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wchswift · 2 days ago

Note

headcanons for a reader who’s lowk like intimidating to look at but like secretly such a softie and wants love with logan howlett ofc

✧ logan howlett x intimidating-looking!reader headcanons

notes: I hope you like it and that it's what you wanted!! I think I got a little carried away and it ended up being too long, but yea...

First Impressions:

✷ The first time Logan lays eyes on you, he thinks you’re so controlled and have such strong body language that he feels intrigued by your presence. You carry yourself with power—your gaze cuts, your posture screams confidence, and people get out of your way when you walk by. ✷ Logan always notices you the second you walk in a room — not because you’re flashy or loud, but because you’ve got presence. ✷ There’s something about your posture, the way your eyes sweep a space. You’re not scaring anyone — just… untouchable. Regal. Unreadable. You’ve got that look that makes people sit up straighter. ✷ People don’t mess with you. You don’t invite small talk. Even when you say something kind, people take a second to realize you were being kind. ✷ He respects it. Doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, but you can feel the caution in his stare. That low growl of curiosity. ✷ The students act differently around you. They scatter when you walk through the mansion halls, partly because of your intense presence, partly because of how silent and shadow-like you move. ✷ You don’t smile easily. Not because you’re angry—but because your resting face is unreadable. It makes people nervous. You’re calm. Composed. And undeniably striking. ✷ Logan doesn’t think you’re dangerous—he thinks you're sharp. A little hard to read. Mysterious. And he likes that. ✷ He doesn’t get intimidated often, but something about how effortlessly cool you look? Yeah. It makes him glance twice. ✷ Logan jokes to Scott that he has finally met someone who looks meaner than him. He’s interested.

Logan Sees Through It:

✷ Logan’s been around enough to know the difference between mean and guarded. You don’t glare — you just observe. You don’t sneer — you just don’t waste expressions. That’s not rudeness. That’s discipline. ✷ He catches on pretty quick that the image doesn’t match what’s underneath. ✷ He hears you humming softly while making tea alone. ✷ You pause to hold open a door for students and actually whisper “You’re okay, sweetheart” when one of them trips. ✷ You talk tough, but Logan sees how your eyes soften when someone’s hurting—even if you don’t say much. ✷ The moment that cracks him is the way you talk to animals. A stray cat shows up near the X-Mansion and you crouch down so carefully, calling it with the softest voice. ✷ You think no one’s watching, but Logan sees it all from the window. You scratch the cat’s ears and whisper, “You don’t have to be scared.” He blinks, surprised at how sweet you look.

The Real You:

✷ You overthink everything. Especially love. Especially Logan. ✷ You don’t know how to show softness without feeling exposed. But god, you want to. You crave touch. Quiet. Belonging. ✷ You write letters you never send. You keep things that remind you of good moments. You replay compliments in your head because you’re starving for them, even if you pretend you’re not. ✷ You’re gentle in private. Logan’s the first person who gets to see the way you whisper good mornings like they’re a secret, or how you carefully fold his flannel when you borrow it. ✷ You cry once. It takes everything in you to not apologize for it. Logan’s thumb swipes over your cheek, “Ain’t nothing weak about feelin’ things. Least of all you.” ✷ The first time he calls you “soft,” you stiffen like you’re insulted. Then he leans down and murmurs, “Didn’t say weak, darlin’. Just said soft.” And you melt. ✷ You have a “stoic face” but Logan lives for the tiny shifts—eyebrow quirks, lip twitches, the soft focus in your eyes when you're half-asleep leaning on his shoulder. ✷ You pretend you’re fine after missions. Logan sees right through it. When you’re hurt, he growls, “Stop acting like you don’t need help. I wanna take care of you.”

