Modern Love (Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader)

Modern Love (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey y'all! Here's something short and sweet. This is based on a request, so I hope the requester enjoys :) No song references here, but "Modern Love" by David Bowie seems appropriate. It's 80s, New Wave-y, and we're in an arcade in this fic, so it fits.

Summary: The team goes out to an arcade, and Logan is his usual grumpy self...but his soft spot for you is more clear than ever.

Warnings: Suggestive content (would totally write a second part with some true smut), tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, cursing, f!reader/afab!reader, grumpy!Logan, Jubilee is a cock block LOL, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,685 short and sweet indeed

“I do not want to be here,” Logan complains, rolling his eyes as the team strolls into the arcade. 

Jubilee skips inside, twirling with excitement. “Well, that’s just too bad, Logan!” She calls, running over to the arcade’s version of Dance Dance Revolution. Kurt is laughing, following at her heels. “Because everyone else is going to have a great time!” 

“Gambit’s winning big tonight,” Gambit says, taking Rogue’s hand in his. “Gambit’s winning chere a prize, he is.” Rogue blushes, letting Gambit pull her to one of the fake slot machines. 

Jean and Scott walk over to an older machine—Pac-Man or something similar, probably. Storm and Charles head towards the seating area near the snack bar in the back, leaving you and Logan to yourselves. Of course. You’re alone with Logan. The person you want but you know you can’t have. 

You’re friends—just friends. You’ve accepted that he’ll never see you as anything more, but it still hurts. 

“So…” You say, trailing off as Logan looks around the arcade. “Not your kind of place, huh?”

“Not particularly,” he says back, his eyes finding yours. You can’t help but smile at that stupid, grumpy look on his face. “You like this shit?” He asks, smiling back at you. 

You shrug your shoulders, noncommittal. “I think you’d have fun if you tried,” you say, nodding towards the crane machine, and walking over. You can hear Logan’s footsteps against the carpet, following you close behind.

You peer into the glass, looking at all the stuffed animals filling the machine. Your smile widens when you spot the cute little turtle in the back—green and brown, wide eyes, and extra plush and round. Logan leans against the machine, arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Which one are we going for?” He asks. We—you can’t help but replay the word in your head. There’s a “we” in this. You and Logan. 

You point to the turtle in the back row. “We’re going for that one,” you say, and his eyes find the green little thing. “Isn’t he cute?”

He shakes his head, grinning ear to ear, his grumpiness seemingly gone now. “Sure, princess, sure he is.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sound of the familiar pet name. You lean down to put a quarter in the machine, trying your best not to overthink the situation. The crane starts up, whirring to life, giving you three tries to win the stuffy. 

You maneuver the crane to the back row, just above the turtle. “Do you think that’s good?” You ask, looking towards Logan. But he isn’t looking at the machine; he’s looking at you, smirking. “What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes incredulously. 

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Logan says, his smirk unwavering. You can feel the heat rising to your chest as he peers into the machine. He nods, his eyes finding yours again, changing the subject before you can respond to his comment. “Looks good to me.”

You swallow nervously, pressing the button on the top of the stick, sending the crane down to the stuffy. It grabs the turtle, holding it up. It looks like it’s going to make it, but it falls in the center of the glass box. You groan, annoyed as the crane moves back to position. You try again, bringing the crane to the center of the machine, just above the turtle, and dropping it again. The silver claws grip the plushy, but it’s a bad grab—the turtle slipping right out of its grasp. 

 “Fucking rigged,” you mutter, moving the crane over the turtle for the final time. “This is it,” you say, looking at Logan. He’s suddenly shifting closer to you, standing behind you and pressing his front to your back. His arms rest on either side of the crane machine’s controls, caging you in. 

“Much better view from here,” he whispers at the shell of your ear. You’re distracted by how close he is. You can smell him—tobacco and pine and musk. “Let’s see if it works, princess.” This is too much. Far more than you can possibly handle. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes surveying the crane’s distance from the turtle carefully, and you press the button. The crane drops, grabbing the stuffy, and picking it up successfully. “Yes!” You say, looking back at Logan. His face is inches from yours. You can feel his breath fan across your lips. Your noses are so close, brushing together softly. He leans in, lips parted. 

“Game over!” A robotic, automated voice rings out, the crane whirling back into position. It snaps you back to reality, and you look inside the machine. There, off to the side just next to the machine’s drop box, is the turtle. 

“Shit,” you mumble, shoulders slumping with disappointment. You know it’s just a game, and you are an adult after all, but you can’t help the frown that forms across your face. “I really wanted him. I was gonna name him Bernie.”

Logan chuckles. “Bernie?” he asks, and you nod. He’s centimeters away from you again, leaning in. “Don’t sweat the loss, princess. You’re cuter than that little thing is anyw—"

“Look what Kurt and I got with our tickets!” Jubilee is suddenly in front of you, a stuffed, sparkly blue dinosaur in her hand. She’s tugging you away from Logan and across the arcade before you can protest. “You gotta dance with me!” You look back at Logan, who’s standing alone in front of the crane machine, arms tucked against his chest. 

Have fun, he mouths. And good luck. He winks at you as Jubilee whisks you off to Dance Dance Revolution. You let her pick the song, and you struggle through the round, your feet tapping to the beat. You and Jubilee are a laughing mess. You know you look absolutely ridiculous, but it’s fun. 

And yet, your mind still wanders to Logan. You think about how close he was to you, the way his lips practically brushed against yours—the ghost of a kiss. You think about the way he caged you in, pressed against your back. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize how badly you’re fumbling all the moves; you don’t hear Jubilee calling your name. 

“Hey!” She shouts, finally bringing you back to reality. The round is over; you missed the entire second half of the dance. “Where’d you go just there?” She asks, concern hidden within her smile.  

You look over to the crane machine, expecting to see Logan, but he’s gone. In fact, you can’t find him anywhere. “Sorry Jubes, but I gotta go see about something,” you say, stepping off the platform. 

Your eyes search the arcade. Gambit and Rogue are at the ticket redemption counter, picking out a big stuffed bear. Kurt is fooling around on one of those motorcycle racing games. Storm and Charles are—uncharacteristically—sharing a soft pretzel, while Jean and Scott share a milkshake. Everyone is here and accounted for except Logan. 

That is, until you notice the puff of smoke in the corner of the glass door at the front of the arcade. You smirk, walking towards the entrance and pushing the door open. 

Logan leans against the brick wall of the building, cigar in his mouth. His head turns towards you, and he immediately takes the cigar out, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the heel of his boot. 

“Hi,” you whisper, standing next to him. 

He looks down at you, smiling widely. “Hi.” He’s leaning in again—so close—and a shiver runs up your spine. “Cold?” He asks, shrugging out of his leather jacket before you have a chance to answer. He helps you into the jacket one arm at a time, his eyes drinking you in once it’s on, trailing up and down your body. “Looks good on you,” he hums. “Way better than it does on me.”

You shake your head, letting your shoulder brush against his. You look over at him and suddenly notice something green and round in his hand. “What’s that?” You ask. But you already know. You recognize the little brown spots and the wide eyes. 

Logan smirks, lifting the turtle up. “Couldn’t let you go home without him,” he says, holding it out towards you. 

“No way!” You shout, ignoring the turtle and throwing your arms around Logan’s neck. It’s instinctive, natural. He tugs you in closer, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Thank you so much,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. “I can’t believe you ended up playing a game at an arcade.” 

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers against your temple. The sudden vulnerability of his words makes your heart tighten in your chest. You stay like that for a while, his lips ghosting your forehead, your chests pressed together. You finally lift your head, looking up at Logan. 

“Lo?” You whisper, and his gaze meets yours, flitting between your eyes and your lips. He drops the plushy onto the bench next to him and walks you back into the brick wall, caging you in, hands on either side of your waist. 

He leans in. “Yeah, pretty girl?” He brings one hand to your hip, gripping gently. “What do you need?”

“Y-you,” you stutter. “I need y—"

His lips swallow your words, fitting against yours like a puzzle piece. The kiss is slow, languid, but you can feel his need in the way he moves against you, hands slipping underneath the borrowed jacket and your shirt to explore your skin. His fingertips drag along your back, relaxing you into his touch. 

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Logan mumbles against your lips. 

Your heart flutters in your chest. “But what about the others?” You ask, nodding to the arcade.

Logan smirks, stealing another kiss. “All the more reason to get back to the mansion before they do.”

“But how are we going to—”

He grips your waist, tugging you towards the parking lot. “I took my bike, pretty girl.”

Oh?

Oh. 

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie

Part 1: Honey, Don't Feed It...

