Broken Claws And Tender Hearts

Broken Claws and Tender Hearts

Summary: In the dark corners of a crumbling city, aging mutant Wolverine, James Logan Howlett, finds himself gravely wounded and abandoned. Rescued by Y/N, a compassionate woman trapped in an abusive marriage, Logan’s gratitude evolves into deep, forbidden love as he witnesses the brutal toll of her husband's violence.

The city was a mess, like it had given up on itself a long time ago. Streets were littered with trash, and broken glass crunched underfoot like a constant reminder of the decay that had set in. In the darkest corners of this dismal place, where even the streetlights seemed to flicker with disinterest, James Logan Howlett—known to the world as Wolverine—was barely hanging on. Once a fierce mutant warrior with an unbreakable spirit, he was now just an old man with unhealable wounds and a broken heart.

Logan, as he was known, was a far cry from the invincible fighter he used to be. His claws, once sharp enough to cut through steel, were now dull and rusty. His body, scarred and bruised from countless battles, was failing him. Pain was his constant companion, a relentless reminder of his mortality. As he lay slumped in a filthy alley, the cold seeped through his tattered clothes, mingling with the sweat of his suffering. He was beyond exhausted, teetering on the edge of consciousness, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

“Fuck, this is one hell of a way to go,” he muttered weakly, his voice barely a croak. His usually fierce eyes were now clouded with exhaustion, and the alley seemed to close in around him, a concrete tomb waiting to claim him.

Just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse, a pair of footsteps echoed through the alley. Logan's dimming senses barely registered the sound at first. But the crunch of boots on the grimy pavement drew closer, and his survival instincts kicked in, if only just. He tried to lift his head, but it felt like it weighed a ton. He managed to catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure approaching.

“Jesus Christ!” a female voice called out, a mix of shock and concern lacing her words. The figure moved closer, and Logan could make out the silhouette of a woman. Her face was partly hidden by the dim light, but the earnest worry in her eyes was unmistakable.

“Hey, buddy, you look like shit,” she said, crouching down beside him. “What happened to you?”

Logan tried to muster a response, but the effort was futile. Instead, he gave a weak shrug and a bitter laugh. “Just another day in paradise,” he rasped, struggling to keep his eyes open.

The woman, whose name Logan would soon learn was Y/N, didn’t seem deterred by his sarcastic tone. She looked him over with a practiced eye, noting the severity of his injuries. “You’re in no shape to be lying here. We need to get you out of this mess.”

“Yeah, like I’m gonna be any trouble,” Logan mumbled, his voice tinged with irony. “I’m practically dead weight.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Y/N said, her voice firm but gentle. “Everyone deserves a chance, even you. Let’s get you out of here.”

With a strength that belied her delicate appearance, Y/N helped Logan to his feet. It was no easy task; he was barely able to support himself, his legs unsteady beneath him. She wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to steady him as they made their way out of the alley. Each step was a challenge, and Logan could feel his energy draining away with every movement.

“You’re really doing this?” Logan asked, glancing at her with a mixture of gratitude and skepticism. “You know I’m not exactly in the best shape.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse,” Y/N replied with a faint smile. “You’re not the first person I’ve helped, and you won’t be the last. Just hang in there.”

The journey to Y/N’s home was slow and arduous. The streets seemed endless, stretching out like a labyrinth of shadows. Logan’s breathing grew more labored with each step, and he could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness. Y/N kept a steady pace, her determination unwavering.

When they finally arrived at her modest apartment, Logan was barely aware of his surroundings. The building was far from luxurious, but it had a certain homeliness that contrasted sharply with the desolation he had just left behind. Y/N managed to get him inside and guided him to a makeshift bed in the living room. The space was cluttered but warm, with a few personal touches that made it clear someone lived here.

“Alright, let’s get you settled,” Y/N said, her voice gentle as she helped him lie down. “I’m going to get some supplies and see what I can do for you.”

Logan watched as she moved about the small apartment, gathering medical supplies and setting them out with careful precision. Her movements were efficient but calm, as if she had done this many times before. Despite the pain, Logan found himself oddly comforted by her presence.

“Why are you going through all this trouble?” Logan asked, his voice weak but curious. “You don’t even know me.”

Y/N paused her work and looked at him with a thoughtful expression. “It’s not about knowing you. It’s about doing what’s right. No one should be left to suffer like this, not even someone who looks like they’ve been through hell.”

Logan chuckled dryly, a sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m kind of a mess. I don’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“Everyone has their own battles,” Y/N said softly. “Yours might be different from mine, but that doesn’t make them any less real. I’ve had my share of struggles, too.”

As Y/N cleaned his wounds with a gentle hand, Logan winced at the sting of antiseptic. Despite the pain, he appreciated her care. It was a stark contrast to the harshness of his usual existence. For once, he wasn’t fighting, wasn’t on the run. He was just lying here, vulnerable and at the mercy of someone who seemed to genuinely care.

“You know, I’m not exactly the type to get all mushy,” Logan said with a faint grin. “But this...”

Y/N cut him of and glanced up at him, her eyes warm. “You don’t have to be mushy. Just be grateful that someone’s here to help. That’s all I’m asking.”

Logan nodded, his heart heavy with a mix of gratitude and sadness. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’re giving me a chance when I don’t even deserve one.”

“Everyone deserves a chance,” Y/N replied firmly. “Even if they don’t think so themselves.”

As the night wore on, Y/N continued to tend to his wounds with meticulous care. Logan watched her, taking in the details of her face, the determination in her eyes. It was a rare sight—a glimmer of kindness in a world that had long since turned its back on him.

Despite the pain and fatigue, Logan felt a strange sense of calm. For the first time in a long while, he was allowing himself to be cared for, to be vulnerable. It was an unfamiliar but oddly comforting feeling. He had spent so many years fighting, surviving, and pushing everyone away. But here was someone who was willing to stand by him, even in his darkest hour.

“Hey, Y/N,” Logan said softly as she finished her work. “You ever wonder why we end up in places like this? I mean, I’ve fought a lot of battles, but this... this is a different kind of fight.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “Sometimes, I think we end up where we need to be. Even in the darkest places, there’s a chance for something good to happen. Maybe this is just one of those moments.”

