate as you whimper his name when your climax begins to build. your hand flies down to where his is, gripping his wrist like you want him to stop.

Logan lets out a low chuckle when you cum. He claims your lips with his own, swallowing the loud moan that threatens to wake the whole house.

"Can I suck you off?" You breathily ask when he finally lets you go

Logan looks over at you, obviously not expecting that to come out of your mouth.

"You don't have to." He says, his eyes falling to your lips.

He was definitely imagining them on his cock. What a pervert your man was.

"C'mon, I've never gone down on anyone before. Let me try with you." You smile

Logan's head snaps back up, "You mean to tell me you've been alive how long and you've never gone down on a guy...or girl?"

You shake your head and he pauses, letting his eyes rake over your still-clothed body.

"How's that even possible?"

"Dunno." You shrug and drop to your knees in front of him.

Your hands come up to his pants and gently tug, silently asking for permission. He shakes his head but lifts his hips up anyway.

Your hips wiggle in excitement when he pulls them down, letting the fabric pool at his ankles. His cock springs up and you marvel at it. It's the first time you're seeing it for real. Unless of course, you count that time you accidently walked in on him masturbating a few months ago. He couldn't look you in the eye for a week after that incident.

"Remember that time I walked in on you?" You breathily ask

Logan's face turns red at the memory. You can tell he doesn't want to be reminded.

"You shouldn't have seen that." He says, his voice full of guilt.

You grin, "I just wish you would've asked me to join you."

And then you're licking your lips and gently kissing the tip of him. You gently let your fingertips brush up him before opening your mouth and spitting.

"Keep going." He orders, his voice is desperate.

You do so happily letting your mouth open up and take him in. Gently sucking at first but slowly becoming a bit rougher as he lets out quiet noises.

"Fuck." Logan gasps from above, "You sure you haven't done this before?"

Your hands stroke what doesn't fit in your mouth and the salty taste of precum is staining your tongue. The slight ache of your jaw is becoming annoying but you ignore it, looking up at Logan whose eyes are shut tight.

"Ah, fuck me," Logan declares as a warm spurt of cum hits the back of your throat. His head lolls back and you groan and try to swallow it all down as he fills your mouth, whimpering when it begins to spill out of your lips.

Logan gently pulls his hips away from your mouth and pulls you up towards him. He looks up at you as he sits on the bed while you stand, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hand comes up to wipe at the cum that's escaped your lips.

"That wasn't your first time doing that." He rasps, his voice heavy with euphoria.

You give him a sly smile, "No, it wasn't."

The sound of creaking steps has the two of you jumping back under the covers. You haven't seen Logan move this fast in ages as he yanks the covers up so you're covered. You feel a laugh bubble up in your chest as he scrambles to tuck himself back into his pants, clearly not interested in traumatizing whoever is walking downstairs.

"Morning, Howletts." Will greets, walking into his kitchen.

"Morn-"

Logan's voice is a bit higher than normal and he coughs a bit.

"Morning."

Guilt wells up in your chest. You and Logan had just defiled this man's poor pull-out sofa bed. It doesn't help that Logan's big hand is resting on your hip, drawing teasing little circles on your skin.

"Good morning." Kathryn greets the two of you as she descends the steps

Luckily she too, goes off to the kitchen, asking her husband about coffee. You're about to demand Logan pass you your shirt which lays forgotten on the floor when much to your horror, Laura walks down the steps.

Your prayers are denied when instead of entering the kitchen, she walks towards you and Logan, sitting on the recliner opposite of you.

Logan looks over at you, unsure of his next move. The obvious one is that he should get up and attend to Charles who is surely awake now but you don't want him just leaving you half-naked. A small groan escapes your lips and you look at Laura who is already staring, probably trying to work out why the covers are up to your chin.

"Laura, can you um, grab that shirt at your feet?"

She glances down before passing it to you. Logan lets out an amused chuckle before gently lifting the blankets to hide you behind them while you redress.

"Keep laughing and I'll cut your dick off." You threaten, pulling the shirt down your body.

"You like it too much to do that."

You send a rough punch into a muscled arm and he drops the blanket.

"Hey, don't hit me." He says, a frown on his pretty face.

You stand up, ignoring him and beckoning Laura to go to the kitchen with you. She walks ahead of you and quick as lightning Logan reaches out and gently slaps your ass. You whirl around to see his face full of boyish amusement, making him look years younger.

"Wasn't me."

Charles somehow manages to convince Logan to spend the day with the Munsons, claiming he's too tired to leave. You can't quite tell if he's faking or not, but before you know it you're watching Logan help Will with the horses you saved on the road yesterday.

"You sure you have to leave tonight? You and Logan still look exhausted." Kathryn points out as the two of you lounge on the front porch in rocking chairs.

You couldn't admit to her that the source of both of your exhaustion was from defiling the sofa bed.

"Ah, well we should make up the lost time. Plus we don't want to overstay our welcome." You sigh

"Nonsense. Tell you what. I'll give you our phone number. If you guys ever pass through here again, we can get together." She smiles

"We're not that cool, you don't want to spend more time with us." You reject

"I happen to think you and your little family are wonderful. Besides even Laura and Nate are getting along, he even let her borrow his iPod." She points over to the two kids, Laura is watching Nate climb a tree, iPod in hand.

"Alright, fine." You relent, not having the heart to tell her you didn't plan on ever driving through here again.

"Great, I'll be right back."

Your eyes scan the peaceful land you're sitting on. The setting sun and the chirps of birds fill your eyes and ears as you look around. Eventually, your eyes fall on Logan who has shed his shirt, leaving him in the white tank top he often wore. Your eyes greedily drink up the exposed skin as his arms flex while he helps lift a hay bale for Will. As disgusting as it might be you want to run your lips across those sweaty biceps, this morning had not been enough to quelch the fire in your stomach. Logan was simply a wet dream come true.

"Does he know you check him out constantly?"

Kathryn's voice has you sputtering, embarrassment flooding your system. She laughs loudly and passes you the paper with her number.

"I saw you last night when he came out in that flannel and jeans, I'm honestly surprised the seams didn't burst, your man is rather muscly." She teases

"Ah yeah, Logan has always been well-built." You say, thinking of how strong he was.

"When we were lying in bed last night, Will asked me how long it'd take for him to look like that. I told him not in a million years."

You laugh freely at that, trying to imagine Will Munson suddenly becoming as muscle-filled as Logan was.

Kathryn lets out a love-sick sigh, "I never want him to change though. Will is perfect in my eyes. Just the man for me you know?

"You two gossiping about me?" Will asks stepping onto the porch

"We sure are. All bad things." You grin, "Like the time you left the toilet seat up."

Will laughs, his warm gaze landing on his wife, "I haven't done that in years."

"Sun's setting. We're leavin' soon Logan declares as he walks over, shaking Will's hand in thanks.

You nod and stand up, shoving Kathryn's phone number into your jeans pocket.

After one more dinner, Kathryn insisted on it, you're packing the truck up, while Logan is arguing with Charles upstairs who has spent the day in bed, reading and eating a package of double stuff Oreos.

"Shit." Kathryn curses over a sink of dishes

"You alright?" You ask

"Fine, There's this water main about a mile or so away. Assholes shut it off every once in a while." She sighs, "Will! Waters off again!"

You watch as Logan tosses his bag into the bed of the truck, glancing over at Will who is already walking off in the direction of the water pipes.

"I'll be back soon, try to get Charles out of that damn bed." He says

"How?" You groan, knowing how strong-willed the old man was

"I don't know. Remind him about young mutants or some shit." Logan sighs, obviously tired, "Just try to get him in his chair at least."

You nod and take a step closer to Logan, hooking your fingers into his belt loops, and pulling him in so his chest brushes yours.

"And make sure Laura doesn't try to steal their kid's candy. I saw her eyeing it up earlier." He says

"Got any more orders for me, Sarge?' You tease

"Sorry. I just...We need to get a move on before they find us again. They're using Caliban to track us." Logan worries, resting his hands on your hips while you place yours on his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

"I know." You say sadly, thinking of your pale friend.

"See you soon, sweetheart," Logan says, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck.

"Logan?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

You can feel the smile that stretches across the weary face you want to wake up next to for the rest of your life. He brings his head back up and the porch light makes his eyes twinkle just the slightest bit.

"I love you too."

A gentle kiss, unlike the ones you've shared before, is pressed to your lips and then he's walking off, the darkness swallowing him whole.

Charles is aggravating, he kicks and swears when you go to grab him. You sigh and collapse onto the floor on the other side of the bed. If he wasn't your father figure, you would've smacked him by now. You loved him but he was testing your patience.

You glance over at Laura who is laying on the floor, her eyes shut. She looks peaceful, like a normal little girl. You want her to experience a real like, one like Nate Munson has, winning track meets and doing math at the kitchen table with her dad. You want to experience it with her, fill the shoes of her nameless mother, and have Logan truly be her father.

"I'm sorry," Charles whispers into the darkness

"For not cooperating? Good. Now let's get you in your chair." You say, resting your head on the side of the bed.