Logan Howlett | Worst Wolverine x gn!Reader

Synopsis: Logan gets to know his next-door neighbor. Tags: Not Beta Read, Title From Hozier Song, It Will Come Back - Hozier, Next-Door Neighbor, Older Man/Younger Person, Reader Is Mid-20s, Logan Is 200, Reader Is Described As Shorter Than Logan, Gender-Neutral Pronouns For Reader, AFAB Reader, Fem Anatomy, Logan Is Down Bad, Horrendously Actually, He's A Little Pathetic, Alcohol Consumption, One-Sided Attraction, Not Actually One-Sided, Talks Of Masturbation, Part 2 Is Mostly Smut, Tags To Be Added Author's Note: happy to finally see hugh jackman getting the appreciation (simping) he deserves also i wanna gonna upload this in october, as it’s part of my kinktober challenge, but i wanna post it now too, so i’ll be adjusting the tags and stuff in 2 months :) Part 1 ❉ Part 2

Frustrated huffs filled the stairwell as Logan ascended to his apartment. 

Next was the jingle of keys, and curses that would make a sailor blush. It made him chuckle to himself as he reached his floor, not expecting the creator to be on his floor, attempting to get into the apartment next to his. 

He knew someone lived next to him, but he’d never met them. Guess now was a better time than any to make introductions, saying it had been a few weeks since he’d moved in. Your back was to him, piles of groceries in your arms, which was the source of your difficulties as you tried and failed to unlock your door. “Motherfucker…” he heard you grumble, adjusting the groceries that nearly slid out of your arms. 

“You need some help with that?”

You, understandably, jumped, the keys that were once in your hands hitting the floor with a thud. The items in your arms were about to meet the same fate, but you managed to get a hold of them just in time, spinning to face Logan. He had stepped closer to you, yet still kept a good amount of distance, not wanting to scare the shit out of you further.

Wary eyes scanned him before recognition flashed across your features, your tense state relaxing as you deemed him not a threat. He took that as the go-ahead to step closer, keeping his stance casual, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. “Let me help ya,” he repeated, no longer offering it as a question. 

“You don’t have to.”

“Please. It’s the least I can do after making it fifty times harder.”

That made you chuckle, a soft noise that made the corners of his lips curl up. “Fair enough,” you took a step back, letting him step into the space beside you to bend down and pick up the keys. “Thank you.”

Waving off your thanks, he thumbed through the various keys on the ring, stopping when he reached one that looked like his. Upon your nod of approval, he stuck it into the door. Tocked turned, but the deadbolt didn’t retract, which elicited a frustrated sigh from you. “It’s been doin’ that for months. If it’s the tiniest bit humid out, or if the universe just fuckin’ hates me that day, it’ll get stuck. You just gotta-” he watched as you jolted your body at the door, a faux shoulder check, “as you turn the key.”

Knowing he would most likely break your door if he bashed his shoulder against it, he opted to just tap it lightly, or at least his version of lightly. It didn’t take a lot of effort for him, the door opening with a creak as the deadbolt finally retracted. With a relieved noise, you entered your apartment, dumping the groceries on the first available surface as Logan pulled the key from the door. 

“God, I owe you one,” you exhaled, returning to Logan who stood in the doorway. “Thank you…” you trailed off, an unspoken question. 

“Logan.” He stuck out his hand, hating the way he hesitated momentarily, hand flinching back.

If you caught it, he had no idea. A warm smile crept across your face as you took his hand, giving him your own name in return. Your hand was warm, gentle in his grip, soft fingers dragging across his palm as you pulled your hand away. It nearly made him shiver. 

Repeating your name, he took this moment to let his eyes wander, to take in your features. He wasn’t blind; you were stunning. The kind of stunning you see out of the corner of your eye, that stops you right in your tracks. The kind of pretty that you remember, that sticks in your mind like a parasite. 

You were shorter than him, but that didn’t surprise him; he towered over most people. But he wouldn’t deny that something primal in him loved the fact that he was taller than you. He stopped his mind from wandering further, but the idea warmed his blood, an inaudible inhale pulled through his nose.

And when you grinned, a bashful laugh escaping your lungs at the way he whispered your name, he couldn’t help but smile in return. He felt like a goddamn kid, stumbling in front of his crush like a fool. But he kept a calm face, ignoring the way his heart began to patter in his chest. 

“You must be Wade’s new roommate, then.”

That caught his attention. “You talk to him, then?”

“More like he talks at me,” you muttered, making Logan chuckle lightly. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“I was just trying to do my laundry in peace, kept talking about multiverses and ‘Void’ and TVA, and then you. Thought he’d gotten into Al’s stash. Again. Guess I was the fool for not believing him,” you gestured to Logan. 

“Unfortunately, he was tellin’ the truth.”

You hummed curiously, an inquisitive glint in your eye that he couldn’t decide if he liked or not. You opened your mouth, about to speak, before loud yowling from behind you cut you off, making you turn away from him. It was like he could breathe properly again, without the heat of your gaze. 

“Maize,” you admonished, yet with no real bite as you watched the cat that snuck between your legs. It was a brown tabby, on the smaller side, yet with the largest ears he’d ever seen on a cat. In response, the feline let out another yowl, making you shake your head. 

“Maize? As in-”

“Corn, yes. I found her in a cornfield, back a few years ago on a road trip. Silly name, I know. Isn’t that right, Maize?”

Maize meowed in response, not even glancing at Logan. 

“You’re five minutes late to giving them dinner, and they act like you’re starving them.” You sighed melodramatically. 

“Sounds like a roommate.”

“Wade gets on his hands and knees and meows and screams at you until you give him food?” You paused, reconsidering your question. “Actually, it wouldn’t surprise me if he does.” He chuckled when you shuddered at the idea. “I’ll take the cat over… that.”

“If I could do the same, I would.”

“I’m sure there’s something you could do to change that. Though I figure he’d find a way to still talk your head off, even without human vocal cords.” Once again, you paused, this time a flicker of self-consciousness flashed across your face. “And here I am, talking your head off. As if you don’t have enough of that at your place.”

Strangely enough, Logan felt disappointed that the conversation was ending, instead of the usual relief he felt. “You’re doin’ nothin’ of the sort. Promise.”

You seemed to believe him, relief replacing self-consciousness, your lips turning into a soft smile. The sight made his stomach flip. “I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you again, for earlier. It was nice to finally meet you, Logan.”

Once again, he waved off your thanks. “It was nothin’. I’ll see you around?” He hoped he didn’t sound desperate. He used to be so suave, back when he was younger. He used to have everyone wrapped around his finger, them waiting for his next word with bated breath. Now he second-guessed everything he said, praying that he wasn’t crossing a line. He hated it. 

Thankfully, you didn’t seem put off by his question. In fact, a small smile, one softer than all the rest crept up your face, your voice hushed as you responded. “I’ll see you around. Have a good night, Logan.”

He already loved hearing you say his name, even though it didn’t feel worthy to be utter by your lips. You said it like it wasn’t something tainted, scorned, shameful. It was a clean slate, he realized. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He hadn’t even registered that he’d let the petname slip until after he shut the door, squeezing his eyes shut and regretting every decision he’d ever made. That was until he heard a soft oh being whispered from the other side of the door, and he exhaled a sigh of relief, grateful that he hadn’t royally fucked everything up on the first introduction. 

He felt strange as he walked back to his apartment, a weird confidence in his system that he hadn’t felt in years. There was a small smile on his face when he walked in, one that did not go unnoticed by Wade, who was sitting on the couch when he walked in. 

He thought he could slip to his room unnoticed. How wrong he was. 

“What’s got you smiling like that?” A gasp left him. “Did you finally get laid?”

And just like that, his smile vanished. It was funny, how quickly Wade could do that.

“Shut the fuck up,” he glared at the merc, who looked like a cat who caught the canary. 

“You didn’t say no though,” he responded in a sing-song manner. “So, who’s the lucky girl? Or guy? Or person? Hell, it doesn’t even have to be a human, though I would prefer it if you keep the beast-”

“I didn’t get laid,” Logan ran an exasperated hand over his face. “Because you need to know, I met our neighbor,” he gestured with his head to the apartment next door.

Wade said your name, and he nodded in confirmation, something he immediately regretted when a shit-eating smirk appeared on his scarred face. “And they’ve got you smiling like you’ve just gotten the best fucking head in your life.”

“They didn’t-”

“You wished they did, though,” he waggled his non-existent brows, and Logan was silent for a second too long. “Ah, you’ve got a crush, you old sap!”

“You realize how fucking childish that sounds?”

Wade clicked his tongue. “And, once again, your lack of denial is very telling. I can’t blame you though. They’re quite the catch.” A loud wolf whistle cut through the air. “We used to have a thing, back in the day.”

“You… did?”

“Well, it was more of me flirting and asking them out, and them shutting me down every time. But it was romantic.” A dramatic, dreamy sigh escaped Wade before he raised a brow at Logan’s tense stance. “Ooh, did the idea of me touchin’ them upset you? Jealousy is a good look on you, peanut. The green looks good with all that yellow you wear.” He paused. “Or is it possessiveness? You know, a lot of people find that attractive.”

Wade’s ability to take one small thing and blow it out of proportion stunned him. He was truly at a loss for words, but luckily he was talking to the guy who never ran out of them. “So what are you doing here?”

“Whaddya mean?”

Wade sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why aren’t you over at their place, you know-” crude finger motions followed his words, and if he weren’t so used to it, he would’ve been embarrassed. “I’ve been dying to hear them get some action. They’ve gotta be lonely, just them and their cat. They’re a bit young to be going full ‘old crazy cat lady’.”