Logan nodded, his thoughts a tangled mess of past regrets and hopeful possibilities. As he drifted off to sleep, the warmth of Y/N’s care was a small, flickering light in the midst of his darkness. It wasn’t a cure for his wounds or his broken spirit, but it was a reminder that there was still some good left in the world

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Y/N’s apartment, though modest and cluttered, was a sanctuary of sorts for Logan. As days passed, he began to recover from his severe injuries, thanks in no small part to Y/N’s dedicated care. The old Wolverine, now fragile and more vulnerable than ever, found himself in an unexpected role—patient rather than warrior. It was a role that didn’t sit easily with him, but Y/N’s unwavering kindness made it bearable.

Y/N’s daily routine revolved around caring for Logan. Mornings began with gentle cleaning of his wounds, followed by a carefully prepared meal, usually something simple yet nourishing. Despite her own exhaustion, she never missed a beat, always wearing a brave face even when her eyes betrayed her fatigue. Logan noticed these details—the way her hands shook slightly when she applied ointment, the forced cheerfulness in her voice, and the way she always tried to keep things normal.

One afternoon, while Y/N was in the kitchen preparing lunch, Logan sat on the bed, feeling the stiffness of his muscles. He was starting to regain some strength, but moving was still a struggle. He could hear Y/N’s soft humming and the occasional clatter of pots and pans. Just as he was about to call out to her, the sound of the front door slamming shut cut through the quiet.

Logan tensed, recognizing the unmistakable sound of anger. Y/N’s face, when she returned to the room, was pale and strained. Her eyes darted nervously towards the door. Logan could sense the tension in the air, a sharp contrast to the calm that usually filled the room.

“Everything alright?” Logan asked, his voice hoarse but concerned. His eyes, though tired, were keenly observant.

Y/N forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, just... Marcus had a rough day at work. Nothing to worry about.”

Logan didn’t press further, though he could tell there was more to it. He knew from experience that some things were best left unspoken, but the bruises on Y/N’s arms, which she tried to hide with long sleeves, spoke volumes. Each mark was a silent testament to her struggles.

The days turned into weeks, and the tension between Y/N and Marcus became increasingly palpable. Logan overheard snippets of arguments through the thin walls of the apartment. Marcus’s voice was harsh and threatening, full of disdain for mutants and a general aggression that made Logan’s skin crawl.

One evening, as Y/N was bandaging a fresh wound on Logan’s side, the door burst open with a violent crash. Marcus stormed in, his face twisted with rage. “What the hell is this? You’re still wasting your time on this mutant freak? I thought I told you to get rid of him!”

Logan’s eyes flared with anger, but he held back, his body tensing. Y/N’s face flushed with a mix of fear and frustration. “Marcus, please, just calm down. He needs our help.”

“Why should I give a damn about this piece of shit?” Marcus spat, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “He’s nothing but trouble. You’re bringing this mess into our home.”

Logan could see the strain on Y/N’s face, the way she struggled to keep her voice steady. “Marcus, I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. This man is hurt and needs help. I can’t just turn him away.”

Marcus’s gaze flicked to Logan, his eyes filled with contempt. “And what about what I need? You’re always putting others before me. I’m done with this crap.”

Logan remained silent, his claws itching to come out, but he knew better than to escalate the situation. Y/N’s shoulders slumped as Marcus’s angry words continued to fill the room, each one a fresh wound to her already battered soul.

Finally, Marcus stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Y/N stood there, shaking slightly, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. Logan’s heart ached for her, and he struggled to keep his voice calm as he spoke.

“Y/N... are you okay?” he asked, his tone gentle despite the anger bubbling inside him.

She wiped her tears and nodded, though it was clear she was far from okay. “I’m fine. It’s just... the same old stuff. Marcus doesn’t understand, and he never will.”

Logan reached out, his hand brushing against her arm gently. “You don’t deserve that, you know. No one does.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “Thank you, Logan. I know it’s not your place to say that, but it means a lot coming from you.”

The days that followed were a delicate balance of tension and care. Y/N continued to nurse Logan back to health while trying to manage the chaos that Marcus brought into their lives. Logan’s own recovery was slow but steady, and he found himself growing more dependent on Y/N, not just for physical healing but for the emotional support he hadn’t realized he needed.

One night, as Logan lay awake in the dim light of the living room, he heard Y/N sobbing quietly in the next room. Unable to ignore her distress, he carefully rose from the bed and moved to the door of her room. He knocked softly, hoping not to startle her.

“Y/N, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a brief pause, and then Y/N’s voice, strained but soft, replied, “Yeah, come in.”

Logan entered to find Y/N sitting on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. The sight of her, so vulnerable and broken, stirred something deep inside him. He approached her cautiously, sitting down beside her.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice a rough whisper in the quiet room. “You want to talk about it?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes red and swollen. “It’s just... everything feels so overwhelming. Marcus is getting worse, and I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Logan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle despite the rawness of his own wounds. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ve been handling all this shit with a lot more grace than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N gave a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Logan. It means a lot to hear that, especially now.”

As they sat together in the dim light, Logan found himself opening up in a way he hadn’t in years. He shared fragments of his past, stories of battles fought and lost, of the loneliness that came with being a mutant. Y/N listened intently, her presence a comforting balm to his wounded soul.

“I never thought I’d be in a place like this,” Logan said quietly. “Hell, I thought I’d be dead by now. But... there’s something about this place, about you, that makes me feel like maybe I’ve got a reason to stick around.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the weight of their respective burdens seemed to lift. “Maybe we both needed this. A place where we could find some kind of solace, even if just for a little while.”

Logan nodded, feeling a strange sense of peace despite the chaos around them. He realized that his feelings for Y/N were growing stronger, and he admired her more with each passing day. Her strength in the face of adversity, her kindness despite her own suffering—it all spoke to him in ways he hadn’t expected.

One evening, after another particularly brutal argument with Marcus, Y/N sat down beside Logan, her face etched with exhaustion. She had a new bruise on her cheek, a stark reminder of the violence she faced at home. Logan’s heart ached at the sight of it, and he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against the bruise.

“Does it ever get easier?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with concern.

Y/N shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “No, it doesn’t. But I have to keep going. For me, for you... for everyone who needs me.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “You shouldn’t have to go through this alone. It’s not right.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and hope. “Maybe someday things will change. Maybe there will be a way out of this mess. Until then, I have to hold on to whatever hope I can find.”