"I remember it. Westchester."

Your heart drops to your feet. You and Logan had agreed never to tell Charles about what happened that day. You both knew it'd break his heart to know what happened.

"I've hurt so many. My family. People I've never even met.

Heavy footsteps thud in the hall and a big shadow casts its way into the room, blocking out the hallway light. Logan. That was fast.

"The past two days have been the best days I've had in a very long time." Charles declares

You want to agree with him, to validate his feelings but your voice dies in your throat, so you listen instead, just like Logan is.

"And I know I don't deserve it."

Charles' voice breaks up mid-sentence and the sound of it has tears stinging your water line. Tears for him, for Laura, for yourself, for your friends who he accidentally killed. For Logan who you knew you'd never have enough time with, your failing bodies would one day claim the love story between the two of you.

"I think I finally understand you, Logan."

The soft shifting of sheets hits your ears. Logan must be trying to pick Charles up.

It's the sound of claws unsheathing that has you confused. What was he doing?

Your stomach drops when you see it. A monster bearing Logan's face and body stands before you. A single hand pressed to Charles' chest is what your eyes focus on. Just barely you can see the adamantium glinting in the low light.

"What the fuck?" You breathe

A loud scream snaps you from your trance. Laura.

The little girl who you've become so fond of is on the imposter's back, her own claws unsheathed, stabbing and tearing at him. You rush to Charles' side, placing your hands over the wound in horror. He mumbles something and tries to push your hands away.

"It's alright, we're gonna keep pressure on it, okay." You say, trying not to panic, "Just look at me. Deep breaths okay?"

Charles nods, his hand coming up to wipe at the blood that's trickling from his mouth. His eyes look behind you to Laura and the monster struggling. You should turn to help her, you should, but you can't leave him. Charles. The man who took you in after your parents threw you out when your mutation manifested. Charles, the man who taught you how to focus it, how to control it, how to use it. Charles, the man who was dying in your arms.

"It's alright, eyes on me, it's just you and me."

The man in the silver wheelchair is odd. Sometimes, you can hear him in your mind. But today, he's speaking out loud as he asks you to focus on the blood that courses through his veins. Instead, you focus on his brown hair that is shiny in the sunlight. It's like he's spent some time styling it before coming to see you in this huge home of his.

"Calm your mind and focus. You can control your powers, they are gifts, I'll help you to see them the way I do."

"It's alright...eyes on me...it's just you and me." You gasp and your voice begins to wobble, you can't do this.

The sound of clinking restraints and the crack of a baseball bat have your mind reeling. You take Charles' hands and press them to his chest, whispering that he has to keep pressure on the wound.

You turn around just in time to watch the sixteen-year-old boy you've come to care for drop to the ground dead. Fresh blood pours like a fountain from the six holes in his chest.

Rage courses hot through your veins, bubbling up like a volcano as the click of a shotgun is heard. Kathryn.

You try to block it all out as you will Nate's to come to you, to serve you.

It doesn't.

You scream in frustration as Kathryn's voice shouts at you to run. heavy footsteps are closing in on her. Laura's loud yelling has your world spinning as you stare at the puddle of blood on the ground. What was happening to you? Were you really this useless? Letting your friends be murdered? Letting a little girl be kidnapped by some clone who shouldn't even exist?

The shotgun goes off, it's followed by a slash and another loud scream from Laura. A thud sounds and you know Kathryn is dead. Butchered like a fucking animal.

You wrap your arms around yourself and scream, you scream for your powers, for your friend and her son, for Logan, your Logan to come save you.

"Calm your mind and focus. You can control your powers, they are gifts, I'll help you to see them the way I do."

As if it's magic, the blood bubbles up and begins to move as you will it to. Your mind burns as you bend it to your will. The discarded baseball bat sits on the ground, and you scoop it up. Charles says something but you miss it, that freak of nature won't be taking Laura anywhere tonight.

You pass Kathryn's corpse. Her eyes are empty as she stares up at the ceiling. Her blood follows you down the steps where the clone is.

Laura lets out a loud shout when she sees you behind her. The clone spins on his heel and he cocks his head to the side, like he's confused you're even here.

You can sense it, in his blood. The x-gene, the one that makes a mutant, is there. It's strong, stronger than yours is, stronger than Logan's. A killing machine stands before you.

Laura is discarded like she's some piece of trash as the clone tosses her across the room and onto the kitchen table. Long claws glint in the light as they slowly extend from his hands. You answer it in good faith, the blood you have from your friends is fashioned into long tendrils and sharp and deadly, and the baseball bat sits in your hands as extra insurance.

"Give me the girl. Give her to me and you can leave."

You try to reason with it before you begin a suicide fight.

No response comes but instead, he charges at you, ready to kill.

Your brain feels like it's ready to burst as you let the blood loose, directing it to impale him, to send him flying. He smacks the table and goes flying through the wall into the front yard, taking Laura with him. In some other world you'd be able to use his own against him, pinning him down and blowing him up would be so much easier. But, you're scared. Scared of what it will to do you.

"Kathryn!"

Will Munson has returned to a dead family.

"What happened? Kathryn?!"

He asks when he enters his destroyed home and sees you, blood tendrils floating next to you. He glances up the steps and you know he sees Kathryn lying there, eyes glazed over, unmoving.

"Nate!"

He's dead too. You don't have the heart to tell him.

"What the fuck did you do?" He asks staring at you, "What did you do to them, freak?!"

You want to tell him it wasn't you but you can't. He takes a step back and your instincts kick in. Your hand flies up and the blood of his wife and son hit him in the chest, sending him flying into the kitchen.

And then, he's back. Logan. Your Logan has returned. He races up to you and his hands cup your face but he doesn't say anything. You whisper for him to go get Charles and he listens. Telling you to stay put. Your skin burns as much as your brain does when he leaves you.

Laura is screaming again as you walk after her ignoring Logan's words. The clone is fighting what looks like a bunch of men in cowboy hats. An expensive truck's headlights illuminate the bloody scene.

"There's another!" A voice yells when one man sees you

He loses his head to adamantium claws while trying to run away.

You catch a glimpse of a man in a white lab coat. He's yelling something that your throbbing mind can't process as you set your powers back on this clone. Blood, sharp as glass skewer the imposter as you pin him to the ground, others wrap around his feet, as he is spread starfish on the ground.

Your mind is breaking down, you can feel it. Your senses are dialed up, you can practically taste the blood of the fresh corpses beside you. A loud shout breaks the trance and you whirl around to see Will pointing a shotgun at you.

He fires it.

You turn your head and block the shell with a wall of blood. Your grip weakens on the clone, if this goes on too long, it'll escape.

He fires again.

Logan yells your name, he is carrying Charles out of the house.

"Marvelous, marvelous." The man in the lab coat is speaking to you.

Your mind is going numb, you have to finish this.

"You, my dear are simply extraordinary! Oh the power in your genetics, the future of mutants!"

The van behind him explodes and you lose your control of the blood. You're sent flying to the ground, and blood splatters down, falling like rain as it covers you in its metallic scent. The scent of your singed hair burns your nose. The lab coat man has been knocked out by debris.

Will Munson's shotgun cocks again, yet it never fires.

The clone has unknowingly saved your life as he sends three clean claws into Will's belly before letting him fall to the ground. You feel guilt when you realize you're relieved that Will Munson is gone, unable to gun you down.

Logan is calling your name and when the imposter lifts you up from the ground you see him running as fast as he can to you with his limp that never goes away.

You turn to stare this animal in the eyes. Its heart is beating rapidly, pumping blood to his body so he can kill all these people, so he can kill you. The fear from earlier goes away, you know you can do this. The blood is there, it's just a matter of focusing.

And then, it's rearranging itself, arranging itself at your command.

Claws dig into your belly and a white-hot pain follows as they're removed. It lets out a grunt, the first noise you've heard from it all night as its nose begins to bleed. You're going to rip this thing in half and send it back to hell. Maybe you'll see it there.

You feel it, your brain collapsing in on itself as you let out a yell, a last-ditch effort at getting your powers to truly be your own again.

The ground is cold and hard as you land on it with a thud and a splash of blood explodes across the grass. The monster is sent flying backward into the tractor behind it, impaling it on metal spikes.

Pride surges through your system when you see its head, a chunk of it is missing and it's no longer moving. Faintly you're pretty sure its heart is still beating, what matters to you though is that Laura is safe. Whatever that thing was, it wouldn't be moving for a while.

Your mind is blank as you lay in the grass. Vaguely you can feel the blood you're drenched in, it's ruined your clothes, the casino sweatshirt Logan bought for you to hide behind is fucked, no washer in the world could get it clean again.

And then he's there, above you, scooping you up, holding you to his chest. You can feel his heart beating as he says your name, telling you it's okay, that you're okay.

You want to reply but your mind can't formulate any words, they come out as incoherent gasps as Logan holds you tightly. He holds you and gently rocks back and forth. You feel warm tears trickle from his eyes down your neck as he presses a kiss to your skin.

