Comfort in Company
————————————————————————————————————————
pairing: logan “wolverine” howlett x reader
warnings: nightmares, reader has longish hair, no pronouns used (i think) pls let me know. poc friendly! also, let me know if there are mistakes, im tired. and i think that’s it!
word count: roughly 3.7k
a/n: i have wolverine brain rot 😔 lord help me. i may be a lesbian, but he is a very pretty man
————————————————————————————————————————
It took three excruciatingly long months for Logan to stop looking at you with disdain in his eyes. The man in question was a lone wolf. He valued his alone time, often communicating in grunts and a roll of his eyes, or he’d simply just walk away. But, he never failed to do what you so kindly asked him to do. If you happened to lock eyes from across the room, his eyes would always hold a certain edge that basically screamed “I don’t like you; I don’t want you here.” But, you never took it to heart.
Much to Logan's discontent, you were persistent. You saw him as a challenge. Someone to crack. The reward was far too enticing for you to back down. Any excuse to talk to him was ready at the tip of your tongue. To him, you were a never ending ray of sunshine. And, fuck. It annoyed him to no end. You constantly bounced around the mansion, never seeming to slow down. A seemingly permanent smile was etched onto your face. The kids adored you. Shortly after arriving, you became a fan favorite. Your maternal nature made the kids feel at home. A common theme amongst the young mutants being a lack of familial love and support, and you were more than happy to provide.
————————————————————————————————————————
Three months passed before you had a normal conversation with the man, one that wasn’t him just grunting or a small comment that was nearly too quiet for you to hear. It was a late Tuesday night, and you happened to be in the kitchen preparing a new recipe for your class. Teaching kids to cook their own meals rather than relying on ramen or something that could be nuked in the microwave made you feel important. A purple, well loved apron adorned your frame. Green leaves, and pretty pink flowers were embroidered on the front pockets. Flour covered your front in small hand prints from where you had wiped your hands to flip through the pages in front of you. Your hair was pushed out of your face, the warm lighting forming a halo over the crown of your head.
Logan waltzed into the kitchen looking for a glass of water. Another sleepless night had taken over, and he couldn’t sit in bed restless any longer. His figure paused upon seeing you working. A tune poured past your lips as you hummed, a melody he wasn’t quite familiar with. He couldn’t quite get his feet to move any further. Yeah, the man could be brash (a dick, if you will), but he wasn’t blind. Anybody would have to be if they couldn’t see your beauty. Your nose sloped perfectly, and when you concentrated your brows furrowed just right. The apple of your cheeks were smooth, and in this lighting Logan couldn’t find a single flaw. The way your sweats fit just right, or the way your long sleeves were pushed up your forearms. Logan couldn’t deny you looked most at peace when you worked in the kitchen, almost like you were destined to cook and care for others. And, maybe you were. You were certainly good at it.
He had been the subject of many of your affections. Coffee brewed and his favorite mug laid out for him when he gets up in the morning, even though you’re not there anymore. Leftovers often being set aside for him late at night, his name written on the foil with a little heart. Even his laundry would be folded in a basket and set outside his door on occasion. And every single time, he knew it was you. Your sweet smell often lingered, letting him know he had just barely missed you nearly every time.
“Oh! Hi, Logan,” you turned your head to peek over your shoulder. A small patch of flour rested on your cheek, “Are you looking for something?” Your voice was soft, just like everything else about you.
Breaking out of his thoughts, he shuffled closer, reaching around you to grab a glass from the cupboard. A grunt escaped his lips, “Jus’ water.”
The rumble of his gravely sleep voice traveled from his chest to your back where his slightly unzipped hoodie clad chest brushed your backside, causing your eyes to widen just slightly. His pajama pants were slightly too long, the shuffle of them on the floor being the only thing that indicated he stepped away from you aside from the warmth that left you.
You hummed in reply, not pushing your luck with a forced conversation. Your hands went back to kneading the dough in front of you before you put it back in the bowl.
“What.. what are you making? Smells good,” he leaned back against the counter, just to your right. Fatigue weighed heavy on his face, and his hair was sticking up in random tufts from what you assumed to be tossing and turning. He looked soft.
“Just prepping some dough for the tarts I’m having the kids make tomorrow. I figured it’d be easier to make the dough to avoid the inevitable flour fights,” a small chuckle escaped your lips, a fond smile taking over your features.