As the days continued, Logan’s feelings for Y/N deepened. Her resilience in the face of Marcus’s abuse, her unwavering dedication to helping him despite her own suffering—it all made him see her in a new light. He found himself drawn to her not just as a caretaker, but as a person who had become an unexpected beacon of hope in his life.

One evening, as they sat together after Marcus had stormed out, Logan took Y/N’s hand in his, his touch gentle but firm. “Y/N, I want you to know something. I’m here because you gave me a chance when no one else would. And... I care about you. More than I probably should.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her breath catching in her throat. “Logan, I—”

Before she could finish, Logan leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that I want to be here for you. I want to fight this together.”

Y/N’s eyes were filled with tears, but a small smile touched her lips. “Thank you, Logan. That means more to me than you can imagine.”

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Logan's recovery was a slow grind. The days were punctuated by a relentless rhythm of pain and progress, his wounds mending bit by bit. Y/N's care was both a balm and a burden; she was always there, her hands gentle and her demeanor kind. But as Logan's strength began to return, another kind of strength was being tested—Y/N’s.

Every day, Logan saw the bruises she tried to hide. He noticed the way she flinched when Marcus’s name was mentioned, the dark circles under her eyes that no amount of concealer could mask. It wasn’t just the physical pain that she wore like a second skin; it was the emotional toll that was etched into every line of her face. Logan could sense it, even when Y/N put on a brave face and forced a smile.

One evening, while Y/N was preparing dinner, Logan was lounging on the bed, his head resting against the headboard. He heard the all-too-familiar sound of the front door slamming, followed by Marcus’s booming voice, filled with venom. Logan’s jaw clenched, his claws itching to come out. But he knew better. The last thing Y/N needed was another problem on top of the one she already had.

Y/N’s footsteps were quick and hesitant as she moved around the kitchen. Logan could hear her trying to keep her voice steady as she spoke with Marcus, though it was clear from the sharpness in her tone that things were far from calm. Logan’s concern deepened with every shouted insult and the occasional crash that echoed through the apartment.

He struggled to stay put, his anger boiling beneath the surface. It was maddening to be so powerless, to hear Y/N suffering while he lay here, barely able to move. He wanted to confront Marcus, to show him just how outmatched he was, but his weakened state kept him tethered to the bed. It was a cruel irony that the very strength that had once made him a force to be reckoned with now left him helpless.

The door finally swung open, and Y/N walked in, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She carried a tray with a modest meal, her hands trembling slightly. Logan’s heart ached at the sight of her, and he tried to offer a reassuring smile, though he knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Everything okay out there?”

Y/N set the tray down on the small table beside the bed, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and resignation. “Yeah, just another argument. Marcus had a rough day and... well, you know how it goes.”

Logan’s gaze was intense, filled with concern. “Y/N, you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t deserve this.”

She sat down next to him, her shoulders slumping as she took a deep breath. “I know. I just... I don’t have a choice. If I leave, things will only get worse. I’m trying to hold on for now.”

Logan could see the pain in her eyes, the way her hands shook slightly as she picked up a small bowl of soup. He wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort, but he felt powerless, his own strength a mere shadow of what it used to be.

“Y/N, listen,” he said, his voice rough but earnest. “I know I’m in no position to make demands or offer solutions, but you’ve got to know that you don’t deserve this. Marcus is a piece of shit, and you’re better than this.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and she looked so tired, so weary. “It’s not that simple. Marcus is... he’s unpredictable. If I push too hard, it’ll only make things worse. I have to tread carefully.”

Logan’s anger flared, his hands curling into fists. “You shouldn’t have to live in fear. No one should.”

Y/N gave a small, bitter smile. “I appreciate that, Logan. I really do. But sometimes, just getting through the day is enough. It’s all I can manage right now.”

As the days went on, Logan’s concern grew. He noticed more bruises on Y/N’s skin, more shadows in her eyes. The arguments with Marcus became more frequent and more vicious. Logan found himself wrestling with a deep, gnawing frustration. He wanted to protect her, but he felt like a caged animal, unable to do anything but watch.

One night, after an especially brutal argument, Y/N came into the room, her face bruised and her lip split. She tried to hide it, but Logan saw the truth. His heart pounded with a mix of rage and helplessness.

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She sat down beside him, her movements slow and pained. “It’s nothing. Just... another fight. I’m okay.”

Logan’s eyes were fierce, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re not okay. This isn’t right, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to put up with this crap.”

Y/N sighed, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. “I know, Logan. I know. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave. I need to keep this place together, even if it’s falling apart.”

Logan’s anger simmered, his frustration boiling over. “I wish I could do something. I feel like I’m just... useless.”

Y/N shook her head, her hand reaching out to touch his. “You’re not useless, Logan. You’ve given me more hope than I’ve had in a long time. Just having you here, knowing you care—it means more than you know.”

As they sat together in the dim light of the room, Logan felt a deep connection to Y/N. Her strength, her resilience, even in the face of so much pain—it was a stark contrast to the brutality she endured. He realized how much she had come to mean to him, and how deeply he wished he could change her circumstances.

Despite the growing attachment and the undeniable pull he felt towards her, Logan remained bound by his own limitations. He could only watch as Y/N continued to endure Marcus’s cruelty, his own feelings of helplessness mixing with a fierce, burning desire to protect her. Every bruise, every tear she shed was a reminder of the pain she was enduring and the brutal reality of her situation.

Logan’s internal struggle was a constant battle. He wanted to be the hero, the one who swooped in and saved the day, but he was stuck in a role that felt more like a spectator than a savior.

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The night air was heavy, thick with an oppressive silence that seemed to press against Logan’s chest. He lay in bed, the shadows dancing across the walls as the soft hum of the city outside filled the room. Y/N had been unusually quiet tonight, and Logan's senses were on high alert, a growing unease gnawing at him.

He could hear Marcus’s booming voice from the other side of the apartment, each shout like a hammer pounding against Logan’s already frayed nerves. It had been a rough night, and Y/N’s attempts to calm her husband had only seemed to make things worse. Logan could feel the tension in the air, a sense of impending violence that made his heart pound and his skin crawl.