He shifts again and his forehead presses to yours and his eyes meet yours. His hand gently cradles your face, brushing your hair from your eyes and wiping at the blood that's splattered on your face.

"My pretty girl,"

His voice is nothing but a whisper in the wind as his salty tears stain your face.

"I'm so sorry."

His words, filled with regret seep into your skin like they're secrets just for the two of you to know. Your bleeding brain is a mushy mess as you try to get it to cooperate one more time.

"Logan,"

Your voice is so quiet you swear he didn't hear it. But, he does, he always hears you when you speak.

"I want..."

"I want...to meet you again...to live a life with you"

Perhaps thats the wrong thing to say because he's even more upset now. Bushy brows knitted together in sadness, you're sure you even see his lower lip tremble a bit.

"We will, we'll meet again. You're tangled in my soul now, I'll give you a life, a real one. I promise."

You swallow thickly, trying to get your tongue to say them, your dying words,

I love you.

They die on your tongue and you want to cry out in frustration. Instead, you think them. You think them. You think of the many nights you spent beside Logan at the smelting plant watching a movie on the old box TV he found for you, you think of how his lips felt against yours just this morning, legs tangled in the sheets brushing his. You think of how he looked when you first met him, fresh-faced, smoking that stupid cigar of his.

Logan's thumb brushes the tears that leave your eyes and you sigh. His skin was warm in contrast to yours and it felt like stars were dancing across your skin as your eyes raced to memorize every inch of his face. You wanted to keep him as your own forever.

You'd see him again one day, in another life perhaps.

After all, he promised.

But wait! There's more... Logan and Reader's story continues in The Other Life

Tags:

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@squishyfruitloop @lulalovez @mrs-ephemeral

[peony-always]

Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat. 

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks. 

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while. 

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment. 

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed. 

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again. 

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it. 

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary. 

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month. 

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged.  “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace. 

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air. 

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

“Get in, Logan,” you said quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”

[x-ghostslovie-x]

I Love You In Every Universe

Logan Howlett x Fem Reader

This is based on a song called Immortal by Reinaeiry and this quote from WandaVision "We've said goodbye before, so it stands to reason." "We'll say hello again."

Contains: angst, character death but you come back at the end, fluff at the end 🩷

Logan never thought he would actually see you again. Back in his world, you had died in his arms. Even as you were bleeding out, you were so certain that he would see you again. It would be a different you, in a different world, in a different universe, but you were so full of hope that the universe would bring you back together.

Logan didn't really believe that would ever happen but held onto the hope for you as you lay dying in his arms. He held you as close as possible with his face in your neck, taking deep breaths of your scent.

With the little effort you had, you slowly raised your hand, gently placing it on Logan's cheeks. Your lover instantly leaned into it. "Hey, Lo, it's gonna be ok. I promise."

"Nothing is ok without you bub"

"It will be, besides." Pressing your forehead against his, "we've said goodbye before, so it stands to reason."

"We'll say hello again."

"I love you Logan. In every universe I love you. You just need to find me again." You let out a soft sob as two single tear drops fell down your face. "We can be together again. And hey, who knows we might finally be able to settle down, get married, maybe have some kids."

A smile spreads across Logan's tear stained face "that sounds perfect darlin"

Logan presses his lips to your forehead as you let out your final breath. Logan's body is racked with sobs as he sits there holding onto your lifeless body for what felt like an eternity.

Logan lost the X-Men that day as well. He was too busy getting shit faced at the bar trying to numb the pain that your death has caused. He had truly lost everything. That was until Wade found him, and they saved the universe.

Now Logan is sitting around a table in Wade's apartment surrounded by people with Mary Puppins on his lap and Laura sitting next to him. He can see why this world's Logan cared about her so much. He couldn't help but wonder if there was a you in this world and if you were still alive.

Logan was snapped out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. Wade jumped up, clapping his hands excitingly, exclaiming that she was finally here. Wade flung open the door, and a very familiar smell that Logan would recognise anywhere suddenly filled his nose. As soon as Wade had stepped aside, he saw you standing there alive with the most carefree expression he had ever seen on you. He could swear his heart skipped a beat.

Wade had practically dragged you over to introduce you to him. "So this grumpy honey badger over here is"

"Logan." you spoke with a soft smile before Wade could. "Hi."

"Hey, Y/N." Logan spoke your name for the first time in years.

Meanwhile, Wade was going to explode with the amount of questions he had about this particular situation.

[tremendouscreationperson]

Logan x Reader pt.5

The long awaited reunion

This isn't the last one don't worry

<< Part 4 Part 6 >> Masterlist

You were the last to exit and as though rehearsed your family parted to the left and right revealing him.

Logan was standing next to Wade with a sincere grin. His eyebrows had risen and he let out a shaky breath. It took less than two steps for him to be in your space and scooping you up. Crushing you in a bear hug, one hand caressed your spine, whilst the other tangled in your hair.

“You came.” He breathed into your ear, taking a deep breath.

“Of course, I missed you.” You whispered back, tugging him closer.

Logan pulled back slightly to observe your face, hand sliding down to cup your cheek. He didn't care about his ‘bad boy/couldn't care less’ reputation anymore. He had lost you twice! He loved you and he needed the world to know. “It took a full month to convince the TVA to bring you back and B-15 told us she'd give you the option of staying, I was terrified I'd never see you again.”

The pain behind his eyes was heartbreaking.

“It's okay.” Your hands on his back rubbed small circles, trying to calm him. “I'm here.”

“I love you.” He declared.

And in that moment it didn't matter that he wasn't your first love because you knew he'd be the last. He would be there for you and you'd be there in turn. “I love you, too.”

Logan bent his neck and kissed you. It was easy, slow. He didn't need to rush. He had you now. You were back in his arms.

“Wooooo-hooooo!” Wade cheered. “Gosh guys I'm so emotional I need some tissues… and some lotion… and a gag.”

Logan growled which went straight to your abdomen. Shit. That was hot. He was hot. Fuck you were done for.

El shoved Wade but was chuckling.

“Glad to see you.” You spoke over Logan's shoulder.

“So am I, I tell ya, the moping this guy has done.” He clapped Logan's back. “I'm sure the Cavillrine wouldn't have been such a pussy.”

“The who?” You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion but let Wade babble on about ‘Superman’ and ‘oh my god him in the Witcher?!’.

As Wade yapped he led you all out of illuminati headquarters. He told you that the apartment block which had been brought for you was one that he and Logan currently resided in. He then went on to tell you about his blind roommate and that they were going to throw you a housewarming party at the weekend.

The apartments weren't far, but Wade had booked a - far too small - taxi for you. Resulting in six suited up heroes standing on the sidewalk just staring blankly at him.

“Dopinder, I swear on Blanche, Dorothy, Sophia and Rose, I will beat you.” He threatened the man, taking his mask off to give an unsettling amount of eye contact. “I told you there would be seven!”

“Mr Pool, you know the type of Taxi I drive.” Dopinder argued back. “I can do two trips but it won't be cheap.”

“You sexy little bastard.” Wade's eyes narrowed.

“It’s okay.” Logan interrupted another round of flattering insults. “We can walk back.” He gestured to you and himself.

“Uh, peanut. I may still be at a third grade reading level but seven minus two is five.” Wade used his fingers animatedly to show the maths. “We won't all fit!”

“I can... go with them.” Laura suggested. She looked a little awkward about the idea but she stood by it.

“Aww! Y/N and her Wolverines!”

You frowned. “Why do you pronounce my name like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

The man baffled you but you shook your head letting it go. The others piled into the small vehicle and waved at you as they pulled away from the curb.

“How long’s the walk?” You asked, genuinely curious. You were in New York, that was obvious, the sun beat down on midday traffic, there was the constant buzz of life and you felt at ease. This was familiar in a way which had long been forgotten.

“Give or take twenty minutes.”

You nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. Logan took hold of your hand and pulled you along.

“So, Laura this is New York.” You smiled at her, her eyes were darting around taking everything in.

“It's busy.” She commented.

You chuckled. “This is fairly quiet, or at least for my world it is.”

Laura took the information in, decowling herself. You smiled wider and reached out for her hand.

“Logan, what's it been like living here?”

“I won't say exactly the same.” He scratched his head. “But it isn't really different. The News is on at 4 o’clock rather than 5. For me it's warmer.” For you and Laura it was cooler, years of that boiling wasteland had acclimatised you both. “I like the milkshakes from Joey's.”

“Have you ever had a milkshake?” You all stopped at a crossing. Laura frowned at the lights and you explained what was happening, you also told her the gesture to thank the cars. “Laura, baby, have you had a milkshake?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so.”

“Well, we'll have to pick some up.” You declared.

The walk was pleasant. Your Wolverines were awkward around each other and for some reason that was the cutest thing. They both were at ease with you though so you operated as their interpreter.

Every now and then you stopped to admire a building or a tree or even just look in a shop window, mostly for you but it was also for Laura. You knew she was born in a different time to you. She wasn't used to this level of civilization. She had told you once, when she had snuck into your room after a particularly bad nightmare, that she was raised in a facility. That a nurse had broken her out and handed her off to Logan. That he hadn't been too kind but Charles was. That they spent time on the road and he had died for her. That her and others had to escape to EDEN. But EDEN wasn't all it was cracked up to be, they were safe but they were poor. They were needy and eventually they were transported to the Void.