Your Relationship:

✷ Sunshine/grumpy? Nope. You’re both grumpy. But deep down, you're just as soft, if not softer, than him. ✷ He calls you things like “tough girl,” “heartbreaker"— teasing names that only he’s allowed to use. ✷ Logan never underestimates you, but he never lets you overextend yourself either. "You’re strong. I know. You don’t have to prove that to me, ever." ✷ You two are the kind of couple people are scared to approach but also whisper about—“they’re scary… but have you seen the way they look at each other?” ✷ He calls you intimidating, but never in a mocking way. It's respect. "You walk like you own the room, sweetheart. Can’t blame people for being a little nervous." ✷ He loves that you’re tough-looking. He thinks you look hot as hell when you spar, when you walk through the halls, when you stand behind him with arms crossed like you’ll kill for him. ✷ But his favorite look is when you’re in his shirt, barefoot, blinking sleepily, asking if he wants pancakes. ✷ To everyone else, you two look like a power couple and even more intimidating together: composed, guarded, silent, strong. ✷ But behind closed doors, you're curled up in his lap with your face buried in his chest. He strokes your hair, calls you “soft thing” and “my girl” in that low, raspy voice. ✷ He gets used to you being shy about asking for affection. So he learns to offer it before you have to say anything. ✷ He adores that you only soften for him. That the world sees steel, but he gets all the honey.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

⛥ main masterlist.

taglist: @cruel-as-sin @logaenhowlett @kvntonq @tinas111 @mcrdvcks (if you want to be added or removed let me know <3)

#꣖ ີ ꣓ writes.#꣖ ີ ꣓ inbox.#logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett angst #logan howlett x reader #logan x reader #logan howlett #logan wolverine #logan howlett fluff #x men fanfiction #logan howlett oneshot #worst wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #the wolverine #wolverine #hugh jackman fanfic #logan howlett 🪽

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loganficsonly · 3 days ago

Text

an independent woman ☘ 9 (end)

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 9: epilogue ✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

masterlist

worst!logan x fem!reader, 2.1k

SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his.

SERIES WARNINGS/TAGS: english is not my native language, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult (mid-late 20s) with a slightly written out personality, friends to roommates to lovers, slow burn, secret crushes, mentions of alcoholism and AA

CHAPTER WARNINGS/TAGS: logan is a lover boy, nudity and implied sex

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i'm a sap so i've started reflecting on this series and the experience of writing it lol maybe i'll post that sometime. thank you SO MUCH to everyone that's supported this fic i love you <3

also i think it's freaky how my other fic the cure really fits into this series, i'm treating it as a side story lol

“Looks like things are going well,” Laura hums.

Logan looks over at her as he sips on a canned cola.

The afternoon sun rays hit the bench they’re sitting on, a little bit too warm, almost blinding. Cicadas buzz in the background, and the faint smell of elm permeates in the air. They can hear a bunch of kids somewhere, their shrill laughter floating above a game of soccer. Regular consequences of hanging out at Tompkins Square Park in mid-July.

But neither father nor daughter move. Fugitives like them have kept to the edges of the world far too long to take moments like these for granted. Sunshine. Air.

Peace.

“What do you mean?”

The younger woman rolls her eyes at him. Universal code for ‘quit the bullshit’.

“Come on. You and her.”

She tilts her chin over in your direction.

You and Wade are playing catch with Mary Puppins in a field of grass in the distance. From where Logan is, the dog looks like a matted hopping rain cloud. Vanessa hovers nearby, filming the moment on her phone.

It was Wade’s idea to come here. Something about wanting to heal his inner child by having a day out with his family. You quickly got excited at the plan, and Logan liked it when you smiled, so he didn’t say no.

He finds the sight of you distracting. How you’re dressed casually in a top and a pair of shorts that look like they’re made of a material so soft and worn, cooing over Dogpool as she brings you back the battered tennis ball.

It’s the sun’s fault. The light outlines your skin like a halo. You look like you’re glowing.

“What about it?” he replies, peeling his eyes away from you and back to Laura. His tone isn’t avoidant. If anything, he almost sounds playful. Like a dare.

Laura lets out a snort.

“Please, it’s pretty damn obvious. You look a decade younger these days.”

Logan smirks. “Just one?”

“Cracking jokes like that? Two.”

She perches her elbows on top of her knees, leaning forward in her seat.

“She’s good for you.”

Logan doesn’t answer, but his mind responds almost instantaneously, projecting images of private moments of you and him in the apartment that is now his sanctuary. Slideshow after slideshow of collected memories.

That time you kiss the inside of his wrist after he fixes a loose valve under the kitchen sink, a soft and wordless ‘thank you’. Your legs draped across his lap, shifting a little as you laugh at something inane on TV. Whispers of his name beneath the covers, skin against skin, your fingers bringing him closer, always on him somewhere like you can’t stand being apart—his hair, his shoulders, his arms…

Like a wishing well in the woods, you gave him something deep and lasting and magical.