“Damn it,” Logan muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. He struggled to push himself up, but his weakened state made it a Herculean effort. He needed to do something, anything, but he was still bound by the limitations of his own frailty.

Suddenly, a crash echoed through the apartment, followed by Y/N’s scream. Logan’s blood ran cold. Without a second thought, he threw off the covers and stumbled toward the door, his heart racing. The anger and fear coursing through him felt like a storm, threatening to tear him apart.

“Y/N!” he shouted, his voice hoarse and desperate. He reached the door and yanked it open, the scene that greeted him was something out of a nightmare.

Marcus was towering over Y/N, who was curled up on the floor, her face streaked with tears and blood. The rage in Marcus’s eyes was palpable, a fury that seemed to consume everything in its path. Logan’s instincts screamed at him to act, but he was frozen for a split second, caught between his own fear and the raw, primal need to protect.

“Get the hell away from her!” Logan roared, his voice a guttural snarl. He forced himself to step forward, his hands trembling as he tried to summon the strength to intervene.

Marcus’s head snapped around, his eyes locking onto Logan with a mixture of shock and fury. “What the hell are you doing here, mutant? Stay out of this!”

Logan’s claws extended with a sharp, metallic hiss, his rage boiling over. “You’ve done enough, you piece of shit. Leave her alone.”

Marcus sneered, his face twisted into a cruel smile. “Or what? You’ll claw me to death? You’re pathetic.”

In a burst of adrenaline, Logan lunged forward, his claws slashing through the air. He was fueled by a mixture of desperation and anger, the need to protect Y/N overriding every other consideration. The chaos that ensued was a blur—Marcus lunged at Logan, and in the ensuing struggle, Logan’s claws struck out, his aim wild and frantic.

Time seemed to stretch and warp as Logan’s claws found their mark. Marcus fell, a look of disbelief and shock etched on his face. The room fell silent, the only sound the ragged breaths of the two remaining people in the room.

Y/N was still on the floor, her body trembling as she stared at the lifeless form of her husband. Her eyes were wide, filled with a mixture of horror and disbelief. Logan stood there, his own breathing heavy, his claws retracting as he tried to process what had just happened.

“Oh God,” Y/N whispered, her voice breaking. “What have you done?”

Logan took a tentative step toward her, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. “Y/N, I—”

“No!” she cut him off, her voice sharp and filled with anguish. “You didn’t have to kill him. I—I didn’t want this.”

Logan’s heart twisted at the sight of her tears. “I didn’t mean to... I was just trying to protect you. I couldn’t stand seeing him hurt you like that.”

Y/N’s sobs were ragged, her hands covering her face. “It’s too late for that now. I don’t know what to do...”

Logan knelt beside her, his voice soft and full of regret. “Y/N, please. I know this is a mess. I never wanted things to end like this, but I care about you. I care about you a hell of a lot.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes red and swollen. “What are we supposed to do now? What happens next?”

Logan reached out, his hand gently touching her arm. “We get out of here. We leave this place behind and start fresh somewhere else. I’ve got a stash of cash, and we can find somewhere safe. I just—”

Y/N cut him off, her voice trembling. “And what? We just run away? We leave everything behind and hope for the best?”

Logan’s gaze was intense, his voice pleading. “It’s not just about running away. It’s about finding a place where you can be safe, where you can be happy. I know it won’t be easy, but it’s got to be better than staying here, right?”

Y/N’s eyes searched his, and for a moment, Logan saw the flicker of hope amidst the pain. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Okay. Okay, let’s do it. But we have to be careful. We can’t just jump into this blindly.”

Logan nodded, a mixture of relief and determination in his eyes. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll figure things out together. I promise.”

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The first light of dawn seeped through the cracks in the dilapidated building where Y/N and Logan had spent the night. They had barely slept, huddled together in a small room with only a threadbare blanket for comfort. Y/N's eyes were red from crying and lack of sleep, and Logan's face was etched with exhaustion, but beneath it all, there was a flicker of determination.

“Jesus, what a fucking mess,” Logan muttered as he rolled out of bed, wincing at the stiffness in his body. His voice was rough, a mix of weariness and frustration. He glanced around the room, taking in the dusty furniture and peeling wallpaper. “This place isn’t exactly a five-star joint, but it’ll do for now.”

Y/N sat up, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve. “We can’t stay here long. We need to move, find a place where we can lay low and figure things out.”

Logan nodded, his gaze fixed on her. “You’re right. The longer we stay, the more chance we have of getting caught. I’m sure Marcus had connections and surely he talked about me. He wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who kept his mouth shut.”

Y/N rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of her nightmare-filled sleep. “I just can’t believe it’s really over. That we’re actually doing this.”

Logan moved closer, his voice softening as he spoke. “It’s real, alright. And it’s probably gonna be rough as hell. But we’ve got a shot at something better, Y/N. We just gotta keep moving, keep our heads down.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes full of a fragile hope. “And what about you, Logan? How are you holding up? I know you’re hurting, too.”

Logan grinned wryly, a hint of his old self peeking through his exhaustion. “I’ve been through worse. I’m still kicking, aren’t I? It’s not about me right now. It’s about making sure you’re safe.”

She smiled, a small, grateful curve of her lips. “Thank you. For everything. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“Hell, it wasn’t easy for either of us,” Logan replied, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “But that’s the way it goes. You deal with the crap life throws at you and hope for a bit of luck.”

They packed what little they had, their belongings hastily stuffed into a couple of old duffel bags. As they prepared to leave, Logan took a moment to glance back at the room they were leaving behind, a reminder of the chaos and danger they were escaping.

“Let’s get the hell out of here before someone shows up,” Logan said, his tone low and urgent. “The city’s not exactly safe, and we’ve got no time to waste.”

They made their way through the empty streets, their movements cautious and deliberate. The city was waking up, and with it came the hustle and bustle of a new day—one that neither of them had any intention of being a part of.

Y/N walked beside Logan, her hand occasionally brushing against his, a silent reminder of their shared journey. The streets were eerily quiet, the weight of their escape hanging heavily in the air. The city’s familiar sights were quickly becoming distant memories, replaced by the uncertainty of the open road ahead.

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, her voice breaking the silence. “Where do we go from here?”

Logan glanced at her, his eyes focused and serious. “We head north. There’s a cabin in the woods a few hundred miles away. It’s not much, but it’s off the grid. We can lay low there for a while, figure out our next move.”