She was mesmerised by a little sausage dog. You asked the elderly lady if she could pet it and the woman eagerly agreed.

Laura was cautious but after watching you stroke the little fella she did. A surprised grin formed. “He's cute.”

“He's called Harold.” The lady told you as Harold flopped onto his back. “After my late husband.”

“That's very sweet.” You rubbed his belly.

“Why are you lot dressed like that?” She wondered. "You aren't heroes are you?"

Images of backlash and abuse bombarded your mind. Would this lady suddenly hate you like others had? Wait, were you still a second class citizen because you were a mutant? No. That couldn't be true. Not when you had Captain America and Ghost Rider and Venom. How could people love them but hate mutants? “We're going to a fancy dress party.” The excuse tumbled from your mouth. Two sets of wide eyes glanced at you and then each other.

“Well, I'm sure you'll win.” She tutted at Harold. “Come on, fat boy, let's get a move on.”

Harold didn't seem like he wanted to but did eventually follow her, plodding away.

“You don't have to be worried.” Logan reassured you as you rose from the crouched position. “Being a Mutant isn't a bad thing here.”

“It isn't?”

“No. Not here.”

“So you tell me it's warmer but not that being a Mutant is okay?”

He didn't have an answer for that. He had been in as much shock as you that it was alright but he had settled in remarkably easy. He wasn't turned away from bars or eyed suspiciously in the street and he loved it.

“What's a fancy dress party?” Laura questioned.

“It's a party where people dress up as characters or animals or things.”

“And a party is when people are together and eat?”

“Yeah, eat, drink, have fun.” You resumed the journey.

“Okay.” She watched a pigeon fly overhead. “And Wade is having a party for us?”

“Yeah.” Logan grumbled. “His parties are a bit weird but his friends are okay.”

~~

The apartment was nice. There was a safety deposit box which contained your keys, you and Laura had separate homes. You all did. That was daunting. No one else lived in the building except for you seven (plus Blind Al and a pretty ugly dog) so, once you'd exited the elevator, it didn't surprise you at all to find each person's front doors were open.

You followed the sound of Wade nattering on and found everyone crowding a kitchen counter. This must be Wade's house as it was lived in. It wasn't blank and pristine like the others were. Wade stood with the dog - Mary Puppins - cradled in his arms, next to Blind Al. Gambit was to her left, leaning against the counter. El and Blade's backs were facing you.

“And then Blind Al and I found a buttload of- oh hey!” Blind Al’s face swivelled over in your direction. “Al, sweetheart, you know our beefcake Logan, well, there's a mini version of him with boobs and the one he's been a little bitch about.”

“Ah, Y/N.” She gave you an unenthusiastic wave. “Wish I was deaf and blind the way he was going on. Real pussy drier.”

You hadn't expected her to be as crude as Wade but then you really thought about it. If these two lived together yeah they were bound to be alike. They would rub off on each other. That thought amused you because you could literally imagine Wade trying his luck.

“Yes.” El had caught the look on your face as Al spoke, she tried to steer the subject. “They've been telling us about their relationship and how they met.”

“I li’ ‘em. Both a’ bad a’ ‘ch other.” Gambit placed an arm around Al's shoulders. “I li’ her t’ best.”

“Get off my roommate you perve.” Deadpool spoke with the dogs tongue in his mouth, then he addressed you three. “Basically explaining the first two movies. My relationship with Vanessa and how that's going.”

Blade whistled in a way that sounded like it descented. “Poorly.”

“Vanessa?” You glanced around at each member in the room. “Aren't you with Spiderman?”

“Ah.” He placed the dog on the counter. “So movieverse Deadpool has to be straight presenting or the dude bros will bomb it. I can be as gay as I want if I have a girlfriend.”

You filed that into the "this makes no sense to you but you didn't have the energy to argue with him" drawer. In your universe Deadpool had a crush on Spidey and it was plain, to anyone that looked, they liked each other.

“So, the living situation…” You stroked the dog's head when it twaddled up to you. “How are we feeling?”

“It's ‘lotta space.” Gambit voiced your own opinion.

“It'll be nice to have privacy but I won't lock my door.” Blade's eyes had scanned each of your faces and landed on Wade's. “If you're knocking it's locked.”

“I have my own key.” Laura commented. “I've never been alone.”

“How many rooms are they?” You asked the group.

“One bedroom, one bathroom.” El supplied.

That wasn't what you wanted to hear. You and Laura could've shared if there were separate rooms. “If you're scared we can bunk together.”

Wade burst out in maniacal giggles. He had to clutch his stomach to calm himself. “I-I’m so-sorry. Did-did you see the- the way Peanuts face-” He took a deep breath. “Oh, that's good shit. He realised there'd be no sex tonight. Damn, that was hilarious." He wiped a nonexistent tear from his eye.

Blind Al smacked his head with surprising accuracy. “Can I bunk with one of you?”

~~

The TV was on, lowly creating background noise as Laura channel surfed. She was wearing one of the outfits provided. It was a pair of grey joggers and a vest top. She had taken the matching hoodie off a while ago.

“So this is what people do?” She called from the couch as you made a quick pasta dish. It wasn't difficult to boil a pot and throw some pesto and cheese at it but it felt so foreign to be making this, not to be cracking open a tin of spam or fruit salad. To be actually making food.

“Uh huh,” You added salt to the boiling water. “It's like a pretty big pastime.”

She huffed and flicked over to a voice you never thought you'd hear again. Judge Judy. You padded over, barefoot, to the front room. You were wearing a pair of black joggers and a white tee, your feet were cold. “My mom and I used to watch this.”

“She's loud.” Laura looked up at you.

“Yeah, she always put them in their place, though.” You crossed your arms. “My nan, as well. I'd come home and my mom would be passed out watching this. You could just switch it on and she'd fall asleep instantly.” You extenuated the last word with a snap of your fingers.

“What was her name?” Laura's eyes were big.

You told her your mother's name and then your nans. “I don't know if they'd even be alive in this universe.”

“How would we- check?” Laura jumped as Judy yelled ‘baloney’.

“I dunno, I suppose Facebook?” Laura made a face and you waved her off, you'd explain social media at a later date. “We'll have to get phones tomorrow. Start buying clothes as well, get you into music and TV and all the usual teenage shit.”

The door opened and Logan kicked it shut. “I'm back.” He juggled the plastic bags.

“Hi.” You greeted him, helping with the bags.

“We didn't know when you were arriving.” He blushed. You were both standing in ‘your room’, you had begun to pack away your clothes. “I'm sorry, I have some pasta at mine, I can run down the road and get sauce and cheese and other things.”

“Okay, that would be really helpful.” You took your gloves off and chucked them on top of the duvet. “Thank you. Don't get too many things, though, 'cause I'll have to do a big shop tomorrow.”

Logan’s hand twitched to catch yours. No. He needed to leave, he couldn't get distracted. Despite the fact that he really wanted to get distracted with you. No. He couldn't. Laura was currently in the shower, using the imperishable goods that had been provided and he didn't know how long you two would be alone.

“I got a few basics.” Placing the bags on your counter. The layout of your apartment was the same as Wade's, as everyone's, but the colour scheme was slightly different. Your counter was oak, where Wade's was marble.

“A few.” You mocked him watching him unload.

There was the pesto and cheese along with bread, butter, eggs, bacon, bottles of water, two fizzy drinks, chocolate bars, cereal, a multi bag of chips, cookies, all the feminine products in the store and fuzzy socks.

"You knew my feet were cold." Your fingers grazed the socks.

He shrugged, a red tint on his cheeks. "I saw you didn't have many socks and they were in the store so I thought..." He trailed off.

You kissed his cheek and thanked him. He caught your elbow and captured your lips. His lips were soft and delicate, taking you in. Logan pulled back, reluctantly, and placed a final kiss to your temple.

You let your eyes fly to Laura she was pointedly watching Judy, to give you some privacy.

“Laura look!” You picked up the cereal, it was the same brand she favoured in the Void. She looked over and almost split her face with a grin. Laura stood and bounced over to you both. She made a move to open the cereal and you stopped her. “No, missy. Tomorrow morning you can have it how it's meant to be eaten but tonight we have pesto pasta. We have to try and work out what you like so we can buy more food.”

“It's-" Her brows pulled. "We can just buy food.” She looked down. “We don't have to…” She then turned her head away, upset. “Why am I sad?”

“Oh baby.” You rounded the counter and pulled her in. She hugged you tight and sniffled.

“You'll be okay, kid.” Logan spoke. You looked up at him and extended an arm, he took your hand and you eased him into the hug. Logan kissed your forehead and stroked her hair.

“I love you both.” You leaned fully into them, into your man and your child. They were all yours and that was brilliant.

“I love you.”

“Love you, more.” They both replied at the same time.