Logan tilted his head, “Probably the smartest move.”
“I like to think so. Hey, I can save some for you, if you’d like of course. You don’t have to if you d-” Your voice became timid. The idea of having an actual conversation with Logan was starting to hit you, and your nervousness moved to the forefront of your mind.
Logan cut you off with a chuckle, “That’d be nice, sweetheart. Thanks.”
Your face heated up at his words, and that fucker definitely noticed. And, boy oh boy, did he find it amusing.
“Okay, yeah, yeah. I’ll make sure the kids don’t eat them all.” You gave a little nod, and a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. The only sounds were coming from you moving about, putting ingredients away and putting the dough in bowls.
Your voice broke the silence, “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.” His voice held amusement, a small quirk of his eyebrow.
“You know what I mean, smartass.” You quipped back, a small smile tugging on your lips. He grunted with a nod, his hands moving to rest on either side of his hips upon the counter. His eyes followed your movements back and forth from the counter to the fridge.
“I think I’m a little confused. And, please, don’t take this the wrong way. But, why are you sitting with me? I got the impression you were never particularly fond of me.” You pursed your lips, eyes drifting up to his. Your voice was soft, almost as if you were trying to avoid scaring him off.
A sigh left his lips, “Thought it was time to stop bein’ a dick and talk to ya. I notice, you know?”
Your head tilted, “What do you mean?” A curious glint flashed over your eyes. Your hands slowly wiped the rest of the flour off onto your apron. Logan couldn’t help but think you looked so small. So pretty.
“The things you do f’me. I notice them.. Thank you.” His eyes cast downward, suddenly finding the kitchen floor interesting.
A small flicker of recognition passed over your face. You smiled and reached for the small kitchen towel that rested on your shoulder, hands ringing the small material, “Well, you’re welcome. Honestly, I thought it would be a while longer before I got any thanks out of you.”
Logan scoffed, “Fuck off. The smell of the dough helped more than anything.”
“Sure, buddy.” You teased. You turned back to the counter, wiping it down.
He moved to put his cup in the sink, “You should head to bed soon. You could definitely use some beauty sleep, sweetheart.” No you couldn’t. If Logan was forced at gunpoint to tell the truth, he’d say he’d never seen anything so beautiful. But, Logan doesn’t say those things. He barely let himself think them.
“Pot? Kettle? Black? You’re one to talk, do you see your hair?” A loud laugh echoed in the kitchen. Logan’s heart skipped a beat. How had he never noticed how lovely your laugh was?
“Whatever. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget to save me some, yeah?” He moved towards the hall, a small smile cast your way.
“Goodnight, Logan. I’ll see you in the morning.” Your sweet voice trailed behind him.
Logan made his way back upstairs and to his room, three doors down from yours. As he passed your room, he could smell your sweet perfume leaking from under the door. Just like every other time he passed by. Sleep seemed to come much easier for him that night.
————————————————————————————————————————
Since that small interaction, Logan had slowly warmed up to you. After discovering your laugh was his new favorite sound, he’d find any and all ways to make you produce the sound. He didn’t care if you were laughing at or with him. Although, it was more often the former. He started paying more attention to when you’d do small favors for him, finding you later and being sure to thank you. Small touches to your lower back, your shoulder, your elbow. Tying your apron on late nights when your hands were covered in goo from dough, or sauce for some other dish. He became the person you’d have taste test whatever new recipe you wanted to try out.
“Needs more salt, bub.” He put the spoon back in the saucepan, taking a step back to let you work your magic.
“Okay, thanks. Do you think it needs anything else?” You moved to the side just a bit to grab the salt, your arm brushing his as you stretched.
He gave a small shake of his head, “Nah.” He moved to the cupboards to grab plates for the table. Small, casual conversation flowed easily between you two.
————————————————————————————————————————
When you weren’t in the kitchen, or your classroom, you could be found in the greenhouse. Your mutation helped largely with producing thriving fruits and vegetables. Beautiful flowers and vines practically overtaking the outside of the building. You made your way through the courtyard, a basket of freshly picked fruits and vegetables sat on your hip. The sounds of the children’s laughter echoing in the air. You raised your free hand to wave at Storm and Rogue, a beaming smile taking over your face when they yelled a hello your way. Dirt covered your hands, your boots not much better off. Your gloves stuck out the front pockets of your gardening apron, cheeks speckled with dirt from when you tugged on the small leaves of the precious foods and they gave way easier than expected.