Y/N nodded, absorbing the plan. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good,” Logan replied, a hint of a smile on his lips. “We’ll make it. We just need to stick together and stay smart.”

As they continued their journey, the reality of their situation began to sink in. They were fugitives now, their past lives left behind in the wreckage of Marcus’s wrath. But amidst the uncertainty and danger, there was a growing bond between them—one forged in the fires of their shared struggles and the hope for a new beginning.

They traveled through small towns and rural areas, staying off the beaten path and avoiding any unnecessary attention. Each night, they would find a place to rest, whether it was an abandoned house or a makeshift campsite. They made do with what they had, finding solace in their shared strength and resilience.

One evening, as they sat around a small campfire, Y/N turned to Logan, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames. “You know, I never thought I’d be here. On the run, hiding from everything. But having you here... it makes things a bit more bearable.”

Logan looked at her, his gaze softening. “You’re not alone, Y/N. We’ve got each other, and that’s something.”

She smiled, a small but genuine expression of warmth. “Yeah, it is. And it means more than you know.”

They sat in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire their only companion. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges and obstacles, but for the first time in a long time, there was a sense of hope—a belief that, despite everything, they might find a way to make it through together.

HUGH JACKMAN at WATERBOMB in KOREA (240705)

Logan vs. The Cooking Show

Summary: You convince Logan to participate in a local cooking show, thinking his rugged charm will win over the audience.

Pairing             : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Female!Human-reader

Genre              : Fluff

It was just another Saturday morning when you stumbled across the flyer. The local cooking show was holding auditions, and they were looking for “unique personalities” to compete. You couldn’t help but picture Logan strutting around the kitchen, his rugged charm mixed with culinary chaos.

“Logan, you gotta do this,” you said, waving the flyer in his face as he grunted in response, trying to sip his coffee like he wasn’t about to face the biggest disaster of his life.

“Hell no. I don’t do cooking shows,” he replied, glaring at you over the rim of his mug. His eyes narrowed, as if you had just suggested a cage fight with a grizzly bear.

“But think about it! You could totally win this thing! Just imagine the viewers swooning over the tough guy who can cook.” You leaned in, your excitement bubbling over. “They’ll eat it up! Literally!”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, I can barely boil water without blowin’ it up. I’m not about to set foot in a kitchen with cameras.”

You smirked, leaning closer. “But I’d be there. I’d help. And you know you wanna show off for me.”

He hesitated, his resolve faltering. “Show off? For you? Please.” But the slightest twitch at the corner of his lips told you he was already halfway in.

“C’mon! What’s the worst that could happen? It’ll be fun!”

Logan grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to shake off the impending doom. “Fine. But if I end up in the hospital because I burn something, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal!” You grinned, fist-pumping in victory.

The day of the cooking show arrived, and Logan looked like he was gearing up for a battle rather than a cooking competition. He wore his usual plaid shirt, but somehow, he managed to look even grumpier than usual.

The kitchen was set up with an array of ingredients and utensils that Logan clearly had never seen in his life. You stood beside him, trying to ignore the fact that the cameras were rolling, capturing every moment of Logan’s impending culinary disaster.

“Okay, Logan,” you said, pointing to a table full of fancy ingredients. “What do you want to make?”

He frowned, his gaze darting around like he was on a treasure hunt for something he recognized. “What the hell is ‘quinoa’? Is that some kinda birdseed?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, it’s a grain. It’s healthy!”

“Healthy, huh? Yeah, I’d rather have a steak,” he muttered, scowling as if the very thought of quinoa was an insult to his manliness.

As the show host introduced the challenge—a gourmet take on classic comfort food—Logan stared at the ingredients with a mixture of confusion and determination.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, grabbing a knife.

You watched in horror as he picked up the knife, not quite realizing how he was gripping it. “Logan, you might wanna be careful with—”

Slash!

The knife went flying, landing with a clatter on the floor. Logan blinked, eyes wide. “Shit! I didn’t mean to do that.”

You snorted, trying not to laugh. “It’s just a knife, Logan. Don’t go all Wolverine on it.”

He glared at you, muttering something under his breath. “Can’t believe I’m doing this…”

As the challenge progressed, it became clear that Logan had zero clue how to handle any of the ingredients. He picked up a jar labeled “sea salt” and held it like it was a grenade.

“Wait—what’s the difference between salt and sugar?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

You facepalmed. “Logan, seriously? Just taste it. You know what salt is!”

He unscrewed the cap and took a whiff, immediately making a face like he’d just bitten into a lemon. “Goddamn! This stuff smells like the ocean.”

“You’re supposed to sprinkle it in the dish, not huff it,” you said, laughing.

As he tried to sprinkle it over his mix of questionable ingredients, he accidentally poured half the jar into the bowl. You winced, anticipating the explosion of flavor that was about to hit everyone’s taste buds.

“Too much?” he asked, watching the white crystals pile up like a snowstorm.

“Uh, yeah. Just a tad,” you said, biting back laughter. “You might want to add a little bit of everything, not a whole freakin’ mountain.”

“Whatever. It’s all goin’ in,” he grunted, throwing in a handful of something else—was it cilantro?—and mixing it all together with an enthusiasm that was borderline terrifying.

When it came time to chop vegetables, the real fun began. Logan, who usually sliced through enemies like a hot knife through butter, was clearly out of his element. He tried to use his claws, only for you to shout, “No! Use the knife!”

“Fine! But if I end up slicing my hand off, I swear to God…”

“Just focus!” You could barely contain your laughter as he awkwardly maneuvered the knife, managing to barely chop a tomato without sending it flying across the kitchen.

“You know, I should’ve just brought a steak and called it a day,” he muttered, glaring at the tomatoes like they had personally offended him.

“Or you could make a steak with the tomatoes as a side. Just think of it as... ‘Logan’s Special’,” you suggested, grinning.

He shot you a look that said he’d rather face a hundred Sentinels than create a culinary masterpiece, but he sighed and went back to chopping, albeit a bit more carefully this time.

As the clock ticked down, the chaos reached new heights. Logan, sweating bullets, was trying to juggle too many things at once. He’d put the quinoa on to boil but had completely forgotten about it.