A hissing noise interrupted the moment and you cursed, scrambling to the pot that boiled over. You turned the oven down and stirred the pasta.

“Logan, can you show Laura where everything goes?” You asked over your shoulder. “We can open both of the drinks, see what Laura likes best?”

He agreed and eased himself into the role of ‘father’ so easily. It suited him so well. He was born to care, either as a dad or a teacher or a friend.

~~

When you previously shared a bed, Laura and you always slept facing each other and tonight was no different. You both went to each individual door and bid goodnight to your family - Logan telling you three times that he was only next door - then came back and settled down.

She held your hand and was able to sleep almost immediately. It was the softness of the blankets, the comfortable pillow, the fresh sheets, the glass of warm milk you'd made for her, the fact that she was full for the first time in years.

She was content.

You, however, were the opposite.

It was too soft, too comfy, too good to be true. You were waiting for the rug to be pulled from under your feet, waiting for someone to tell you this wasn't real. Cassandra had created this as a cruel illusion, you were really back in the Void with her.

Taking meticulous care, you extracted yourself from the bed, she deserved a good night's sleep. She deserved so much more.

You waddled to the fire escape and opened the window. The night was beautiful. Thousands of multicoloured lights shone, illuminating the roads. There was still life on the streets, still takeaways open and people milling about. You wouldn't have had a sight so gorgeous a week ago. It was cockroaches and murderers.

“Hey.” Logan spoke, causing you to jump. He was sitting on the steps to your left, smoking a cigar. He wore pyjama bottoms and nothing else. Fuck me. He was fucking ripped. You would never get used to how perfect his body was.

“Hi.” You climbed through, sitting back on the window sill, crossing your legs for completely innocent reasons.

“Can't sleep?”

You shook your head. “You?”

“I figured you'd find it hard to sleep.” He took another puff.

“What, so you've been out here all night?” You joked and except for the quirk of a brow, his face didn't move an inch, he just kept looking at you as you realised, “you have been.”

“I wanted to be here if you needed me.” He exhaled, smoke swirling towards the sky.

You stood from the sill and were in front of him in seconds, standing between his knees, hands cupping his cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you you're really cute?”

Logan rolled his eyes but smirked at you. “You'd be the first.”

“You are.” You vowed and bent your head.

This was the first time you initiated a kiss. You had told him to kiss you in the Void and you had kissed him back every other time, and you'd kissed his cheek but this was the first time you controlled an actual kiss.

You were tempted to heat it up but a small voice in the back of your head told you to take it slow. You knew you loved Logan and he loved you but you didn't know him. This version was different. You didn't actually know this man. Imagine if he was allergic to prawns or something?

You pulled away and found he chased after you, releasing a shaky breath against your lips.

“Do you want to come shopping with us tomorrow?” You whispered, lips touching his. His hands had found purchase at your thighs and he gave them a frustratingly good squeeze.

Licking his lips just so his tongue grazed yours. “Of course.” He pecked you. “Anything.”

Part 6

@geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @melissa-ashe @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @ravenmedows @vulgarfuckinvirgo77

[sh4-rkz]

Blind al adores Logan and Laura, like, Logan’s her son in law who’s wayyy too good for her son, and Laura is her precious stabby grand baby

She loves Logan cause he calls her Althea and is nice, he buys all the food (with wades money) and he always remembers what everyone likes so she doesn’t have to keep reminding wade to buy the sugar free stuff because that’s what she eats

She loves Laura because she convinced her to get a guide dog, Laura names him rats he’s a Saint Bernard but he’s amazing and now she doesn’t have to spend every day in the apartment without doing anything

Blind al loves them (and wade but he’s still an annoying bitch)

[spacelatinoluvr]

apartment 315 (part 2) 18+

summary: after living in your apartment for a few months, you and logan start to feel more and more like distant strangers across the hall. that’s until you take another guy home, and logan doesn’t know how to act.   word count: 4.0k pairing: modern!Logan Howlett x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut, jealousy, not so nice name calling tags: fighting, jealous!Logan, modern au, top!Logan, fighting, jealous!Logan, public sex, fingering, dirty talk, dom!Logan, teasing, edging, enemies-ish to lovers, soft logan and laura, happy ending part 1

Logan always chose the cheapest and shittiest beer. The beer that would not have an effect on him. A beer that was barely worth anything. You noticed that Logan would appear in your bar more frequently during your shifts. As if he was watching over you. Like a guardian angel of some sort. It was comforting knowing he was there. 

But one particular Friday night, you were not there. 

Instead, you had been put on a blind date set-up by your friend Darcy. One of her co-workers was apparently your type. As if you had a type. You had just gotten divorced almost a year ago. You didn't want to agree, you were hesitant at first, but Darcy insisted it was just to get you out of your humble abode. And Logan didn't know why you weren't there. And her certainly would not have guessed you were on a date with someone else.

“Please?” Darcy was practically begging over the phone. It was now the beginning of December, and the snow still had not appeared. You were walking up the stairs to your apartment, slightly out of breath. The elevator had still not been fixed, and you had to walk up three flights of stairs everyday. The phone was on your shoulder, tucked under your ear and you reached the third floor beginning to search for your keys in your purse. You stopped looking to answer Darcy. 

“Fine…” Darcy squeaked over the phone and you could imagine her doing a dance at that moment. Your brain flashed back to Logan briefly, remembering what you said to him in the alley. You tried to forget it but every time you saw him at the bar, your heart beat a little faster. 

You had not uttered a word about what had happened between the two of you. To Lee or to Darcy. Not a single soul knew. Truly what you had said to him. You were embarrassed. And you really needed an excuse for an expensive glass of wine. You thought maybe you had gotten to Logan. Maybe he'd finally make a move. Maybe the tension would disappear. But he still remained that same distant neighbor. You still felt like strangers. 

“I'll call you later tonight, Darcy. Lee wanted to binge watch some show-”

You both said your goodbyes before you hung up the phone with a large sigh, leaning your forehead against the door. You really did not want to go on a double date. A blind date at that. But you really needed to leave your home. You needed a break. You had just gotten off an awful shift at the bar, hoping something would- 

“You okay?” You turned around sharply to find Logan edging his way up the stairs, staring at you with concern, his eyebrows slightly bunched together. You nodded, putting your fingers between your forehead and closing your eyes. 

“I just really need a drink,” You said, opening your eyes to find Logan still staring at you. You bit your lip, thinking for a moment. Only for a second before the words came tumbling out of your mouth. “Do you wanna come inside?” An open invitation. And Logan accepted. 

You hurriedly rushed to clean off your kitchen counter of dirty dishes and magazines, muttering under your breath. Logan had his hands in his jacket pockets, looking around your apartment. He took note of how there was an unopened box in the back of the living room. It was fairly clean but a little messy in some parts. You moved around the kitchen before you pulled out two bottles of beer from your fridge. 

“Uh, go ahead and sit on the couch.” You pointed with your head at the couch at the end of the apartment and Logan silently moved towards it. His eye caught on that unopened box again as he sat down. You handed him the beer, hoping he wouldn't bring it up. But to your dismay, he did. 

“What’s in the box?” You smirked, taking a long swig from the beer, the slick feeling of its coolness running down your throat. 

“Body parts,” You answered, and Logan smiled, his eyes narrowing at you. “You're a boxer, right?” Logan paused.

“Was. I was a boxer.”

“Who says you aren't anymore?”

“I do.”

“Well I say you still are one. Look at your hands. What makes you think you aren't one?”

“What's really in the box?”

“Touche.” You stood after a moment, letting out a huff. You turned around grabbing the small box, setting it on the table in front of the couch. The box’s writing was now on display reading “Shit asshole didn't want!”. You slowly opened the box, peering inside to find only three things: a wedding ring, a photo album and an oversized t-shirt. You took the three things out of the box, setting them down next to it. It was quiet again, and Logan took a long sip from his beer before speaking up. 

“There’s a boxing ring downtown…I used to make money off of it. Think of it as gambling. I was the boxer. The Wolverine. It felt illegal even though it wasn’t. And then one night…I lost, breaking my shoulder blade. I’ve been trying to get back into it but with Laura around- it’s difficult.” He took another long swig and moved towards the fireplace on the other end of the room, turning it on before moving to sit back next to Logan, closer than before. 

“I was going to be a professional dancer. A ballerina. It was my first love really. And then I met…” You paused, staring at the fire, anger rising within you for a moment. You calmed yourself, breathing in a deep breath, turning towards Logan. “His name was Ben. He didn’t want me to be a dancer so… I quit. I became some lousy bartender down the street from our cheap apartment-“ 

“You’re not lousy.” You smiled, a crinkle in your eye. 

“Thanks but…I didn’t follow my dream. I followed a man. That’s what made me lousy. Anyway!” You stood abruptly, picking up the things from outside the box and standing next to the fire. 

“This was my favorite oversized t-shirt…” You stood over the flames, throwing it in the fire, watching the remnants of the cotton turn to soot and ash. You grabbed the photo album next flipping through the empty pages, landing on a photo of you and Ben. 