“Good bunch today?” Logan asked as he pushed off the brick wall near the entrance of the large school, cigar between his lips.
“No smoking in the courtyard, Lo.” You slapped his hand away from the strawberries he set his sight on, “And don’t touch the fruit, it’s for the kids.”
He tsked a little before bringing his hand up to the cigar, “Ah, c’mon, bub. They look so good. You really know what you’re doin’ in there.”
“Okay, fine. Just one. I mean it, Logan.” You give him a pointed look, letting it be known you mean business. But, Logan catches the amusement in your eyes, letting him know he could probably get away with having two. So he does. Popping one in his mouth as you both go up the steps, he holds on in front of your mouth, letting you take it between your teeth.
“Mmm. You’re right, I do know what I’m doing.” You hum, savoring the sweet taste. Logan watches as your tongue darts from your mouth, licking the sweet juice that stained your lips a light shade of red.
“Yeah you do,” he mumbles out, eyes captivated by the swift movement.
“What?” Your eyes move to his.
“Nothin’. Come on, let’s get these washed up.” He opens the door, allowing you to duck under his arm as he follows you into the kitchen.
————————————————————————————————————————
A storm raged outside. Loud booms of thunder echoed through the school, and lightning flashed and illuminated the dimly lit common room you were sat in. A small fire was lit in the fireplace as a large blanket covered your pajama clad legs. Logan found you curled up on the couch, windows slightly open letting a small breeze in, and nose deep in a book.
“Hey,” you jumped at the sound of his voice, swiftly turning your head to see him leaning against the doorframe, “Sorry, bub, didn’t mean to scare ya. Mind if I join you?” You took in his attire. The usual white tank covered with a slightly unzipped hoodie, and a pair of grey sweats resting deliciously on his hips.
“Yeah, of course you can, Lo.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the soft atmosphere blanketing you both. Your hand patted the space right beside you as you shifted your legs so your feet rested on the ground. The larger man pushed off the doorframe and made his way to you. He lowered himself to sit next to you, and grabbed your legs to shift them over his lap. You settled yourself against him, splaying the blanket to cover the both of you while your back leaned on the armrest of the couch.
He ran his hands up and down your calves through the blanket, “What’re you readin’?”
“What the River Knows. It’s really good,” You blinked up at him.
“Tell me about it, bub.” Hands pulling you closer as you shiver at the slight breeze. As you explained the plot up to the point you’ve read, talking animatedly with your hands, Logan can’t help but to soften his eyes. You get so excited when you talk about things you love. Teaching, cooking and baking, working in the greenhouse or gardening, and now reading. Your voice was still hushed to keep the peace, but the enthusiasm was there all the same. He finds his eyes drifting over your face, lingering on your lips. Soft and plump, still etched in that permanent smile despite him knowing how tired you truly were. He nodded along as you spew, your love for the book coming out like a waterfall. He feigned shock when you revealed plot twists, or anger when you explained how pissed one of the main characters made you.
Logan’s fingers slightly dug into your flesh as you sat against him. He provided input where he saw fit, fingers dancing along your legs before holding you closer. His features totally relaxed as you rambled, “Sounds like a good book, sweetheart.”
You finally notice how close you two are, and your heartbeat slightly picks up while your breath hitches. He notices, of course he does. He can hear it thanks to his mutation. He quickly quirks his lips into a small smile seeing your flustered state. His fingers reach up to push some hair behind your ear, and your eyes move straight to his lips.
You don’t know who moved first, you or him. But the moment your lips touched, you find it didn’t matter. It was slow and languid, eyes falling closed. His hands slowly moved from your calves to your hips, encouraging you to straddle his lap. Your own hands slowly slid up his abdomen, one settling on his chest while the other traveled to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly on the hair at the base. Logan lets out a low groan at the tug, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. You fought for dominance, but in the end he won. Heavy breathing filled the air as you pulled back, his hands ran up and down your back as he pulled you a little closer. You gained the courage to look him in the eyes, finding him already looking at you.
“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re gorgeous.” He whispered, eyes filled with warmth as he ducked his head to kiss the skin where your shoulder meets your neck, his hair tickled your cheek.