“Crap! The quinoa!” he yelled, running to the stove.

The pot was bubbling over, and steam was shooting out like a geyser. Logan slapped the lid on it, but not before a little bit of the grain spilled over the counter.

“Great. Just great. I’m gonna be cleaning this shit up for weeks,” he grumbled, glancing at the camera crew, who were barely containing their laughter.

“Just breathe, Logan. You’ve got this!” you encouraged, fighting back your own giggles.

“Yeah, I got this. Just me, a million ingredients I don’t understand, and a kitchen that’s about to explode,” he shot back, his hands moving in a way that clearly demonstrated his rising panic.

Finally, with only minutes left on the clock, Logan frantically assembled his “gourmet” dish. You couldn’t help but notice the sheer determination in his eyes, even as he nearly dumped an entire bottle of balsamic vinegar over everything.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you shouted, rushing over.

“It said to drizzle!” he protested, shaking the bottle like it was a ketchup dispenser.

“Drizzle, not drown! You’re gonna ruin it!”

He paused, a sheepish grin breaking through his frustration. “Guess I’m a little too enthusiastic, huh?”

“Just a bit,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes but appreciating his effort. “Just finish up, we’ve got seconds left.”

With one final flurry of chaos, he plated his “masterpiece.” It looked like a mess, but you could see the glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, holding up the plate like it was the Holy Grail.

You clapped your hands, genuinely impressed. “Not bad, tough guy. Not bad at all.”

“Yeah, well, if it sucks, I’m blaming you,” he said, crossing his arms, though you could tell he was trying to hide a smile.

The judges took their first bites, and you held your breath, half-expecting them to spit it out. But as they chewed, their eyes widened, and one of them exclaimed, “Wow! This is... surprisingly good!”

Logan blinked, clearly shocked. “Wait, what? Seriously?”

“Yeah! The flavors are... interesting. It’s like you combined everything perfectly!” another judge chimed in.

Logan’s face was a mix of disbelief and pride. “No way. You’re messin’ with me, right?”

“Honestly, you’ve got talent!” one judge said, smiling brightly.

You could hardly contain your laughter. “Told you so, Wolverine! Who knew you had hidden culinary skills?”

“Yeah, well, don’t expect me to make this a habit. I still prefer rare meat,” he replied, scratching his head. But there was a glimmer of triumph in his eyes.

As the show wrapped up, Logan was still riding high on the unexpected praise. “I can’t believe I didn’t burn the place down,” he said, shaking his head.

“You did great! I mean, apart from almost turning the kitchen into a disaster zone,” you teased.

“Whatever. I think I might’ve actually surprised myself,” he admitted, a genuine smile creeping onto his face.

“And me!” you added, nudging him playfully. “You might just have a future in the culinary world.”

“Only if it involves steaks and beer,” he said, shooting you a wink.

You leaned in closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “Hey, if you ever want to cook for me again, I’m totally down for it. Just maybe stick to simpler recipes next time?”

“Deal. But you’re doing the prep work,” he smirked, wrapping an arm around you. As you walked out together, the warmth of his embrace felt just right. You chuckled, thinking about the day’s chaos, and how it had only brought you closer. In the midst of cooking disasters and laughter, you found a little more of Logan’s soft side than you ever expected.

he’s so me😭

Can we get a Logan fic where the reader thought she was alone and started to.. yk what with herself and he hears it?

Already started🫣🫣thank you anon <333

Should be posted by tomorrow afternoon (1-3PM EST). I’ll link it here when it’s up :)

Tags, anyone?

Hulk vs. Wolverine: Cataclysmic Clash

Summary: Wolverine ventures into the forest to investigate suspicious activities tied to a government experiment. There, he encounters the Hulk, who has been driven into a violent rage. A brutal battle breaks out between the two as Wolverine tries to subdue the Hulk. Both struggle to overpower each other, leading to a fierce and destructive fight.

The air crackled with tension as Logan trudged through the dense forest, boots crunching against the damp ground. His senses were on high alert—something wasn’t right. It had been days since he got word about strange activity up in these mountains, government experiments and all kinds of nasty business. The kind that always ended up biting everyone in the ass.

Logan lit a cigarette, taking a deep drag and exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Typical government shit. Can’t go a week without some asshat in a lab coat tryin’ to play God,” he muttered, flicking the ash aside. He was used to dealing with this kind of crap, but this time, something felt off. His gut told him it was bigger than usual.

Then, he heard it—a deep, rumbling roar that shook the trees, sending a flock of birds scattering into the sky. Logan stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes.

“Aw, hell,” he grumbled. “That’s never a good sound.”

Another roar echoed through the forest, closer this time. Logan clenched his fists, claws itching to come out. He knew exactly what was coming. He’d faced it before. Only this time, he wasn’t sure if he could stop it alone.

Suddenly, the ground trembled beneath his feet. Trees splintered and toppled over like matchsticks, and there he was—the Hulk, a towering mass of rage and destruction, barreling through the forest like a freight train.

“Damn it, Banner,” Logan muttered, spitting his cigarette to the ground. “What the hell did you get yourself into this time?”

The Hulk came crashing through the trees, smashing everything in his path. His green skin glistened with sweat and fury, his eyes wild and unfocused. He wasn’t thinking—just smashing. And Logan was right in his way.

“Hey, big guy!” Logan shouted, unsheathing his claws with a snikt. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

Hulk’s gaze snapped to Logan, and for a split second, there was recognition. But it was quickly replaced by the kind of rage only Bruce Banner’s dark side could conjure. Hulk let out a bellowing roar and charged straight at Logan.

Logan barely had time to react as Hulk swung a massive fist at him. He ducked, the punch narrowly missing his head but sending a nearby tree flying instead. “Goddamn it!” Logan growled, slashing at Hulk’s side with his claws.

Hulk roared in pain, but it only made him angrier. He grabbed Logan by the scruff of his jacket and hurled him through the air like a ragdoll. Logan crashed into a boulder, feeling his ribs crack on impact.

“Son of a bitch,” Logan groaned, pushing himself to his feet. His healing factor was already kicking in, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Alright, you big green bastard, let’s do this.”

He sprinted toward Hulk, claws extended. This wasn’t going to be an easy fight—hell, Logan had no idea if he could even win. But he wasn’t about to back down.