“He didn't want this photo because it was the only one that had just the two of us…” You ripped it out of the album before tearing it to pieces and throwing it in the fire along with the shirt. You watched them burn for a moment, before grabbing the wedding ring, the one you had given him. 

“And this was his wedding ring…it wasn't cheap but…” And you threw the ring in the fire, watching all of your lost memories with your ex-husband fade along with those three reminders. You turned around, clearing your throat and Logan was staring at you just like he was at the halloween party. Just like he was behind the alley.

“Whatever he did…he was a stupid fuck.” Logan had a different sound in his voice when he said that, it was deeper than when he normally spoke. You hummed, sitting back down next to him.

“He was a really stupid fuck.” You laughed, leaning to pick up your beer. You took a long swig, feeling Logan watching you from the corner of your eye. You turned towards him, fully facing him as you crossed your legs on the couch. 

“Where’s Laura tonight?” You asked, taking another sip from your beer, it now begins to slowly empty itself. Logan grimaced slightly, shaking his head. 

“She's with Mrs. Baker…she wanted to knit with Laura.” He sounded upset when he said it and all you could do was let out a laugh, covering your mouth quickly when it escaped you. 

“Laura knitting? Wow, I can imagine her having so much fun right now.” You said sarcastically, laughing after your sentence. Logan smiled. He actually smiled. His eyes crinkled slightly, the lines across his forehead smashing together. For what felt like the first time you’d seen him grin at you. And it made you ecstatic. You felt accomplished. Someone else besides Laura had finally gotten the grump across the hall to smile. And it was genuine. Not the snarky ones he had given you before. But it was a truly happy smile. 

”Yeah she’s…different,” He said, still smiling whilst bringing the bottle to his lips. “You guys are similar.”

You leaned towards him. “How so?”

“You’re both just…different from everyone else.” Now it was your turn to smile.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Logan scoffed, taking another sip from the beer. 

“Doubt it.”

“I bet you can’t give me another good compliment.” He hid another smile behind his bottle. And then his smile was gone, another look appearing in his eyes as he set the now empty beer bottle on the table. And damn you wished you could make him smile again. Maybe get a chuckle or a small laugh. But no. The look you got now was not a smile or a cocky grin, it was serious and hard. Like he was staring into your mind and soul. Staring right into you. 

“Well for one you are…attractive.” He paused before saying the last word, averting his eyes from yours. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and if the fire didn't glow so bright you might not have caught it. 

“And what does that mean?” You leaned closer to him, tilting your head to the side. He glanced down, looking at your lips. And then he moved even closer to you. It was as if a flip switched inside of him. 

“I like your hair…” He reached his hand to touch your hair, moving away a piece that had fallen in front of your eyes. You watched him as his warm hand paused right before touching your face. His fingertips slowly panned down your face. “Your eyes…” His hand traced your face delicately, stopping right before your chin. “Your lips…” He reached your chin, holding it in his hand, grazing your lips softly with his thumb. His thumb pulled open your lips, your mouth parted slightly. You held your breath, waiting for his next move.

His hand left your face, encasing your neck, grazing the exposed skin. 

“Your neck,” He wanted to kiss the skin, leaving marks in the place of his lips. His hand trailed again, now on your shoulder. “Your shoulders.” His hand was laying on your shoulder, and you scooted towards him but he abruptly pulled away, flexing his hand when it reached his side. Your eyebrows creased, and you reached towards him, your hand about to land on his cheek but he pulled away fast. So fast that you almost fell on top of him, but he couldn't look at you. 

“What-”

“I should go.” Logan stood abruptly, almost flushed, as he made his way to the door. You sat there stunned for a moment, staring ahead of you as the door opened. Logan was standing there, waiting for you to say something. Anything. But you didn't. You sat there, silent. The door slammed shut moments later, the only sound that was heard was the crackling of fire. 

That Friday night, you arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes before the time Darcy had instructed you. You wore a short black dress, one you haven't worn in years since before you were married. One you wanted Logan to rip off- No. You were here on a date with another man. Not to have thoughts of your neighbor. 

You were the first one there, so you sat at the table, anxiously tapping your foot on the ground whilst sipping on a glass of water. It was now five minutes before the time and you were starting to think you got the wrong time. Maybe you-

Someone called your name from behind you. 

“Hi Uh, I’m Charles.” He stuck his hand forward, and you stared at it for a moment before smiling and gripping his sweaty palm. You introduced yourself, inviting him to sit down in front of you. Your phone went off, and you picked it up staring at the text Darcy had sent you: sorry we can’t make it! have fun! ;)

You angrily shut off your phone, taking a large gulp of water. Of course it was a set up. 

“Is something wrong?” Charles asked and you choked on your water slightly, still mid sip. You eventually swallowed the water, nodding your head. 

“Yeah everythings perfect. Darcy just texted me that she couldn't make it.” Charles smiled lightly, looking into his lap. 

“Yes, well that is not a surprise.” He laughed, and it was awkwardly silent before you asked him a question. 

“So um, you work with Darcy?” He nodded, the waiter arriving with two glasses of red wine, setting them in front of you both. 

“Yes.” He responded, and you waited for him to say something else but he sat there quietly sipping on his wine. This guy is a talker…

The rest of the night went on like that. You ask him a question and he'd give you a short one word answer. It was exhausting. But, damn, he was attractive. But he wasn't Logan. He wasn't the man across the hall. The man that had voluntarily touched your face. The man that you had wanted to want you back. But, he wouldn't do it. And that made you angry. So angry that you had brought this mysterious man back to your apartment after your date. You pulled him up the stairwell, your hand in his. Your black dress rode up your thighs as you went up but you didn't care. You didn't give a damn. You didn't give a single fuck. Because this man wanted you. And that's all the permission you needed. For someone to finally want you back. 

His hand trailed down to your ass, squeezing gently and you couldn't help but think of Logan. Wishing it was him instead. You reached your door, fumbling with the keys in your hand. You were nervous. The keys fell to the ground, and Charles bent to pick them up, rising in front of your face. He twirled them in his hand, before his mouth landed on yours quickly. You gasped as his lips met yours, not reciprocating the kiss at first. And then it dawned on you. Why did you care? In a second, your hands were running through his hair, tugging it harshly and he groaned when you did it. He pushed you against the door, his lips trailing down your neck. Your eyes were closed, your mouth agape. When your eyes opened, they met the gaze of someone across the hall.

They met the gaze of Logan. Logan was stationed on the stairwell, his hand gripping the handrail so hard you could see the blood from his knuckles already seeping through the loose bandages that covered his hands. He stared into your eyes, not even daring to look away from you. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving with every moment Charles lips trailed lower and lower.

He watched as his hands trailed down your thighs and under your dress. He watched it, not uttering a single word. And then he looked hurt; disappointed. He shook his head, slowly dragging his feet as he walked towards his apartment. The door opened quietly, and Logan stopped for a moment before he entered slamming the door loudly on his way in. 

The sound of the door slamming startled Charles and he jumped away from you, breathing heavily. 

“Sorry I-” He began to say, but you cut him off. You didn't want this. You didn't want him. 

“You're a sloppy kisser,” You deadpanned, turning to open your door with your keys. You opened the door, pausing to say one more thing. 

“And you're boring.” The door slammed shut. 

That same night, you lay in bed in only an oversized tee tossing and turning. You couldn't sleep. You rose from your bed, still only in your underwear. You sagged yourself outside your door, leading to Lee’s apartment. Just before you knocked on her door, you stopped yourself. What were you doing? It was two in the morning. Lee most likely was not asleep but you didn't want to wake her. You didn't want to bother her with your troubles. 

You sighed, running your hands through your hair before turning around. Logan was in the middle of closing his door, and he stopped only staring at you. Only staring at you, solely in your underwear. Staring at your exposed legs. And then he looked away, almost as if he was remembering something. Remembering past events. A dark look overtook his eyes when he glanced back at you and you fought the urge to clench your legs together. 

Logan had not been able to sleep either. He sat on his couch waiting…waiting for your door to open. Because Logan knew exactly what sound your door made every time you opened it. 

“Have fun?” Logan grumbled, setting a trash bag outside of his door. You scoffed, pulling your shirt down to your knees. You tried to at least cover your thighs, but the shirt just bunched up reaching the ends of your inner thigh. 

“You know what Logan,” You looked at the ground. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” Your eyes raised to meet his. 

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re a fucking hypocrite!” You stepped towards him, away from Lee’s door. He shook his head, his lip curling upwards.

“And you’re a slut. What's worse?” He turned towards his door, opening it but you shot forwards, your bare feet padding across the ground. You slammed Logan’s door shut with your back before he could enter, and he backed away, a long sigh escaping through his nose. 

“Fuck you. You don't get to call me that. That is not fair.” Your finger pointed at his face, almost touching his mouth. His lips parted, as if thinking about his next words carefully. 

“Well you did fuck a guy you just met.” Logan inched towards you, his face now hovering over yours. 