“And that’s just the reason.” Wade cocked his head to the side. “They’re young. Fuck, I’m old enough to be their dad, at least.”

“And that’s an issue because?” Logan was about to respond but was quickly cut off by the other man. “Look, are they a fully matured, consenting adult?”

He didn’t know your age, but if he had to guess, you were somewhere in your mid-twenties. So, he nodded to Wade’s question. 

“Do you hold authority over them? Are you their teacher, their boss, fuckin’ parole officer?”

He nodded no, furrowing his brows. 

“Did they seem put off by you, uncomfortable in any way? Reaching for weapons, looking for ways to escape, threatening you?”

“Is that from experience?”

“Just answer the question,” he responded through a forced smile, teeth gritted. 

“No, they didn’t.”

“Ding ding ding!” Wade chirped, the furrow between Logan’s brow deepening at the noise. “You’ve passed my ‘Am I A Pervert?’ test with flying colors! I’m fresh out of gold stars, though. But you are clear to go get ‘em!”

“I think we’re gettin’ a bit ahead of ourselves,” Logan backtracked. “I’ve just met them.”

“And whose fault is that, you reclusive fuck?” Yet again, he wasn’t given a chance to respond. “Now’s the chance to talk to them! And then-” crude fingers once again were demonstrated by the other man. 

He walked away at this point, shaking his head at Wade’s “advice”. Guilt ate away at him for thinking and talking about you the way they had; he had to put an end to it. You deserved far better, anyway. 

Yet he found his traitorous mind still wandering to you for the rest of the night, a feeling of longing that he hadn’t felt in so long. 

He was fucked. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He had a job now, working in construction in the city. It had been some time since he’d had a “normal” job, but he liked the structure of it. The purpose it brought. And sure, his other skills were used from time to time, but there weren’t any world-ending threats that needed to be taken care of right now. For right now, he got to pretend that he was just Logan. 

Because of his job, it meant that he was out the door before the sun rose, and back home late, different from the 9-to-5 schedule that most other people followed. Up until now, he loved it; he didn’t have to see people as he walked down the hallway, traffic wasn’t busy, and he got to just keep his head down and walk. 

He hated it now. It was ridiculous, the way his eyes now wandered to your door as he passed it, hoping to catch a glimpse of you again. It had been about five days since your initial introduction, and he’d yet to run into you again.

It was another late night as he climbed up the apartment complex’s stairs. If he was any other man, his muscles would've ached from a hard day’s work, but the only exhaustion he could feel was in his mind; it was tiring, getting ordered around all day.

As he reached his floor, the jingling of keys caught his attention, and he was unable to hide the smile on his face when he heard your voice. Making sure his boots stopped against the stairs, he rounded the bend and was met with the sight of you once again trying to get into your apartment, your hands free of any groceries this time.

“You really ought to get that lock replaced.”

He didn’t scare you this time, thankfully. “I’ve put in a request, but that was at least a month ago,” you sighed.

“I could replace it for you.” It slipped out so easily, not even having to think about offering you his help.

You blinked at him, clearly not expecting it. “You… you don’t have to do that.”

“Maybe not. But I’m offering.”

He watched as you tried the lock again but to no avail. It seemed to finalize your decision, a heavy sigh leaving you. “You really would? I… I’ll pay you back. For the new lock.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I’ve got it covered.”

Instead of simply hearing your reaction, he got to see the way your eyes widened and then ducked down to avoid his glance. You bit back a smile, though he could still see the corners of your lips curl up, your attempt unsuccessful. “Then at least let me make you dinner, or something,” you countered. 

He could hear the warning bells going off in his mind. He was getting too close; you deserved far better than an old mutant like him. Not to mention the fact that you were still so young. But he was already caught up in the idea of spending some time alone with you, and his heart answered before his mind could. Besides, this wasn’t going to be romantic. He could just be friends with you. Right? “It’s a deal, then.”

He wasn’t expecting you to stick out your hand, but he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself a chance to feel you again. “It’s a deal,” you agreed as he shook your hand. You were still so gentle, barely squeezing his hand; it had been so long since he’d been treated that way.  “Say, you wanna get me into my apartment?” You asked, and he pulled his hand away as you presented your keys with your hand. They jingled as you wiggled them, and he caught a glimpse of a small cat keychain. Cute. 

My apartment is always open, is what he would've said if he, A, lived alone, and B, not still worried about crossing a line. Instead, he kept his mouth shut as he grabbed the keys, playfully rolling his eyes as it was the most laborious task he’d ever been asked to do. That made you giggle, a soft “Thank you, Logan,” being uttered. Screw his job; this made him feel of use, purposeful. Even if it was to just get your door open. He almost wished he didn’t offer to fix the lock, just so that you’d come to him whenever you needed to get in. 

Just like the first time, it only took a light tap from his shoulder as he turned the key for the door to open. “You make it look so easy.” Your eyes ran over his body, across the broad expanse of his shoulders, down his muscular arms, to his forearms that peeked out from beneath his flannel. It was subtle, but your eyes widened a fraction, a reaction that really shouldn’t have made him feel as good as it did. 

He just shrugged, pretending like your not-so-subtle ogling didn’t get his heart hammering. Holding the door open, you ducked beneath his outstretched arm, pulling the keys from the door as you did. “I’ll come and fix it tomorrow.”

Your widened eyes narrowed; he realized you’d momentarily forgotten about his offer, too distracted by him. God, you weren’t even doing anything on purpose, and you’ve got him losing his mind. “I’m lookin’ forward to it.” He could tell you were sincere, a dazzling smile on your face. “See you soon, Logan.”

Your smile was the last thing he saw before he shut the door behind you.

To say he was distracted at work the next day would be an understatement. 

He was a grown-ass man, yet he was as excited as a kid on Christmas when he walked home, stopping by a store to pick up the new deadbolt lock. But beyond the excitement, he could feel his nerves, buzzing and alight after years of dormancy. He then had to remind himself that this wasn’t a date; this was purely platonic. He was just being a good neighbor. Still, that didn’t stop the small shake in his hand as he raised it and knocked on your door. 

For a moment, he worried that you weren’t home after about a minute passed without a response. But just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open, and you stood looking a bit disheveled on the other side. “Sorry,” you panted, “had to wrangle Maize into my bedroom. Don’t want her dashing out while the door’s open.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

With that, you stepped back into your apartment, wordlessly letting Logan in. Stepping in, he glanced around at the new surroundings, at the space you called yours. Blankets and pillows adorned the couch in the living room on the right, and your kitchen on the left. He saw a pot on the stove and could hear the rapid popping of bubbles as the water in it boiled. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, something that made his stomach rumble. 

“Do you wanna eat before or after?”

Ah, the lock. Glancing at the plastic bag in his hand, as well as a few tools he’d grabbed, he shrugged. “It shouldn’t take me too long. Ten minutes, max.”

“That’s how long the pasta needs to cook for, so after, then.” You paused a flicker of disbelief on your face. “Only ten minutes?”

“Yeah, about. Why?”

You shook your head, chuckling softly. “You’d think with the way they ignored my request that it would've taken fifty years, but it’s that quick?” Shaking your head again, you turned into the kitchen, your back now to Logan. He took this time to glance around your place, your decorations, the pictures you had framed on the wall. “Thank you, again.”

He was getting distracted. “You don’t gotta keep thanking me, sweetheart,” he responded, making his way to the door and opening it. The sound of splashing water hit his ears as you added the water, slightly louder than what would’ve been expected. It was as if your hands slipped as you poured the pasta. 

He got to work, then, easily able to unscrew and remove the faulty deadbolt lock, setting it aside to be discarded later. He was just about to start installing the new one when he heard you drag out a chair and sit in it, presumably at the table in the kitchen as you waited for the pasta to cook. He could feel your eyes on him, but he found that he didn’t mind. Not at all. 

About of minute of silence passed, the sound of bubbling water filling the air. “You replace a lot of locks?”

“Not a frequent pastime of mine, no. But I’m good with my hands.” 

He caught the double meaning too late, grateful that his back was turned so that you couldn’t see his reaction. But that meant he couldn’t see yours, a cruel price to pay. He knew that if he concentrated, he could’ve used his enhanced senses to know, yet something about that made him feel dirty. 

“You a handyman, then?” He swore your voice was airier than it was before, but maybe he was being delusional.

“Close. Construction.”

“That explains it…”

“Explains what?”

“Your… muscles. It makes sense, then.”

He realized then that you probably had no idea who he was. Who he truly was. He was unsure if a version of him lived on this Earth, and if that version had been a mutant like him. Or maybe they were just a regular human, woven into the thread of society, instead of sticking out like a frayed string. In response to you, he just grunted noncommittally.

“You’re not just a construction worker, are you?”

He stilled, damn near dropping his screwdriver. 

“No offense to construction workers, but I don’t think Wade would’ve dragged one around on his ‘adventure’ if there wasn’t something else to them.”

He turned his head to look at you now and was met with your back as you stirred the pot. But upon his extended silence, you too turned a frown on your lips. “Sorry, that was too much. I- I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer that.”