“I really like you, Lo.” Your whisper met his ear as you leaned your head forward to rest on his chest, cheeks warm.
Logan squeezed you softly in response, “Me too, hon.”
You slowly sat up, fingers toying with the hair on his cheeks, making his face nuzzle into your palm, “Can you read to me?”
He let out a soft chuckle, “‘Course I can.”
You settled back into his lap, arms wrapped around one of his as he picked up where you left off. The rumble of his voice vibrated through his chest into your ear as your head rested on him. Your eyes flitted up to look at him every so often, and he’d look back at you, ready to press a soft, chaste kiss to your forehead.
Twenty minutes more of listening to his hushed reading, and you were out cold.
————————————————————————————————————————
When it came to Logan, most everyone knew he had burdens he kept under a tight lock. You saw the scars that ran over his skin. Sheets and mattresses with puncture wounds, and small tears in them. You’d seen them first hand folding his laundry when he forgot it in the dryer. You never pried, it wasn’t your business and if he wanted to talk to you about the horrors that kept him awake into the ungodly hours of the night, he would. In your mind (and pretty much everyone else's), his gruff exterior was a way of deflecting just how broken he really was. You admired his strong will and the way he was able to keep it under wraps in front of people. Most times.
For you it was a little harder. Logan could hear you on the nights where nighterrors plagued your dreams. The sniffles echoing down the hall and the way you'd shuffle about. Lamps being turned on, and books being moved until you found the one that would keep you company until dawn. In the morning, he’d ask you how you slept. You’d always reply with some sort of answer most people expect to hear, but the small bags under your eyes and the tired smile you’d give him were always a dead giveaway. But, just like you, he wouldn’t pry until you were ready. Luckily for the both of you, those nights happened to be far and few between.
Things were going good for you and Logan. Not much had changed in routine aside from a few more lingering stares, shared kisses, and naps thrown in here and there. You were in tune to each other, more communication when it came to feelings. That was exciting; hearing Logan express his love for you was something you thought you’d never get tired of and Logan felt the exact same. And, you didn’t get tired of hearing it. But, damn were you tired in general.
It was late. Classes long over, and kids in bed hours ago. Too scared to go to bed, you sat in your warm classroom, forcing yourself to find something to do. Your eyes were hazy as they reread the lesson plans for the next two weeks. Nightmares had been taking over the last few nights. Forcing you to find something to do rather than sleep comfortably. You rubbed at your eyes, debating on getting up and making yourself a cup of coffee, late hour be damned. Your limbs ached and your head felt as if it was damn near ready to explode. With your elbows propped on your desk, you let your head plop into your hands with a heavy sigh.
A soft knock lightly echoed through the room, causing you to slowly lift your head up. Logan stood by the door, a concerned frown and drawn eyebrows looked back at you. A sigh left his lips upon seeing the dark circles under your bloodshot eyes.
He promptly made his way to you with hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, “You’re exhausted, honey.” Logan wasn’t dumb, he knew you weren’t sleeping well. But, he was tired of waiting for you to come to him.
“I’m too scared to sleep,” Your voice barely a whisper. Tears welled in your eyes at the thought of sleeping only to awake alone. Logan lowered himself onto the edge of your desk, letting your head rest on his thigh. He put a hand on your head, and brushed your hair back. “Why didn’t you come to me, bub?” He all but cooed at you, voice soft yet firm.
“I don’t want to be a burden. You have your own problems too, Lo.” Your voice was muffled by the flesh of his thigh.
“A burden?” He tsked, “No, no, no, honey. I want you to come find me. No matter the time, or if I’m asleep. Wake me, okay?” His hand continued to work its way through your hair, a content sigh left your lips.
You whispered out, “Okay, but only if you find me too. Okay?”
“Okay,” he patted your head, “Time for bed, sleepyhead. Come on, I’ve got you.” He gently moved his hand from your head to your arm, giving a light tug to help you to your feet. The moment you stood, his hands found your cheeks forcing you to look up at him. A small pout was on your lips, tears still in your eyes. He cooed and moved his face closer to yours to give you a light kiss. His thumbs worked the tears off the apple of your cheeks, and he pulled back, “I love you, you know?”
“I know,” you nod. “I love you too.”
————————————————————————————————————————
a/n: thank you so much for reading <3
33 notes
·
View notes