“I didn't sleep with him! Jesus- what is your-” Logan bounded forward, bringing your head towards his, his lips meeting yours in a furious kiss. At first you crinkled up below him, not prepared for that. But then you melted into his hands, as he kept kissing you, his hands placed firmly between your two cheeks. You kissed him back just as hard, if not harder than he expected. He enjoyed tasting you for the first time. He wanted to relish in it. He wanted to feel you for the rest of his life. 

Your back hit the door of his apartment, Logan’s hands traveling lower to grip at your shirt, lightly lifting it above your stomach. His hand encased across your stomach, tracing it lightly with his rough fingers. You pulled away from him, hitting the back of your head on the door again. 

“I'm sorry I-” You were breathing through your mouth, trying to calm your heartbeat. 

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.” Logan growled deeply, and you felt your heart quicken as he put his hands between your head, diving in for another kiss. And you accepted. His hand trailed down your stomach again, this time not stopping. He paused right before the top of your underwear, almost uncertain. He played with the panty lines, almost tugging them off of you. But you ripped your lips away from his. 

“What are you-” Logan’s fingers went under your underwear, and you let out a gasp as his fingered glazed over your core, and you jutted your hips forward, a gasp leaving your lips. 

“I’m taking what is mine. Isn't that what you wanted?” His fingers, his calloused and large fingers slowly inserted themselves into you. You were wet. You were surprised at how aroused you had gotten by the previous argument. How much making him angry turned you on. Logan’s fingers curled inside you, and it took everything in you to not buckle beneath him. 

“Fuck-” You moaned and Logan pumped in again before you gripped his shoulders with both of your hands, squeezing tightly, your head falling on the door again.  

“Quiet…” He whispered, starting to pump in and out of you at a faster pace. His other hand trailed down your stomach, reaching your thighs. Your beautiful thighs. He squeezed one, running his thumb across the space of your exposed skin, his fingers pausing inside you. 

“I wanted to kill him,” Your mouth opened in a silent plea as he stopped pumping inside you, a groan leaving his lips. “For touching you, touching what's mine.” A quiet moan left your lips, so soft like music to Logan’s ears. “And that dress…I wish I had gotten the chance to rip it off of you.” He wanted to watch it drop to the floor, he wanted to not just rip, but tear, that dress off of you. Because you were his, and only his. He began pumping inside of you again, more vigorously now and all you could do was try not to crumble against the door. 

“Please,” Your mouth opened again, a loud moan releasing itself from you and Logan’s hand that had been on your thigh reached up and cupped itself over your mouth. You breathed out heavily, that familiar feeling building up inside of you. “Please, Logan.”

“You have to be quiet.” He reprimanded, and your legs were starting to feel like jello now. You were so close, Logan’s eyes were only on you as he kept pumping his fingers in and out. His pace fastened, and your breathing was getting heavier and your hands now gripped the one covering your mouth. A muffled moan escaped from you, and your eyes closed slightly as you chased your high, about to-. 

And then Logan stopped, his fingers leaving from inside of you and your eyes opened to see him smirking at you. 

“What the fuck?” You asked, your mouth open in shock. Only a few seconds longer and you would have released all over his hand. In front of his apartment. In the hallway of your building. Your cheeks got red, and you touch them with your hands. There had to be cameras, right? 

“Oh my god we're gonna get arrested for-” Logan laughed, shaking his head. 

“Were not going to get arrested,” And then he looked you up and down, almost instantly noticing your uncomfortable stance. “Here.”

He took his coat off, putting it around your shoulders, reaching behind you. And then he pulled you into a long hug, after the coat had been sat on your shoulders. You looked so small and frail, but your eyes still had a euphoric gloss in them. It took everything in Logan not to take you right then and there. Because truly he didnt care where it was that he fucked you. He just needed you. 

But instead he kissed the top of your head and you sighed, wrapping your arms around him as well. It was comfortable standing like that. It wasn't awkward. Just comfortable. He then picked you up bridal style and you gasped laughing as he did, opening the door of his apartment. You looked over at the apartment in front of you, right before you entered, reading the numbers three-fifteen. You wondered what would have happened if you picked a different apartment complex. If you didn't go on that atrocious date. 

So before you went to bed that night, Logan asleep next to you, you silently thanked apartment 315. 

a/n: wow I was NOT expecting people to actually read the first part omg. I really appreciate everyone’s comments! I wrote this during my work breaks lmfao. I wanted to get it out asap. Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time ever writing smut so I’m not too sure how good I did but we’ll see… until next time you horny fucks! Also they did NOT freak… i couldn't stop thinking about Laura being next door to that so… lol

taglist: @needz1nk, @likeficsinthewnd

cross-posted on ao3:

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part five

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Five - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 1.1k

We find our way to the diner Logan had spotted, and it's no wonder it’s deserted—the main source of food seems to be Spam. I grumble as Wade tosses a can my way. “I’d rather drop dead than eat,” I inspect the can, grimacing, “20-year-old Spam.”

I watch as Wade hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and digs in. “Suit yourself, Pumpkin, more for me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Logan searching for something else in the kitchen, his movements deliberate, but I keep my focus on Wade.

“You said the TVA can fix my mistake?” I ask, my voice low, the weight of the question hanging in the air. I notice Logan pause, then he resumes rummaging, though his silence speaks volumes.

Wade tilts his head, gesturing for me to sit across from him as he pulls off his mask. “Yeah, for sure. My deal with Mr. Grumpy over there is that he’ll help me, and then I’ll help him.” I nod slowly, processing his words.

“And your universe is…?”

“Dying,” Wade replies nonchalantly, shoveling a spoonful of Spam into his mouth. “Because that beautiful piece of ass died in my universe.”

I raise an eyebrow, a mixture of disbelief and sympathy washing over me. “Right, Laura told me about that Logan.”

Wade gasps, his hand freezing mid-bite. “You know X-23? Did she tell you about—”

“I don’t want to hear about my Variants,” I cut him off, my tone firm. Wade’s mouth snaps shut, but not before he gives a sly grin.

“She had a nice piece of ass as well,” he mutters, his eyes tilting downward, clearly checking me out. I wave a hand in front of his face, irritation flaring.

“Eyes up here,” I growl, my voice laced with warning. He meets my gaze with a smirk, unbothered by my anger.

Meanwhile, Logan continues to clatter around the kitchen, his focus intense as Wade calls over to him, “So, what made you finally wear an honest-to-God costume? Mine’s red so they can’t see me bleed. But I can see how yellow would be useful too.”

Logan barely looks up as he retorts, “Have you been checked for ADHD?”

Wade doesn’t miss a beat. “No, but I’ve had several STDs, which were probably caused by ADHD.”

I can’t resist adding, “A walking scrotum like you? Not surprised.”

Wade grins at me, biting the air playfully. “She has a mouth, you should use it more.”

“I’ll cut your dick off,” I snap, my patience wearing thin.

Wade chuckles, undeterred. “What are you looking for?” he asks, shifting his attention back to Logan.

Logan finally pulls out a can of rubbing alcohol, holding it up as if he’s found something worth keeping.

Wade’s eyes widen in horror. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he babbles, shaking his head furiously.

I step closer, recognizing the label. “That’s rubbing alcohol,” I point out, though it’s clear Logan knows.

Wade’s concern deepens as he watches Logan crack open the bottle. “You don’t wanna drink that... Yeah, there you go. Fuck that liver.”

Ignoring Wade’s protests, Logan takes a seat beside me in the booth, the bottle of rubbing alcohol clutched in his hand. He glances over at Wade, a rare look of curiosity crossing his face. “What the fuck are those?” he asks, pointing to the stapled bits of fluff still attached to Wade’s head.

Wade touches the staples casually. “Oh. Back in civilian life, I wear a toupee, but nobody knows.”

Logan’s laughter is unexpected, a genuine sound that catches Wade off guard. For a moment, Wade joins in, his laughter light and carefree—until he realizes Logan is laughing at him, not with him. The smile slips from Wade’s face, a flicker of hurt in his eyes.

“Everybody knows,” Logan says, the amusement fading as quickly as it came.

I frown, studying Logan more closely. He’s different—subtly so, but different. The way he carries himself, the excessive drinking—it was never this bad before. There’s a heaviness in him now, something dark that wasn’t there before.

Wade, perhaps sensing the shift in mood, offers a lifeline. “Wanna talk about what’s haunting you, or should we wait for a third-act flashback?”

Logan’s response is immediate, “Go fuck yourself.”

Wade shrugs, unbothered. “You know, in my world, you’re well-regarded.”

Logan’s gaze hardens. “Yeah, well, not in mine.”

The sadness in his voice is unmistakable, and it tugs at something inside me. We have so much we need to talk about, but now isn’t the time.

Wade, sensing the tension, tries to lighten the mood. “They don’t like me much in mine either.”

Logan doesn’t bite. “You don’t say.”

Wade continues, the bravado in his voice slipping just a bit. “I wanted to be something, you know? I wanted to be an Avenger.”

Logan snorts, his disdain clear. “Fuck the Avengers.”

Wade’s voice softens, a rare glimpse of vulnerability showing. “I didn’t make the cut though. Same with the X-Men. My girlfriend left me like this.”