The thing was, he wanted to answer you, something he’d never wanted to do before. There was nothing he hated more than questions, but when they came from you, he found that he didn’t mind them. Yet he had no clue how you would react to the truth, and he’d be pissed at himself if he scared you off. “You’re not… wrong,” he began. “I…”

“You don’t have to answer me now. Or ever. But, I should have you know, it probably won’t be the strangest thing I’ve heard. There’s been a lot of crazy shit the last ten years, let’s just say.”

Grateful for the topic change, he resumed screwing the new lock into place. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

You weren’t kidding. The next couple of minutes were filled with you telling him about the various takeovers and attacks on the city and across the world. There was Loki, Ultron, and then something called “The Blip”, just to name a few. “Maybe that explains the cheap rent.”

By this time, he had installed the new lock, making his way to the kitchen. It caught him off guard, how domestic it felt, a deep pining for a life he’d never had, and would never have. It was nice to imagine, though. It had only been about seven minutes, beating the food’s timer. The jangling of keys caught your attention, turning away from the stove to glance at Logan. “Done already?”

He nodded, holding out your new keys. “Go ‘head and try it.”

The smile on your face was infectious as he dropped the keys into your outstretched palm. When you closed the door, he locked it, and even though he trusted his work, he was still relieved to hear the smooth click as the deadbolt retracted, without you having to slam your shoulder in the door. 

Your giddy laughter is what he heard when you came back in, and knowing he was the cause of it made his pride swell. “God, I know you don’t want me to say it again, but thank you. Go on, sit,” you gestured to the table, “You’ve done more than enough for me today.”

The yowling of a cat cut into the conversation, followed by the scratching of wood as Maize pawed at the bedroom door. “Should probably let her out now. Don’t want her to tear apart my stuff,” you muttered to yourself, about to step away to do so.

“I’ve got it.” 

“Logan-”

“I’ve got it,” he repeated, not leaving any room for argument.

You conceded rather quickly, a huff of air leaving you. “Alright. It’s the first door on the left,” you pointed down to the small hallway. “Th-”

A brow raise from him was all it took to get you to stop your unnecessary thanks, a bashful smile appearing on your lips. Shaking his head with a small laugh, he followed your directions, opening up your bedroom.

Immediately, the small brown tabby stuck her head out the door, hesitating when she realized it wasn’t her owner on the other side. A small, pink nose sniffed, large ears flicked back as she took in the unfamiliar scent, her hackles raising slightly. 

Bending down, Logan offered a hand to the feline, who inspected it with weary eyes. But when he didn’t make a move, Maize relaxed some, extending her head so that she could sniff his hand. After a few moments, her ears flicked back up, hackles lowered, and he took that as the go-ahead to pet her. 

Maize let him pet her for all of ten seconds, before scampering out the door and disappearing to somewhere in the apartment. “Are you a cat person, Logan?” He heard you ask as he made his way back to the kitchen. The pasta, spaghetti, he now saw, had been drained, and you were currently dishing up servings for both of you. 

Finally sitting, he flashed you a grateful smile when you set a plate down in front of him, but no matter how badly his hungry stomach wanted to, he didn’t dig in yet. “Not particularly. But I don’t mind ‘em.”

With a hum that made it seem like you didn’t quite believe his indifference, you quickly finished setting the table, setting your own plate opposite of his. “You want something to drink? I’m afraid I don’t have a lot of variety, I… I don’t get a lot of guests.”

It was at that moment Wade’s words came trickling back into his mind. You lived alone, that much was clear, but it seemed there wasn’t anyone sharing your company. It sparked a bit of hope in his chest, something he immediately stomped out. This didn’t mean anything, as much as he wanted it to. 

“You got whiskey?”

He expected the shake of your head. “I’ve got a bottle of red wine that’s covered in cobwebs. Can’t guarantee it’s anything spectacular.”

“If that’s what you’re having, then I’ll take it too.”

Before long, two glasses of wine joined the plates, and you were about to seat yourself before Logan stood, pulling out your chair. He hadn’t lost all of his manners, it seemed. Your wide eyes crinkled as you smiled, not expecting him to help you in, but letting him do so nonetheless. 

A comfortable silence fell over you two as you began to eat, something that was broken by an appreciative noise from Logan. You paused mid-bite, your expression unreadable. “Is it good?”

“Delicious,” he responded. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper meal like this?”

A flicker of relief flashed across your face. “You don’t cook much?”

“Fuckin’ terrible at it. Don’t have much time for it, anyway.”

“Well, I always make too much, so if you’re ever hungry…”

How could he tell you there was a different hunger festering in his gut, something that only you could satiate? “You’re spoiling me,” is what he said instead. “I might just have to take you up on that.”

“Please do.”

The rest of dinner was filled with comfortable chatter, questions being asked on both sides. He learned more about you, your job, where you went to school, where you grew up. And with every sentence that left your lips, he found that little “crush”, as Wade called it, sinking its claws deeper into his heart, sharper than the ones in his hands. 

You were so animated when you talked, your eyes lighting up when Logan implored further like you couldn’t really believe that he cared. You were interesting, yet in a normal person's way. It had been so long since he simply talked with someone who wasn’t like him, who wasn’t enhanced, mutated, whatever. He found he rather enjoyed it, and not just because it was you, although that part did help significantly.

The conversation continued even after the plates were empty and the wine drunk. He found it so easy to talk to you. There weren’t any expectations, any judgments, nothing like that. You were innocently curious, with no ulterior motive behind your questions. You just wanted to get to know him. He was fully prepared for you to ask more about him not just being a construction worker, but you never asked. He couldn’t tell if it relieved him.

He also couldn’t tell if you wanted more. 

Sure, your eyes wandered as he spoke, running over his exposed skin, where his flannel and shirt didn’t cover. And when he did eventually shrug off his top layer, resting in on the chair back behind him, he watched as your eyes jumped to his arms, trying your damnest to be subtle. 

But he just wasn’t sure. Would you recoil if he were to brush against your fingers, where your hand sat outstretched on the table? Would you be uncomfortable, disgusted, if he were to cross that line? Would this whole thing crash and burn before it even left the ground? Was this even a thing?

So he kept his desire locked tight, some of it escaping in small compliments and light, teasing remarks. And he spent the rest of the night wondering what if.

But eventually, like all good things, the night had to end. He hadn’t even realized how late it was until you yawned, stretching back on the couch the two of you had migrated to. You sat on one end, Logan on the other, a full cushion’s distance between you, which was occupied by a cat. You rested your back against the armrest, knees tucked up into your chest, reaching down to mindlessly pet Maize. 

Glancing over at the clock on the stove, he cursed. “Shit, I didn’t even realize how late it was.” He wasn’t kidding, having gotten so caught up talking with you. To him, it only felt like an hour had passed, at most. 

But he now saw the way your eyes drooped, though there was still a small smile on your face, one that hadn’t really faltered the entire night. “It’s alright. I didn’t either,” you chuckled, leaning back as you stretched. He had to force his eyes to your face so that he didn’t watch the way your shirt rode up. “God, I haven’t talked that long in… years.”

“Me neither. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten fuckin’ sick of the sound of my voice.”

“Nah, I don’t think that’s possible. You… never mind.” The way your eyes widened, he realized you were about to say more than you intended.

Well, now he was curious. And the tiniest bit hopeful. “You…?” 

You weren’t looking at him anymore, staring holes into your cat. “You have a nice voice,” you whispered, barely audible. 

Logan has heard enough pick-up lines, enough flirtatious remarks to fill up a book, yet none of them got his body warming like your simple compliment. Sure, you weren’t confident in your delivery, but it was honest, not just said to get him in your bed. “You think so?” He hadn’t meant to pitch his voice lower, but he knew you weren’t complaining. 

You had lifted your head more upon not hearing his rejection of your compliment, and he watched as your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nervous. “Yeah,” your voice was breathy, but he couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or desire. 

He wanted to touch you. He craved it more than any cigar, any drink. His fingers twitched from where his arm sat slung over the back of the couch, and he watched as your eyes flicked to them. But he didn’t move, no matter how badly he wanted to. The ball was in your court now. 

“I-I should probably let you get home.”

He tried to not feel the sting of rejection. You probably should, before something happens that you’ll regret. “Yeah, okay.” With a tense smile, he eased himself up from the couch, you following behind him, the cat by your feet now glaring angrily at you for disturbing her rest. 

Picking up his flannel from the dining chair, he felt your eyes on him as he moved, everything about your demeanor now uncertain. But he didn’t push it; you made your choice for tonight, and he’d never force you to choose otherwise, no matter how much he wished you would. 

It was when he stood in your doorway that he finally turned to face you. “Thank you, for dinner,” he smiled, this one less forced. “And for the company.”

“I should be the one thanking you, but I know you’d just tell me I’ve thanked you enough,” you chuckled, some of the tension dissipating. “I… I had a good time tonight.”

“I wasn’t kidding, earlier. I’d like… you’re welcome over, anytime. For whatever reason.”