Hulk swung again, and this time, Logan ducked low, slicing at the monster’s legs. Blood sprayed from the wounds, but they healed almost as fast as Logan’s. It was like fighting a goddamn mirror.

“C’mon, Hulk, snap out of it!” Logan shouted, dodging another punch. “I know you’re in there somewhere, Banner!”

But Hulk wasn’t listening. He grabbed a chunk of earth and hurled it at Logan, who barely managed to leap out of the way. Dirt and debris rained down, blinding him for a moment. When he cleared his eyes, Hulk was already upon him.

With a thunderous crash, Hulk slammed both fists into the ground where Logan had been standing just moments before. The shockwave sent Logan flying, but he twisted in mid-air, landing on his feet.

“Ya gotta be faster than that, bub,” Logan taunted, his voice rough and gritty. He knew Hulk wasn’t one for banter, but it made him feel better to talk shit.

Hulk roared again, charging like a bull. Logan had no choice but to meet him head-on, claws slashing through the air. The two collided in a flurry of fists and claws, each trying to overpower the other.

Logan managed to get a few good hits in, carving deep gashes in Hulk’s flesh, but it wasn’t enough. Hulk grabbed him by the arm and swung him like a baseball bat, slamming him into the side of a mountain.

Logan felt his bones shatter, but his healing factor kicked in almost instantly. He groaned as he pulled himself free from the rubble. “Alright, that one hurt,” he muttered, spitting out a glob of blood. “But I’ve had worse.”

Hulk let out another roar, pounding his chest like a gorilla. He was losing control, and Logan knew if he didn’t stop him soon, there’d be nothing left of this forest—or the nearby town.

Logan wiped the blood from his mouth and charged again, this time with a plan. He couldn’t outmuscle Hulk, but maybe he could outthink him. As he sprinted toward the green giant, he noticed a nearby cliff.

“Hey, big guy!” Logan called, getting Hulk’s attention. “You ever heard of gravity?”

Hulk roared and charged at him, fists raised. At the last second, Logan dodged to the side, letting Hulk barrel past him. The momentum carried Hulk right to the edge of the cliff, and before he could stop himself, he tumbled over the side, crashing into the rocks below.

Logan stood at the edge, breathing heavily as he looked down at the destruction. “That oughta slow him down,” he muttered. But as the dust cleared, he saw Hulk stirring, already starting to get back up.

“Aw, c’mon, give me a break,” Logan grumbled. “This guy just doesn’t quit.”

Hulk pulled himself to his feet, shaking off the rocks like they were nothing. He let out another deafening roar, his rage palpable even from a distance.

Logan knew he couldn’t keep this up forever. He needed to get Banner back in control, and fast. But how the hell do you calm down a monster like Hulk?

Then it hit him. Maybe he couldn’t calm Hulk down, but he could sure as hell piss him off in the right way.

“Hey, Banner!” Logan shouted, his voice echoing through the canyon. “You wanna know why you keep losing control? ‘Cause deep down, you’re just a scared little kid, hiding behind all that green muscle. You ain’t the strongest there is—you’re just the angriest.”

Hulk’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something—recognition, maybe? But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by another wave of uncontrollable fury.

“Worth a shot,” Logan muttered, bracing himself as Hulk charged again.

The two collided once more, the impact shaking the ground beneath them. Logan slashed and clawed, but Hulk’s raw power was overwhelming. He grabbed Logan by the throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into a nearby boulder.

Logan gasped for air, his vision going blurry. “This is gettin’ real old, real fast,” he wheezed, trying to pry Hulk’s hand off his neck.

But before Hulk could finish him off, a flash of something caught his eye—something that stopped him in his tracks.

Logan turned his head, his breath coming in ragged gasps. And there, standing on the cliffside, was Bruce Banner.

“Logan…” Banner’s voice was weak, but it was him. The real Banner. “Stop… fighting…”

Hulk’s grip loosened, his massive form trembling as Banner struggled for control. Logan gasped for air, dropping to the ground as Hulk stepped back, clutching his head.

“Banner… you there, bub?” Logan croaked, rubbing his bruised throat.

Banner’s voice was shaky. “I’m… trying… but I can’t hold it… much longer…”

Logan got to his feet, dusting himself off. “Alright, then. Let’s end this.”

With one last burst of strength, Logan charged forward, slashing at Hulk’s legs and bringing the giant to his knees. Hulk roared in pain, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t the mindless rage from before—it was the sound of someone fighting for control.

Banner’s voice cut through the noise. “Logan… I need your help… I can’t… do this alone…”

Logan paused, claws still extended. He’d fought Hulk a hundred times before, but this… this was different. He could see Banner, really see him, fighting to stay in control.

“Alright, Banner,” Logan muttered, retracting his claws. “You wanna do this the hard way, fine. But you owe me a beer when this is over.”

Hulk’s body convulsed, the green fading from his skin as Banner slowly regained control. Logan stood back, watching as the monster shrank down, leaving a bruised and battered Bruce Banner lying in the dirt.

Logan knelt down, offering Banner a hand. “You good, doc?”

Banner nodded weakly, taking Logan’s hand and pulling himself to his feet. “Thanks… Logan. I didn’t think… I’d be able to stop him.”

Logan smirked, lighting another cigarette. “Yeah, well, you’re lucky I’m still around to bail your ass out,” Logan said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette. “Next time, maybe you’ll keep that green rage monster of yours on a tighter leash.”

Bruce Banner rubbed his forehead, exhaustion setting in. “I didn’t ask for this, Logan,” he muttered. “Something… something went wrong with the experiment. I was supposed to help contain it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, exhaling a puff of smoke. “Contain what, exactly?”

Banner leaned against a tree, catching his breath. “The government was running tests—genetic modification, bio-enhancement. Trying to create a more stable version of… well, me. But something went sideways, and whatever they created, it got loose. That’s why I was out here, trying to stop it.”

Logan shook his head, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground. “You government types never learn, do ya? Messin’ with shit you don’t understand. Now we’ve got a freak show on the loose, and you’re the only one who knows how to stop it.”

Banner looked up at Logan, his expression grim. “It’s worse than that, Logan. It’s not just some experiment gone wrong. It’s… evolving. Whatever it is, it’s getting stronger. Smarter.”