Drinking from it has made him even thirstier.

Laura looks over at him, catching the way his gaze softens. There’s that faraway look, one that tells her he’s not quite sure how he got to be here. He thinks nobody notices.

You think you’re slick, too, but Laura sees how you no longer protest when Logan gets your bag or umbrella when you walk into a room. How you barely put up a fight when Wade banned you from washing dishes at his place. The change is subtle, gradual, but enough to pick up between gatherings.

Like you’re learning the language of being, without explaining why you have the right to.

As someone who got banished to the Void, of course Laura sees it.

The silence settles. Logan is the first to speak.

“Yeah. She is.”

Laura blinks, head turning to see him. He’s still looking at you.

“Don’t fuck it up,” she smiles goodnaturedly.

He huffs, hiding his face behind the rim of his drink.

“I won’t.”

You and Wade are fussing over Mary Puppins. He’s patting her butt while you scratch behind her ears, as if the dog ordered a full-service massage.

“Sooo, when were you gonna tell me?”

You resist the knee-jerk impulse to freeze. That sing-song voice means trouble.

“Tell you what?” you feign ignorance.

“That you and Logan are a thing. Even Al can see that—and I don’t need to remind you she’s blind.”

You think you’d be the worst person to ever be put in an interrogation room, because you sigh, not even putting up a fight. Any attempt at deflection would probably be pathetic.

It’s not as if you and Logan are deliberately keeping your relationship a vaulted secret. The two of you just happen to agree to be subtler in group situations to avoid unnecessary attention, and… well, the sort of chaos that Wade might bring when he stumbles upon this kind of knowledge.

But this is Wade you’re talking to. ‘Friend’ seems too small a word to summarize him. You gave him tips on how to get rid of blood from his clothes, sat with him on days that were too sad. He made you open up—one of the first people to do so since you moved to the city.

He also gave you Logan, in a way.

And it’s not like you can lie to him convincingly. Even if you could, you kind of don’t want to, either.

You shoot Wade a look that gives him enough to latch on.

“Oh my fucking god, you bitch!” he squeals. “I need you to spill all the tea!”

“What’s there to spill? You figured it out,” you say coolly. Maybe staring at Dogpool’s tongue will help quell the flutter in your stomach.

“You know, last month, he told me he was going to move out,” Wade replies.

Your eyes snap up to his.

“It was during that mission with the TVA. Went to this different universe—which was fucking sick, by the way, everything was black-and-white—and you wouldn’t believe what we saw.”

“What?”

“You. With a really cute boyfriend that’s not Logie Bear. The way it rattled him, I figured he had feelings for you—I mean, I figured that out a long time ago, but his reaction really was the nail on the coffin.”

You blink. You did not know anything about this. Your hand stills, unconsciously pulling away from Mary Puppins. She immediately finds it a disservice and darts over to where Vanessa’s standing, leaving you and Wade sitting on the grass.

“And?”

“I teased him about it, of course. He insisted he didn’t have feelings for you and was going to move out anyways.”

Your heart jumps.

“Then I punched that lying slut in the face.”

“You what?”

“And now he’s your boyfriend! You’re welcome,” he bats his eyelashes, grinning with glee.

You choke out a laugh of disbelief. “I… did not know this.”

“Which is why I’m telling you—I take full credit for getting you two dumbasses together.”

“Hey! Who’re you calling a dumbass?”

“‘Of course I like him, Wade, it’s just not like that, you know?’” Wade mocks, purposefully launching a poor imitation of your face. You feel your face burn, embarrassed enough to put a hand over your face when you recognize your own words once upon a lunch.

“Please don’t.”

“Fine. At least tell me you’ve seen him shirtless.”

You swallow. Then tersely nod once. He lets out an overly dramatic sigh, flopping his arms like a deflating tube man.

“FINALLY. Did it change your life?”

“Yes.”

The two of you share a smile—yours shy, his a little scandalous. There’s silence. You catch his gaze soften.

“You’re good for each other, honeybee. You know that, right?”

Yes. Yes, you do. You feel it in your bones. That kind of certainty isn’t something you feel very often in life. But it’s there, every day you wake up next to him, every night you sleep next to him. How he lifts the constant weight of needing to justify your existence. How he reassures you that you’re free to be without needing to prove why you’re worth it.