And just like that, that little flicker of hope that he’d held the entire night reignited. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

That made you grin. “Good. I’m home pretty much every night, so don’t be afraid to knock. I’ll see you later, Logan.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

He liked the way you ducked your head when you were a bit embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

It was nearly midnight when he arrived home, getting the shit scared out of him when Wade sat up, Frankenstein-style, from the couch. “Fuck,” he grumbled, retracting his claws back into his hand, though he considered slashing into the other man for startling him. The only thing that held him back was that he didn’t want to have to clean the blood out from the couch. Again. 

“Earth to Logan,” Wade knocked against his own head. “Anyone home?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t dignify him with a response. Wade, of course, didn’t like that, jumping from the couch and cutting Logan off as he tried to head to his room. “What’s got you so distracted?” Wade continued. “Maybe a certain… neighbor?”

He really needed to get better at not hesitating before he responded, Wade’s eyes widening as Logan’s lack of response answered yet another question. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” An almost victorious laugh left him, punching Logan in the shoulder. He didn’t budge, a scowl appearing on his face, which was almost like a second skin. 

Despite what an outsider might think, Logan didn’t hate Wade. He would never admit it, but he rather enjoyed the eccentric man’s company; he was opposite to him in so many ways, offering a new perspective. He’s talked about many a subject with Wade, and never once had there been a topic that he didn’t want Wade’s input on. 

Until now. 

He couldn’t stand the fact that Wade was talking about you, talking about his “relationship” with you. Maybe Wade was right. Maybe he was possessive. But for once in his life, he wanted something that was just his. He wanted to create something without the help of others, something without outside influence. 

But he was never good with his words. And he was certain that Wade would never let it go if he tried to explain why he hated hearing your name leave his mouth. So he just grumbled a familiar, “Fuck off,” hoping Wade got the message.

Wade, as he should’ve expected, didn’t get it. Or he just chose to ignore the warning in his voice. Either way, Wade continued on like Logan hadn’t uttered a word. “You were over at their place, weren’t you?” 

There were some days he swore that Wade could read his mind. “I was fixing their door,” was what he finally muttered, indirectly agreeing to his question. 

“And that took,” Wade glanced down at his wrist, which was notably absent of any watch, “Almost five hours? Didn’t realize rearranging their-”

“For the love of- there was none of that. I fixed their door, they made me dinner, and then we talked.” He didn’t dare mention that he had been on your couch, your compliment still ringing in his ears. 

“Talked?”

“Yes.” A scoff from Wade made him scowl. “What?”

“Did you lose your balls in the Void? You didn’t make a single move? Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“It wasn’t like that. They don’t-”

“Oh, but they do. God, I forgot all your stats were put into strength, you dense fucker. People don’t spend hours talking to someone they're not interested in. And they don’t just make dinner for anyone.” He paused. “What did they make, anyway?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Pasta.”

“With wine?”

A singular nod. 

It nearly startled him, the bark of laughter that left Wade. “Oh, my sweet summer child,” two scarred hands now rested on Logan’s cheeks, and he was too confused to brush them off. “They wanna fuck you.”

That snapped Logan out of his confused daze, slapping Wade’s hands away with more force than was necessary. It wasn’t like he could do lasting damage, anyway. “Those have no correlation, you dumbass.”

“Uh, have you ever seen The Lady and the Tramp? You know, the one with the two dogs, and then the spaghetti, and then they fu-”

“I don’t think that’s how the movie goes-”

Wade waved him off. “What I’m trying to say is that they made, like, the most romantic dinner for you, and you didn’t think that they wanted you?”

This was another reason why he shouldn’t talk to Wade about this; he was getting his hopes up. With a huff, he shoved past Wade, who, thankfully, let him go. At least, only a few feet.

“Did they invite you back?”

He debated ignoring him, but the serious tone Wade had taken intrigued him. “Yeah, whenever I want.”

“And do you plan on it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Don’t lose this. Don’t lose them. You… you’ll regret it.” There was a pause, the fresh familiarity to Wade’s words made him stumble. But just as that sincerity appeared, it vanished, Wade clapping his hands together. “Well, I’ll be sure to steer clear of your door tonight, while you work out your… frustrations. Sweet dream, peanut.”

Logan just grumbled something in response, failing to see the small, rare frown that pulled at Wade’s lips, and failing to notice the way his words had fallen flat, how forced they’d seemed. He was too caught up in his own thoughts, the events of the night playing on repeat in his mind.

He doesn’t even remember getting ready for bed that night. He was suddenly in his bed, which felt colder than it had ever felt before, too large for his body alone. And his mind would shut up, no matter how much he pleaded with it to be silent.

Was Wade right? Had you wanted more? Do you still want more? Or had his cowardice driven you to believe that he wasn’t interested? If he knocked on your door right now and explained himself, would you let him in, or slam the door back on his face? If he had made a move, would things have played out differently? Would he have not spent the night alone, then?

Not only were questions bouncing around freely, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you. How sweet you’d been, almost sickly, enough to make his teeth rot. Your gentle smile, the one that made fucking butterflies erupt in his stomach. Your laugh, fuck, your laugh was addicting. And it was even more so when he was the one who caused it. 

Wade was wrong. His mind didn’t wander to improper images conjured up by a lustful mind, even though he expected him to. No, the images that repeated in his mind were completely innocent, yet the tension building in his abdomen, the tightening of his pants told another story. You hadn’t even done anything to elicit this kind of reaction, yet here he was, like a horny fucking teenager. He felt pathetic, honestly. 

It would be so easy, to sneak a hand down, to pretend like his hand was yours, and relieve that ache. But as soon as he began to inch his fingers downward, guilt hit him like a goddamn train. He’d never be able to look you in the eye if he fucked his fist to the thought of you. It was wrong, to say the least. He barely knew you, and no matter how much his heart wanted to believe that you wanted him, he still didn’t know.

Clenching his hands so hard that his nails tore into the flesh of his palm, he flipped over in his bed with a pained noise, but not because of the self-inflicted injury. Longing cut deeper than any wound that had ever torn his body, and guilt was the salt to it. 

He didn’t sleep well that night.

You Sing Neteyam His Mother’s Songcord In Order To Calm Him Down (SFW)

Reader is Fem! Omaticaya

CW: fluffy angst, Neteyam is angry with his father, reader is such a good girlfriend ( you two are promised but haven’t mated yet ), kenten is the swirling gecko from the first movie, atokirina are the little floating seeds.

“Why must I always take responsibility for his actions?! I may be the older brother, but that does not mean I should be the one punished!” Neteyam vented, angrily skipping a rock across the bioluminescent water of the river.

“Have you tried telling your father this? Maybe he’ll listen,” you softly suggested, trying to give some sort of comfort to him.

You hadn’t seen Neteyam this mad in a long time.

He and Lo’ak were supposed to be lookouts for the most recent raid on the Sky people, but, like usual, Lo’ak rushed in without thinking and ended up getting them both grounded.

A lot of good that was doing seeing Neteyam sneaked out to meet you.

“Of course I have! But he never listens! He treats me and Lo’ak like soldiers. We are not family to him. For Eywa’s sake, I have to call him sir!” Neteyam exclaimed, roughly running a hand through his braids.

In a yell of frustration, he walks over to the tree you were resting against and punches it with all his might, leaving a fairly sized dent.

The vibrations shook you to your core, and was your wake up call to calm him down before he did something rash.

“Mawhey, Neteyam. Don’t let your anger crowd you reason,” you said with furrowed brows, your stern tone snapping him out of it.

No matter how mad, there was no reason to strike the tree.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking down at the ground with balled fists.

You sighed, replacing your frown with a smile and holding out your hand to him.

“Come,” you beckoned, any trace of scolding now gone.

He huffed, begrudgingly taking your hand, letting out an oof when you roughly yanked him down to the ground, placing his head in your lap.

“(y/n), what are you doin-?” “Hush,” you shushed, placing a finger to his lips.

He kept quiet, and you moved a stray braid out his face, fixing your shoulders against the tree so you were comfy.

“Lie si oe Neteyamur. Nawma sa’nokur, mìfa oeyä,” you sang, running your fingers through his hair so softly, it made Neteyam almost loathe the way he did it earlier.

He looked up at you awestruck, surprised and confused as to how you knew the song his mother sang to him throughout his childhood, the memories that came flooding back washing away all the anger he held before.

“Atanti ngal molunge, mìpa tìreyti, mìpa tìkanti,” you continued, turning towards the beautiful river that stood next to you.

It was all so tranquil. Your voice, the flowing water, the head massage. 

He was soon forgetting why he was so angry in the first place.

“Lawnol a mì te’lan. Lawnol a mì te’lan,” you both looked up to see a kenten jump off from higher branch, it’s frills unfurling as it calmly floated down to the ground.

“Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe, tonìri tìreyä. Ngaru irayo seiyi ayoe, Srrìri tìreyä.”

Neteyam could feel his head nodding, his eyelids becoming impossibly heavy. 

And looking at you…you were ethereal. Smiling and glowing, beaming down like rays of pure sunlight.

All for him.

And that’s when he saw a flurry of atokirina descending from above.