Logan gritted his teeth, his claws itching to come out again. “Great. Just what I needed—a science project with an attitude problem.”

Suddenly, the ground shook beneath their feet again, this time more violently than before. Logan’s heightened senses flared, and he could hear the distant rumble of something massive moving through the forest.

“Shit,” Logan muttered, popping his claws. “Guess that’s our cue.”

Banner’s eyes widened. “It’s coming. We have to stop it before it reaches the town.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Logan growled. “You stay back, Banner. I’ll take point.”

Banner shook his head. “You don’t understand, Logan. You can’t fight this thing the way you fought me. It’s—”

“I don’t give a damn what it is,” Logan cut him off. “If it bleeds, I can kill it.”

Before Banner could argue, the monstrous roar echoed through the trees again, closer this time. The trees in front of them began to sway and crack, as if something enormous was pushing its way through the forest.

And then, it emerged.

The creature was a grotesque amalgamation of muscle, metal, and twisted biology. Its skin was mottled with patches of green, grey, and black, its body a hulking mass of sinew and wires. Glowing red eyes peered out from a skull-like face, and its breath came in ragged, mechanical hisses. It stood nearly twice the size of the Hulk, towering over the landscape like some kind of biomechanical nightmare.

“Jesus,” Logan muttered, staring up at the abomination. “What the hell did they cook up in that lab, Banner?”

Banner’s face paled. “It’s… it’s worse than I thought. It’s merging with the technology. It’s adapting.”

The creature let out a deafening roar, slamming its fists into the ground with enough force to send shockwaves rippling through the earth. Logan barely managed to keep his footing.

“Aw, hell,” Logan growled, rolling his shoulders. “Guess there’s only one way to deal with ugly.”

With a feral snarl, Logan launched himself at the creature, claws outstretched. He slashed at its legs, carving deep wounds into its flesh. But to his shock, the wounds began to heal almost immediately, the creature’s body regenerating at an alarming rate.

“Goddamn it,” Logan muttered, dodging a swipe from the creature’s massive arm. “This thing’s got Banner’s healing factor, too?”

Banner, still standing at a distance, called out. “Logan! It’s using my DNA! It’s like a twisted version of me, but it’s more advanced. You can’t take it down like this!”

“Then what the hell do you suggest?” Logan shouted, narrowly avoiding a punch that would’ve flattened him.

Banner looked around frantically. “There’s got to be a weakness! It’s not fully stable yet. If we can find a way to overload its system, we might be able to—”

Logan didn’t let him finish. He was too busy dodging and weaving, trying to stay one step ahead of the creature’s relentless attacks. Each time he slashed at it, the damn thing just healed itself right back up. It was like fighting an indestructible tank.

“Logan! The power source—it’s in its chest!” Banner yelled, pointing at the faint glow of a mechanical core embedded in the creature’s chest. “If we can destroy that, we might be able to take it down!”

“Now you’re talkin’,” Logan growled, eyes narrowing on the target. “Let’s see how tough this thing really is.”

With a roar of his own, Logan sprinted toward the creature, dodging its wild swings as he zeroed in on the glowing core. He leapt into the air, claws poised to strike.

But the creature was faster than he anticipated. It lashed out with its massive arm, catching Logan in mid-air and slamming him into the ground with bone-crushing force.

Logan groaned, feeling his ribs snap as the air was knocked from his lungs. His healing factor kicked in, but the pain was still intense. He struggled to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth.

“Logan!” Banner shouted, panic in his voice. “You have to—”

“Shut up, Banner!” Logan growled, spitting blood. “I know what I gotta do.”

Ignoring the pain, Logan charged again, this time with even more determination. The creature swung at him, but Logan was ready. He ducked under its arm, using his momentum to drive his claws deep into its chest.

The creature let out a screech of agony as Logan’s claws tore through its flesh, reaching for the glowing core. Sparks flew as metal and muscle gave way, and for a moment, Logan thought he had it.

But then, the creature’s other arm slammed into him, knocking him away before he could destroy the core. Logan hit the ground hard, skidding to a stop in a cloud of dirt and debris.

“Goddamn it,” Logan muttered, pushing himself up again. He wasn’t about to quit—not with a town full of innocent people on the line.

The creature, clearly enraged, charged at him again, but Logan was already moving. He ducked and weaved between its attacks, slashing at its legs and torso, looking for any opening he could exploit.

“Banner!” Logan called out, dodging another swipe. “You got any bright ideas, or are you just gonna stand there like a damn tree?”

Banner snapped out of his daze. “The core! It’s not just biological—it’s mechanical too! If we can overload it with an energy source—”

Logan grinned. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

With a final burst of speed, Logan leapt onto the creature’s back, driving his claws into its spine. The beast roared in fury, thrashing wildly, but Logan held on, climbing toward the glowing core.

“Hey, ugly!” Logan shouted as he reached the chest. “Time to say goodnight.”

With a savage snarl, Logan plunged his claws into the core, slashing at the wires and circuits inside. Sparks flew, and the creature let out a deafening screech as its body convulsed.

For a moment, everything was still. Then, with a blinding flash of light, the core exploded, sending Logan flying through the air.

He hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop several feet away. Groaning, he pushed himself up, his body aching from the impact. The creature lay motionless, its body smoking and twitching as the last of its life drained away.

Logan wiped the blood from his face, panting heavily. “That’s what you get for messin’ with Wolverine.”

Banner hurried over, his face pale but relieved. “You did it, Logan. You stopped it.”

Logan grunted, lighting another cigarette. “Yeah, well, next time you get a bright idea like this, maybe give me a heads up before all hell breaks loose.”

Banner chuckled weakly. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Logan took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “So, about that beer…”

Banner smiled. “You’ve definitely earned it.”

Logan grinned, popping his claws back in with a snikt. “Damn right I have.”

The two of them stood there, side by side, watching as the creature’s body slowly disintegrated into nothing but ash. It was over—for now, at least. But Logan knew better than to think this was the last time he’d find himself in a mess like this.

“Let’s get outta here,” Logan said, turning to leave. “I need a drink.”

Banner nodded, following close behind. “And maybe a break from all this madness.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, good luck with that, bub.”

As they walked away, the forest quieted once more, the air still heavy with the aftermath of the battle. But for Logan, it was just another day in the life of a mutant—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.