He makes you believe in another kind of liberty. A new kind of independence.

You look over to where he’s sitting with Laura and find that he’s already looking this way.

“And you’re a great friend, Wade. You know that, right?”

“The best there is, boo.”

You left the park at sunset, parting ways with Laura first. Wade and Vanessa continue to walk with you—it’s a couple more blocks before they need to turn into a different street.

Logan and Wade are several steps behind you and Vanessa, silently tuning in and out of a conversation about how middle management is just glorified babysitting. The pink sunset blanketing the city gives way to a wistfulness that’s hard to put a finger on, the kind that looks out the window and whispers ‘there goes another day’.

“Oh.”

Wade blinks, turning to Logan.

The older man digs his hand into his pocket before tossing something in the air. Wade catches it in both his palms.

“For you,” Logan murmurs.

Lightweight aluminum. Red.

Wade stops in his tracks, fingers tracing the embossed letters on the surface of the chip. The street lights help him read the words.

To thine own self be true.

1 month.

Eyes meet—Logan’s already looking back at him. The message in that gaze is loud and clear.

Thank you.

“Wade told me something,” you say quietly.

Draped on Logan’s naked chest, you’re just as bare, thumb mindlessly caressing his midriff. He strokes your hair gently as if mirroring your gesture.

Something in your voice says your mutual friend already knows. Not a single adamantium bone in him finds that surprising. In fact, a part of him is glad—he no longer has to hold his hands back whenever they feel like touching your waist.

“Mm?”

“You saw me. In a different timeline.”

He blinks, then nods, surprised at how long ago that night feels. The memory is buried, but if it’s quiet enough, he can still recall everything: the look on your face, the twinkle in your voice as you laugh while walking down that brick pavement, your lover in hand.

He watches as your eyes continue to stare into his, dreamlike.

Are you thinking about it? The possibility of happiness with someone else, someone out there in the vast threads of alternate realities who’s more deserving of you?

He’s changed, he realizes, because the thoughts don’t bite him like they used to. Debilitating self-doubt diminished into mere curious musings, thanks to time and your constant streams of affection.

Then you smile and—oh, that look on your face turns out to be for him. You don’t even ask about it: who you’re with, if you’re happy, questions that come with the multiverse.

You kiss the space right above his heart.

“I’m glad I’m here. With you,” you whisper, all soft and sweet, and his heart cracks all over again.

You keep getting away with making him ache. He’s not complaining.

He moves you closer to him before kissing you slow, nose brushing yours. Your hands find his shoulders.

That’s when he feels it. Hears a ghost of it, the three words, mouthed against his lips.

I love you.

Funny how things work. How one day a man in a red leather bodysuit dragged him out of a dive bar and into a chance at redemption within a world that’s not his. How he ended up with the most miraculous stroke of serendipity on his lap that led him to mixing his laundry with yours. To distracted movie nights and domestic dinners. To holding you in his arms like he finally gets to keep something he fought tooth and nail for.

Funny how you thought he was sick of you, when he’d be happy to only think of you forever.

You part from the kiss first and he sees you look at him, expectant gaze wavering a little. He curls his lips into a smile—he made you wait. You’ve gotten better at making your wants clear, even if it’s left unsaid.

As if to reward you, he kisses your forehead, then leans down, nose brushing yours. He whispers against your skin.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

And then you exhale like your world is alright again.

Logan hears you first before he sees you enter the apartment. You’re sighing, looking a little haggard compared to when you left for work in the morning.

He makes his way to the door, but before he can help you with your bag, you’re already walking towards him, a smile on your face. Like you’re ready to breathe him in deep.

“I’m home,” you greet, voice light. He hooks your bag onto his elbow before holding your waist in both hands, pulling your body closer to his and slanting his face as he leans down.

You melt into the kiss.

“Yes, you are,” he hums, a breath apart, before pressing his lips onto yours again.

His home, that is.

taglist: @squishyfruitloop @britttzy267 @tezooks @ddwnghead @dear-detested @duckyyyx @hits-different-cause-its-you @mrfitzdarcyslover @snowlycanroc @teresas-lisbon @fidgetingbee @poopie-poopie @thedosian-trix

#an independent woman #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine #x men #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction

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