You noticed his change in expression and looked up as well, only to see the seeds circling the both of you, hanging in the air like stars right before your eyes.

“Ma Eywa, Ma Eywa,” you finished, a soft smile gracing your lips as an atokirina landed in the palm of your hand.

And after letting it rest for a moment, you held it up and allowed it to float away, the others following suit.

Probably on their way to grace another.

“You see, Neteyam? This is a sign from Eywa. You father means no harm. He loves and cares for you deeply, and only wants what’s best for you,” you smiled, placing a feather-light kiss between his eyes.

But Neteyam didn’t see it that way.

He saw it as a sign from Eywa saying that no matter how bad things got, angry, frustrating, or scary, you would be there. You would be his escape, his safety, his peace.

He had no responsibilities with you ( except protecting you, of course ). When alone, it was just you and him.

And all he had to do was lay down, rest, and listen contently as you sang.

this is what logan sees after he forgets himself and rests his ENTIRE weight on top of you by accident

You Have a Girlfriend?

So you get a little confused when you’re drunk? So what?

a/n: I saw a goofy little twitter post about this somewhere and ran with it. I’m goofy when I’m drunk, so, honestly? A very plausible scenario.

warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

—

You’re sitting next to Bucky and across from Sam, and you are a little very drunk. The three of you chose to have a drink and talk after a long day of working on the Wilsons’ boat. The issue, however, is that Sam challenged Bucky and yourself to a drinking game, and you were desperately losing.

One thing about you is that when you’re drunk: you feel the need to tell everyone how much you love them. Another thing about you when you’re drunk: your memory sucks.

“Sam,” you whisper yell across the bow of the boat. “Sam. Sam. Sam.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at you when he turns his attention to you.

“I have a secret to tell you! No, two secrets!” You hold out two fingers in front of you.

Sam smirks. “What’s that?”

“One,” you hold up one finger, “I love you; you’re a good friend. Two,” you hold up a second finger, “your friend who’s sitting by me is really, really hot.”

Sam lets out a loud laugh, and you grin at his reaction.

“I love you, too, kid.”

Bucky is smiling fondly at you, watching you with love and adoration. He’s glad he can’t get drunk simply for the ability to take care of you while you let loose.

“I’m really, really hot, huh?” Bucky teases, and he laughs when you nearly get whiplash from turning to look at him.

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him. In your drunken state, you clearly didn’t expect him to hear your admission to Sam. You relax after a second, though, and smile at him.

“Yeah, you are. Y’know, I was wonderin’…” you trail off, getting distracted as you stare into his bright blue eyes. You let out a content sigh as you observe him.

“What were ya wonderin’, Doll?” He lets his hand rest on your thigh, rubbing his hand up and down comfortingly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” Your question is dead serious. There’s no hesitancy or joke in your voice, and Bucky finds it completely endearing. He chuckles as he stares at you, and you can faintly hear Sam lose his shit. You don’t pull your attention away from Bucky at all, though.

“I do,” Bucky informs you, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at your reaction.

Your eyes go wide, tears prickle at the corner of them. You swallow and wipe them away before doing your best to come up with a steady voice.

“Is it serious?” You question him.

“Very,” he smiles. “‘m gonna ask her to marry me.”

Generally speaking, Bucky wouldn’t have told you his plans, but he is fairly certain you’re not going to remember this conversation in the morning. And, if you do, he isn’t too concerned because he is so very serious.

You make no effort to hide your disappointment, and you let your tears fall freely this time.

“Oh, okay. She’s so lucky. Does she make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

You’re obviously upset, and you’re obviously unaware Bucky is talking about you. Sam is trying not to laugh, but his wide grin betrays him. Bucky, however, finds himself more concerned than entertained when you start to actually cry.

“Doll, what’s wrong?” He wipes a tear away with his thumb, softly holding your face.

“No!” You push his hand away, eyes going wide. “You have a girlfriend! She wouldn’t want you touchin’ me!”

He laughs then. He can’t help it. After all, his girlfriend would very much want him to touch you. You always have your hand interlaced with his, or your body snugly tucked into his side, or your hand in his hair, or… The list goes on.

“Hey, don’t laugh.” You frown.

“Sorry, sorry. ‘s just that my girlfriend loves when I touch you.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

“Why would she like for you to touch other women?”

Sam bursts into another round of laughter. He is struggling to breathe as he wordlessly points at the two of you, ignoring Bucky’s glare.

“Oh, Doll, she doesn’t. She hates it, really, and I never pay another dame a lick of attention. She’s the only one I’ve got eyes for.” He kisses your forehead, a form of punctuation to his assurance.

Your critical thinking skills, however, are formally shot.

“You’re lying! You’re paying me attention! And I’m not your girlfriend! What’s your girlfriend’s name? I’ve got to tell her you’re cheating. Girl code.”

Sam loses it again.

“Your girlfriend! You: cheating! Shit!” Sam barely manages to get a thought out. Bucky grins at his friend. He can’t deny that he is just as entertained by your antics.

He pulls out his phone, opening his contacts up to the one labeled “Dollface,” and hands it to you.

“Here,” he says, “call her.”

You nod and take his phone, hitting the call button and holding his cellphone to your ear.

A ringtone fills the night air and you frown when you feel a vibration in your back pocket. Clumsily, you pull your own cellphone out of your pocket and look down at the screen.

“JBB <3 is calling…” appears on your screen along with a candid photo of Bucky laughing.

You stare at it, and Sam and Bucky stare at you. You don’t do anything—don’t say anything, don’t move—until the call goes to voicemail. Finally you look up at Bucky.

“Why’d it call me?”

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend,” Bucky finally says.

Your face breaks into a wide grin.

“No shit!”

—

“I wasn’t that drunk!” You insist the following morning.

Sam and Bucky exchange a look before laughing.

“Kid,” Sam says once he’s calmed down enough. “You asked Tin-man if he had a girlfriend and cried when he said yes.”

Your eyes go wide as you turn to Bucky for confirmation.

“You did, Doll,” he says, smiling.

You stare for a moment before shrugging and turning back to your coffee in front of you.

“Y’know what? That’s a totally reasonable reaction,” you say, leaning back into Bucky as he situates himself behind you and plants a loving kiss in your hair.

Scary Dog Privilege

(A Wolverine Fic)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Summary: The reader practically begs Logan to be her fake boyfriend at a gala, but ends up getting more than she bargained for

Genre: Fluffy throughout, a teensy bit angsty near the end, and a dash of "oh my god, just KISS ALREADY!!!" sprinkled in pretty much everywhere

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive language, fake boyfriend trope, friends to lovers, oblivious idiots in love, more than platonic touches, tw food/alcohol, crying, protective!Logan, the image of Logan in a tux (yes, that's a warning), Tony Stark being... himself, a Hugh Jackman-sized Wolverine and an average/small reader (size difference, yaaaaay)

A/N: Big thanks to @snixkers for being my designated Wolvie Beta Reader, as well as a handful of buddies in my writers discord for helping me turn the head words into page words (you know who you are).

Word Count: 4416

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This is going to be a disaster, Y/N thought as she stared hopelessly at the event notification on her phone: Superhero Gala tonight!!!

It was her least favorite day of the year, even though on paper it was a good thing. All of the Avengers and all the X-Men getting together and hosting a gala fundraiser to raise money for a different cause every year, as well as “celebrate the spirit of collaboration among heroes” or whatever preachy bullshit Charles is always on about.

She just knew that she’d inevitably be stuck getting hit on by drunken aristocratic strangers in a dress she didn’t want to be wearing, just like every other year. She’d much rather be honing her abilities or reading a book, but attendance was mandatory for every adult living at the mansion, much to her chagrin.

Y/N paced the length of her bedroom, worrying about her certain doom, when she got an idea. It wasn’t a very good idea, but it was better than no idea at all. She stuffed her phone in her back pocket, then ventured down to the kitchen where she was hoping she’d find who she was looking for, and she was right.

Logan was sitting at the island munching on a piece of toast and nursing a flask of what she assumed was whiskey, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She said, “Howlett, I need to talk to you in private.”

Logan looked up from his breakfast and said, “Good morning to you too, L/N,” mostly unbothered by her request.

Y/N rolled her eyes and said, “NOW, please.”

He raised a hand in surrender and said, “Alright, Bossy Pants,” before following her into the other room away from the prying ears of Jean, Scott, and Ororo.

Once they were out of earshot, Y/N said, “Okay, I’m gonna ask you to do something kinda weird, but I promise if you do it, I’ll never ask you for anything else ever again.”

Logan raised a questioning eyebrow at her. “Okay?”

She took a deep breath. “I need you to be my scary dog privilege tonight at the gala.”

The request hung in the air between them as Logan tried to process what the hell she just said to him. “You need me to be your what?”

Y/N sighed exasperatedly, then elaborated. “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend so the sleazy rich assholes leave me alone!” before steepling her hands and giving him her best puppy dog pout.

Logan wasn’t swayed, and he crossed his arms. “Why me? Couldn’t you ask McCoy?” Y/N glared at him, annoyed that he was being so difficult.