Logan’s eyebrow raises in surprise. “You had a girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Vanessa,” Wade says, his tone wistful. “When we met, she was a dancer. I mean, our whole life was good. But oh boy, I just fucked that right up.”

Wade spares me a glance, his expression unreadable. I can’t tell if he’s looking for sympathy or just sharing his story because it’s the truth.

“But you,” Wade continues, his voice tinged with admiration, “you were an X-Men. Fuck that, you were *the* X-Man. The Wolverine. He’s a hero in my world.”

Logan’s expression darkens, his voice cold and distant. “Yeah, well, he ain’t shit in mine.”

My eyes cast down, fingers tapping on the counter gently. The weight of Logan’s words hangs in the air, a reminder of the pain and regret that lingers between us.

“We should head out,” I say quietly, breaking the silence that has settled over us.

Logan seems eager to go, standing up quickly, the urgency clear in his movements. The three of us pack up and leave in a rush, exiting the diner and beginning a slow walk. I take the lead, the silence between us heavy with unspoken words.

Wade breaks the quiet, his voice unusually soft. “Pumpkin, you never told us how you got here.”

I glance at Logan, knowing he already knows the story. It was one of the first things I told him, the memory still raw. My heart aches at the thought of what we’ve lost, what I couldn’t save.

“I was too slow,” I admit, the words heavy on my tongue. “I tried to change the outcome of our world—the death of my friends, my family—that’s all on me.”

Logan’s voice is a quiet rumble beside me. “No, that’s on me too.”

I shake my head, refusing to let him take the blame. “You couldn’t have known. I did, in a way. I could have practiced more, gotten better, maybe seen more.”

The conversation falls silent, the weight of our shared guilt pressing down on us. I can tell our conversation has run its course.

Next Part

A/N: Fuck it, I’m staying up late to write because this is entirely self-indulgent.

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw

comment if you want to be added!

[eloquentlytired]

SFW.

old! logan howlett x gn!reader — the sailor.

summary: You visit your village for summer vacation with your parents. And then you meet the sailor.

word count: 1.5k

warnings(?): dad logan, angsty and kinda sad, hurt to comfort, no smut, yes they kiss in like two days okay let me live, I just made this to cry tbh, sweet in the end

note: I felt inspired at 4:46am so now this came out, haven't re-checked for mistakes so pls don't kill me, kinda rushed

Vacation at the village is always fun when there's so many things happening.

Gossip. Yelling. Bickering. Throng. Bad comments. Distant relatives you've never met, or met as a baby, that you're expected to somehow still remember.

It's definitely all the things that you hate altogether and at the same time everything that overwhelms you. No matter how much time passes.

You find yourself by the sea, walking with a book in your hand. You remember this view vividly and how much comfort it used to provide you with. Now it's just another pretty view but at least there are no voices here to disturb you. You much prefer a seagull’s cry than your family’s at this point.

You walk for what feels like a few minutes when in reality it's over an hour.

The sunset is glorious and watching the sea swallow the sun makes your eyes beam with envy.

You see a single boat in the distance, nothing unusual, but it's the only thing illuminating the dark waters once the sun sets.

There's not much to see. You sit there for a while and quietly watch as the boat continues its destination. As you walk away, you wonder what that destination might be.

It's almost fateful to find a single boat anchored where you'd been the previous night. The waters were crystal clear now and the boat floated on the waves calmly.

You took in its old appearance — it looked like it'd seen better days. Despite that, the worn out letters of the ship’s title and the faded colour made it seem a little charming.

It was odd that something so old and tortured could be so lovely.

“I cannot remember a single person that would sit under the scorching sun to stare at this trash.” A gruff voice said behind you.

You turned fast, clearly startled by the sudden approach.

The man who'd spoken to you — perhaps as old and disheveled as this boat — huffed in amusement.

“I think she's lovely.” You tell him and he seems surprised.

“She’s old and ugly. Not much different than her captain.” He murmurs while his hand pats the faded white wood of the boat.

There's not much to say as the strange man jumps into his boat and starts stacking up some boxes. You watch him grunt a lot, maybe rub his knuckles across his back a few times too.

It feels painful just to see him bend.

“Maybe you could use some help.” The words leave your mouth effortlessly but what surprises you most is his response.

That hard gaze that settles on you and the way he pauses to simply stare before going back to what he's doing.

You distance yourself from the dock and your mind wanders to the embarrassing interaction.

Despite wanting to throw yourself out of the window, you learn that the man you've indirectly insulted is named Logan.

“He’s a good man and sailor.” Your father says one day while pouring himself some orange juice. Your mom reads her book quietly by the window but she listens to him too.

“He seems a little... unpleasant.” You can't help but mutter while you read your work emails through your phone — they're piling up terribly fast.

You almost miss your father talking to you until his finger snap takes away your attention. “What?”

“I asked if you know about the name of his boat.” Your father quirks an eyebrow and he almost asks as if he's challenging you for something.

“Laura.” You mumble, remembering the faded letters on the boat.

“That’s his daughter’s name. She died last year but the man never speaks about it.” Your dad’s response makes both you and your mother's head turn towards him.

He gets the cue and continues.

“Perhaps we could cheer him up a little. Invite him over.” You know where this is going and you don't like it.

You still don't like it as you march towards Logan Howlett’s home. The road is easy and short, and his house is neater than you expect. On the outside that is.

“What?” You can hear the growl in his voice before he opens the door. When he does, he gives you that stare again and you have no idea what he means by it.

“My parents would like to invite you to dinner.” You mumble awkwardly and for a second you forget that you're a grown working person with the ability to make decisions for yourself.

Logan seems to ponder over it.

His fingers scratch his chin over his beard and his eyes appear red as if he's barely slept. Definitely as tortured as his boat.

“Listen. You don't have to—”

“I’ll come.”

Well. And he does.

The walk from Logan's house to yours isn't very bad. You never talk which is bad yes but at least he doesn't stare at you as if he wants to wack you anymore.

The dinner starts off nice. People sitting around and praying — Logan doesn't — and then eating.

You pull yourself away from the table full of your parents, loud relatives and Logan so you can sit with your younger cousins.

It’s going well. The chattering, the nice food and you wiping the food stains off your baby cousin who simply giggles in return. It's a good night until you hear the question drop.

“What about you, Logan? Got any kids? A wife?”

The silence is deafening and you turn your head around slowly to see what's happening.

You don't know if there's another person in this world that hates this more than you do. That feeling you don't want to name, those expressions you don't want to see. It's the worst because it's so evident too — written all over their faces. It's everywhere in their body language too. The awkward cough, the subtle hand brushes and the elbow swings. The eyes. Their pity.

Before you know it, you're rising from your seat and your eyes fall at your bitter Aunt— you know the one who always makes family dinner bad.

“Aunt Jodi.” You call out, drawing attention on you. “Dad tells me you got your fifth divorce on March. Happy holidays.”

She fumes, the others try to soothe her and you go. You notice Logan departing too, maybe running after you.

Your legs guide you to that dock for whatever reason. It's dumb but it somehow manages to soothe your nerves as you sit on the rocky surface and allow your feet to wiggle over the water.

The sun hasn't set yet and once again the view is beautiful.

“Not very nice to insult your family.” He doesn't startle you this time, you kind of expected him to be there.

You unconsciously scoot over and Logan sits next to you grunting.

“Careful. I might insult you next.” You murmur teasingly and for the first time you notice a smile on him. A faint one but still there.

“You know about her?” He suddenly asks and his distant gaze somehow makes you understand.

“About your daughter?” You murmur and he nods. “Only that she's passed and well... Her name.”

You look at the boat while he stares at the setting sun.

“She was everything. Loved the sea and wanted to come with me always but I'd never let her. She was so little.” You didn't dare look his way as he spoke, reminiscing his story. “Well, one day, I did it. I let her come with me and we took the boat for a ride. The weather got messy and shit and..”

It didn't take much to hear the ache in his tone. The desperation. Your heart clenched and you felt your eyes burning — this is who you were. Feeling what people felt. Maybe a little worse sometimes.

“Tried to save her. I failed.” The sun had set out long ago and the moon was high again.

Logan looked at you, at your twitching shoulders that indicated your silent sobs and huffed a little.

“No one’s ever cried for me.” He finds himself adding.

“I’m just..” Your voice shakes but Logan waits patiently, doesn't rush you. “I’m crying because of that boat. It's so ugly.”

You hope he laughs and he does. You do too.

“At least make it pretty for her before she haunts you.” You mumble through your tears and finally look at him, eyes glassy.

His hand is cold when it brushes against your cheek, wiping away a few tears. You lean into the touch quietly.

“I think she's blessed me.” Logan tells you while your gazes meet and you can't help but feel he's right in a way.

His hand wraps around your nape and tugs you forward. When your lips meet his, you close your eyes and savor the passing moment as the sea crashes quietly around you.

Your fingers reach for the wrinkles by his eyes and you touch him there as he claims your lips again — murmuring words you barely catch. Pretty. Sweet. Kind.

In the end,

it still seems so odd that something so old and tortured could be so lovely.