“Yes, I could ask Hank, but Hank is a teddy bear! You’re tall, you’re intimidating, it’s somewhat believable that we’d be together, and you have claws. And if you don’t do this, I promise you that if even one slimeball approaches me, I will use the ‘what not to do’ section of the Geneva Convention as a to-do list! So will you be my fake boyfriend or not?!”

Both of Logan’s eyebrows went up at this, and he said, “As entertainin’ as that would be, Chuck would probably ground you for committin’ war crimes against a civilian,” before starting to walk back to the kitchen.

In a panic, Y/N blabbed, “I’ll smuggle in cigars and booze for you for a month!” which stopped him in his tracks. Gotcha, Wolvie.

He turned back around, let out a groan in the back of his throat at the hopeful smile on Y/N’s face, then said, “Fine. But just this once,” before sticking out a hand to shake. She grinned, then shook his hand, trying her best to not think about how his hand completely engulfed hers or how warm and rough it was.

That evening, Logan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs alongside Scott for Jean and Y/N to come down, both men in sharp black tuxedos.

Scott said, “So, you’re L/N’s date tonight, huh?” with a shit-eating grin on his face, so Logan rolled his eyes, tugging at the collar of her dress clothes slightly. “She made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Literally. If I refused, she was gonna kill the first stranger who told her she was pretty.”

Scott chuckled. “Yeah, sounds about right.” Then he fell silent, so Logan followed his gaze and tried to ignore the weird tug in the pit of his stomach when he saw Y/N trailing behind Jean. She looked like a completely different person than the woman he bantered with every day.

Her hair fell in a halo of perfect waves around her shoulders, her makeup was done to perfection, diamond studs decorated her ears, and her dress… oh, that dress.

While its rhinestone-encrusted fabric covered every inch of her body except her collarbone and her hands, it hugged every curve like it was made especially for her (and it probably was). The slight padding of the shoulders and the emerald green hue made her look almost ethereal, and the matching shoes he could see peeking out from under the hem with every step she took added to the effect, though he wasn’t sure why.

Y/N stopped in front of him. “Well, you clean up nice, Howlett,” and adjusted his tie (which just so happened to match her dress). That snapped him out of his reverie before he cleared his throat. “You too, L/N. Shall we?”

He offered her his arm, and she took it. “Let’s get this over with,” before letting him lead her into the ballroom.

After he had initially agreed to this admittedly crazy scheme, Logan and Y/N had gone over different forms of PDA that they were each comfortable with. Y/N had told Logan that he could do whatever he needed to do to sell it, whereas he was more hesitant to give her carte blanche, only allowing lingering arm and shoulder touches or a kiss on the cheek if the situation desperately called for it.

Logan instantly clocked the bar the second they stepped foot inside, and before he could say anything, Y/N quipped, “I need to be drunk half an hour ago, let’s move,” and started pulling him towards the bar, causing him to let out a snort as he allowed her to drag him along.

He ordered a whiskey on the rocks while she stuck with a vodka soda, and after they were given their drinks, Logan said, “Say what you want about Stark. At least he has the decency to spring for an open bar, and it’s the good shit,” while swirling the liquid in his glass.

Y/N snickered and said, “I’ll drink to that.” She held her glass up for cheers, and Logan clinked his glass against hers, then downed about half of his whiskey in one swig.

Y/N had to blink to rid the image of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, then she downed her drink as well. “Well, we better go find Charles and the others.”

He nodded in agreement, then put a hand at the small of her back as they ventured into the center of the room. Y/N spotted Charles amongst a circle of Avengers and X-Men including Captain America, Black Widow, and Iron Man as well as Hank, Scott, Jean, and Rogue. The two of them approached the circle, and Y/N said, “Partying hard or hardly partying?”

Charles looked away from the tall, blond man Y/N recognized from last year as Steve Rogers at the sound of her voice, then said, “Ah! There you two are! Logan, Y/N, I’m sure you remember Captain Rogers, Miss Romanoff, and Mr. Stark from last year’s benefit,” and gestured between them.

Y/N smiled and said, “Of course. It’s great to see you again,” while shaking each of their hands, earning a “Likewise” from Steve, a nod from Natasha, and a smirk from Tony. He was surely about to say something lewd, but Logan stuck his hand out to shake just in time. “Mighty nice of ya to foot the bill on some decent booze, Stark,” his arm snaking protectively around Y/N’s waist.

If Charles and the other X-Men didn’t clock it, which was highly unlikely, they thankfully said nothing about it, but Tony recovered quickly enough that it wasn’t necessary anyway. He shook Logan’s hand and said, “Of course. Only the best for the best, amiright?” before shooting a wink in Y/N’s direction.

Logan bristled slightly, so Y/N took that as an opportunity to place a hand on his chest and say, “Lo, I believe I was promised a dance?” raising her eyebrows pointedly at him.

He said, “Right, yeah, absolutely, Doll Face. Nice seeing you again, but duty calls. Boyfriend duty, that is,” nodded at Steve and Natasha, then shot an almost gloating wink in Tony’s direction before giving Y/N his arm and whisking her off to the dance floor.

As they left, Y/N swore she heard Scott whisper incredulously, “‘Boyfriend’’?!” and Jean smack him in the chest, which made her stomach flip slightly at the thought that only Scott questioned the arrangement.

As they reached the dance floor, Y/N took note of the string quartet a few paces from the floor. “Open bar, and live entertainment? That Stark sure knows how to throw a party.”

Logan rolled his eyes and huffed, “If he took hints as good as he threw parties, then we’d be in business,” before he remembered that he wasn’t actually Y/N’s boyfriend, and there was no reason for him to be that pissed. So why was he?

Y/N said, “He’s the outlier in this situation. I’ve clocked at least eight different guys that have made to come talk to me, but immediately backtracked once they noticed you standing right next to me. I should bribe you to be my scary dog privilege more often!”

He just scoffed. “Yeah, yeah, don’t hold your breath,” but there was still a hint of a smile on his face as they joined the other couples waiting for the next song.

The musicians took up their instruments and began playing again, so Logan extended a hand to Y/N and said, “May I have this dance?” while raising a teasing eyebrow at her. She smiled, then took it and replied, “You may.”

He grinned before spinning her into his arms, a peal of laughter escaping her as she collided with his solid chest in a very ungraceful manner.

She giggled, “Logan!” He shrugged and said, “Gotta keep you on your toes somehow, don’t I?” neither of them acknowledging that she used his first name.

They kept dancing, Logan periodically making comments about the people around them just to hear her melodic laughter, and to any outsider, they looked just like any other couple; young (or seemingly young in Logan’s case) and in love, even though that wasn’t the case.

When the song ended, Y/N let out a breathless sigh and said, “I’m gonna go get a drink. Do you want anything?”

Logan held up a hand and said, “Nah, I’ve got all night to drink Stark outta house and home. Thank you, though.” Y/N nodded with a smile, then went to head for the bar, but Logan stopped her with a hand on her waist.

He said, “Hang on a sec, Doll,” then held her chin in place with his first two fingers and brushed some rogue strands of hair away from her face before murmuring, “There we go. Perfect.”

Y/N fought to keep a blush from staining her cheeks as she thanked him, then she scampered away to the bar after telling him she’d be back soon, hoping to god he didn’t notice the spike in her heart rate.

She reached the bar and ordered another vodka soda, somewhat breathlessly. As she waited, she ended up overanalyzing all that had transpired thus far, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. Logan’s protectiveness around someone he knew wasn’t a threat? Going out of his way to play the Boyfriend Card in front of their teammates and collaborators? The pet names? The way he’s been looking at her since they stepped foot inside the ballroom?

As she was going through all of this, an unfamiliar man sidled up next to her at the bar and tried to strike up a conversation, much to Y/N’s dismay.

“Hey there, I’m Jeffrey. Did they give you a name to go with that pretty face?” and she just barely contained a gag/cringe combo before telling him her name. He smiled a bit too wide to be genuine, then said, “Can I order you a drink?” so she said, “I already ordered. And I promised my boyfriend I’d come find him as soon as I got it, so…,” and craned her neck to search for the bartender.

Jeffrey scoffed.“Some boyfriend he is, letting a lady like you wander off by herself.” That made Y/N inhale sharply. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and he’s well aware of that,” she said curtly, silently daring him to say one more stupid thing so she could knock him into next month.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak again, his voice faltered and his eyes trailed up to someone much taller than her. She didn’t have the chance to turn around before the familiar scent of pine, whiskey, and tobacco filled her nostrils and a pair of lips pressed a kiss to her jaw.

Logan husked out right next to her ear, “Hey, Baby. Thought you were gonna come find me once you got your drink. Dinner’s about to start.” One of his hands slid around to rest against her stomach protectively, so she placed a hand on his arm and said, “I was! It just got busy, I guess. We had the home-front advantage earlier,” trying to pretend like she wasn’t silently losing her mind over what he’d just done and praying to whatever deity existed that he couldn’t smell her body’s reaction to what had just occurred.

She turned her head to look at him, and he smiled at her before nodding his head in Jeffrey’s direction and saying, “Who’s this punk?”

She shot a quick glare at the man in question, then looked back up at Logan. “Just someone who is very lucky you showed up when you did,” she said with a smile before going up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

The bartender arrived with her drink not a moment too soon, and as she grabbed it, said, “It was nice to meet you, Jeffrey,” and then let Logan lead her back to their designated table, choosing to ignore how Logan looked over his shoulder and snarled at the man as they walked away.

Dinner thankfully went off without any hitches, but since Y/N and Logan were seated next to each other, the constant whiffs she got of Logan's unique (and intoxicating) musk whenever he so much as shifted in his chair were driving her insane. Not to mention the absentminded circles he was drawing on her leg under the table, which he didn’t need to do since nobody could see.

Just as she thought she’d be able to beeline it to somebody’s office or the bathroom or anywhere else to hide, Jean pulled her aside while asking to talk to her in private, making her think a string of expletives that she was well aware Jean could still hear as she allowed herself to be dragged to an unoccupied corner of the ballroom.

Once they were away from listening ears, Jean said, “Okay, what is going on between you and Logan? Yesterday you were threatening to shove him off the roof, and now you two are all over each other! And don’t even try to lie,” while raising a questioning eyebrow. Y/N let out a petulant whine, but Jean shot her a look that Y/N liked to call “The Mom Glare”, so she let out a loud sigh and explained everything, her voice growing more hysterical with every word:

“Okay, I bribed Logan into being my fake boyfriend for the night to keep the creeps away, and I told him to do whatever he needed to do so people would believe it, but I realized that I like what he’s been doing way too much for us to be just friends, and I’m losing my goddamn mind, Jean!”

Jean put her hands on Y/N’s arms to ground her and said, “Whoa, calm down. What exactly has he done that’s got you so worked up?” Y/N let out a mildly panicked laugh, then said, “For starters, if he was within arms reach of me, his hands were on me. He was being super protective of me in front of Tony even though we all know he could snap the Tin Man like a toothpick if he wanted to. He kissed me on the jaw earlier when some sleazeball was hitting on me by the bar, then snarled at him as we walked away. And to top it off, he was drawing circles on my leg under the table at dinner, and I’m not convinced he realized he was doing it, because I did nothing to stop him. Ugh, this is so complicated!”

Jean made a confused face at this. “Why does it have to be complicated? You two clearly have feelings for each other that are more than platonic. And if I may, he agreed to this crazy scheme of yours, didn’t he? At least some part of him feels the same way about you.” This earned another whine from Y/N.

She started rambling, “I don’t want this to change our relationship! I mean, yeah, I’ve had a crush on him for years because I’m not blind, but we’re just friends! And we’ve always been just friends! We bust each other's chops, we affectionately threaten each other with violence, we smuggle contraband into the school for each other even though Charles absolutely knows we’re doing it, so there’s literally no reason for us to be so secretive about it. I can’t just throw that away because I’m in love with him!”

Unfortunately, she didn’t notice Jean’s face pale or her attempts to get her to stop talking until a familiar deep voice said, “You’re in love with me?”

Y/N’s blood ran cold, and she turned around to see Logan standing there with a confused expression on his face. Her stomach clenched, and she said meekly, “How much of that did you hear?” hoping he wouldn’t say what she thought he was going to say, and bracing herself for the worst.

“Everything after ‘complicated’.” Fuck.

A whimper escaped her throat, and she heard Jean scamper off behind her. She sighed and whispered, “Shit,” squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. Logan made to move towards her, but Y/N recoiled from him and said, “Don’t!”, before side-stepping him and sprinting out of the ballroom as fast as her wildly impractical attire would allow her, ignoring the concerned calls of her name from her fellow X-Men.

Y/N knew Logan would catch up to her eventually, but for the moment, the only thing on her mind was getting as far away from the ballroom and him as possible. She ended up in the hedge maze, and she fell onto a stone bench to catch her breath, but all too soon she heard Logan yelling her name.

She ignored him, then proceeded to bury her face in her hands and cry due to the sheer irony of the situation: She was hiding in a stupid hedge maze from the only man she’s ever wanted because she can’t bring herself to face him.

Logan rounded the corner a few moments later, and the second he saw her on the bench and heard her sniffling, he knelt before her. “Hey, don’t cry, Sweetheart.” He gently pulled her hands away from her face.

Y/N just shook her head and whispered, “I can’t do this, Logan,” through her tears, making Logan’s eyebrows furrow before he said, “Can’t do what, Darlin’?” and went to wipe her cheek with his thumb, but it was too much for her to take.

Y/N flinched away from his touch and sobbed out, “This! The pet names, the tender touches, you looking at me like that! I can’t go back to just friends after everything that’s happened tonight, I can’t! If you’re gonna let me down, please just let me down gently because it’s the only way I can bear losing you!”

A fresh flood of tears blurred her vision enough that she couldn’t see his face, and she tried to get up to run back to her room or anywhere else where she could lock the door and try to pretend like this whole night was just a bad dream, but Logan’s hands shot out to hold her in place. “Y/N, who said anything about letting anybody down or losing me?”

Y/N startled at the sound of her first name coming out of his mouth, and she blinked back her tears to find him looking at her so tenderly she thought she was going to melt into the grass below her. Logan cupped her face in his hand and said,

“From the day that I met you, I knew I needed to find a way to keep you in my life. For a while, that was by being your friend. But only being your friend isn’t enough for me anymore. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anyone in my entire life.” His thumb stroked her cheek comfortingly as he spoke.

Y/N giggled through her tears, and she said, “That’s a long ass time, Wolvie.”

He chuckled back and said, “My point exactly, Doll,” squeezing her knee for emphasis. Y/N looked down at the ground and said, “You’re gonna get grass stains on your pants.”

Logan raised an eyebrow challengingly before bracing his hands on the bench on either side of her and purposely grinding his knees into the grass, pulling a shocked laugh from her. “Logan Howlett!”

He chuckled at her admonishing tone, then leaned in to press his forehead against hers and murmured, “It stopped being pretend for me the moment you came downstairs in this dress,” as he ran a hand down her leg to fiddle with the hem of her dress.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she whispered, “You had me at ‘hey, baby’.” For a moment they just stared at each other, but Logan’s resolve broke when she breathed his name, and he surged forward to capture her lips in a desperate kiss that said everything words couldn’t then.

His tongue ran along the seam of her lips, and she let him in without hesitation as she gripped the back of his jacket and he held her against his chest like she’d disappear if he let go. Y/N could have stayed in his embrace forever, and Logan could have kept her like that indefinitely.

Unfortunately, humans need oxygen to live, so Y/n pulled her lips away to at least attempt to catch her breath, but Logan had other plans.

He trailed his kisses down her jaw to her neck, and his hand started roaming around her back to find the zipper of her dress, but Y/N put a hand to his chest to stop him and said, “You better take me on a real date before you try something like that, Howlett.” He buried his face in her shoulder and groaned disappointedly.

Y/N giggled, then said, “As far as I know, the gala doesn’t end for another few hours,” to which Logan leaned back so he was sitting on his heels.

“I think I like where your head's at, Princess,” a smirk crossing his face before he jumped to his feet, scooped her up bridal style, and started jogging back to the mansion, his heart swelling at her squeal of laughter and how her arms tightened around his neck.

Logan set Y/N down outside of the ballroom, then held out his hand and said, “Ready, Darlin’?”

She smiled and said, “Always, Big Guy,” before lacing her fingers with his and walking into the room, where seemingly every Avenger and X-Man was standing and waiting with bated breath.

Y/N bit her lip and looked up at Logan, who let out a resigned sigh and said, “Ahhhh, fuck it,” before sweeping her into a dip and kissing the life out of her, an eruption of shocked laughter, wolf whistles, and applause coming from the gathering of heroes, making Y/N smile against his lips and cup his face in her hand.

When he pulled his lips away, Logan murmured, “I’m in love with you, too. Didn’t get to say it earlier,” making Y/N snark, “Oh, really? I never would have guessed,” before giggling and reconnecting their lips, Logan chuckling as he held her even closer.

Scott hollered teasingly, “Hey, lovebirds! Mind wrapping it up?! We’ve got places to be!”

Both Logan and Y/N simultaneously flipped him off while they stayed engrossed in each other.

“Yeah, fair enough,” Scott said, making Jean laugh at him. Logan eventually stood Y/N up again, then said, “Hey, Stark, is there any good shit left? I don’t know about you, but I finally got the girl, and I feel like celebrating.” As he spoke, he shot a wink at Y/N solely to make her blush.

Tony said, “Absolutely!” A waiter came over with two glasses of champagne, and even Y/N could tell that it was high-quality stuff just from the smell.

Logan held his glass towards her, then said, “To you and me, Darlin’.” Y/N clinked her glass against his in cheers and said, “You and me, Bubba,” everyone cheering as Logan kissed her temple.

As an avid romance novel reader, she probably should have seen this coming, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care about anything else besides the comforting feeling of Logan’s arm around her waist and the knowledge that he was all hers for as long as she wanted him, which was forever.

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