Marked By Claws

Marked By Claws

Summary: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett had fought in wars, faced down enemies, and lived through more lifetimes than most could imagine. He was used to being alone. Until she came along—a regular human, fragile but captivating. Logan tried to fight it, convincing himself it was just instinct to protect someone so vulnerable. But soon, that protectiveness turned into something darker, something possessive.

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

Genre              : Fluff, Angst

The rain poured down in sheets outside the bar, casting a dreary haze over the darkened streets. Logan sat in his usual spot, hunched over his glass of whiskey, but his mind wasn’t on the drink. His thoughts were elsewhere—on her. The woman he couldn’t shake from his head no matter how hard he tried. The one he watched every night as she walked home from work.

It started innocently enough, or at least that’s what he told himself. She had an air about her, something that drew him in, something different from the countless others who passed through this crumbling town. But it wasn’t her scent or her face that haunted him—no, it was something deeper, something in the way she moved, the way she existed in a world that would chew her up if given the chance.

Logan’s jaw tightened as he stared out the rain-streaked window. She was late tonight. That wasn’t like her. She always passed by around this time, her coat pulled tight against the wind, her pace brisk. But tonight? Nothing.

The rain tapped harder against the glass as if mocking his rising tension.

Where the hell is she?

Logan grunted under his breath, shaking off the thought. He had no right to care. Not really. She was just some human. Fragile. Helpless. The kind that needed watching in a world like this. That’s all it was. He was just keeping an eye out.

Yeah. That’s what he told himself.

His fingers twitched, the edge of his claws tingling beneath his skin.

Relax, Logan.

But he couldn’t. Not with her out there somewhere, vulnerable and exposed. He drained the last of his drink, pushing back the itch of frustration. His mind wandered again, replaying the first time he saw her. She had been crossing the street in a hurry, nearly getting clipped by some jackass in a truck. Logan had stepped out of the bar just in time to see her stumble back to the curb, a look of startled relief washing over her face. He hadn’t thought much of it at first. Hell, people nearly got themselves killed every day in this shitty town. But something about her stuck with him. Maybe it was the way she barely reacted, like she was used to near-misses. Or maybe it was the way she held herself—quiet, careful, like someone who had learned how to stay invisible in a dangerous world. Whatever it was, Logan had noticed her. And he hadn’t stopped noticing her since.

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You were later than usual tonight, your shoes splashing in the puddles as you hurried down the familiar street. Work had been hell, dragging on longer than it should have, and now you were paying the price by walking home in the pouring rain. The chill in the air cut through your coat, making you shiver as you pulled it tighter around yourself.

The bar you passed every night was still open, the neon sign flickering in the downpour. You barely glanced at it as you walked by, too focused on getting home and out of the wet. You didn’t notice the eyes watching you from the shadows.

Logan leaned against the brick wall outside the bar, his hands stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. He had already spotted you the moment you turned the corner, his gaze following your every move. You were soaked, shivering, clearly exhausted from your day. His instincts told him to step forward, to offer help. But he stayed where he was, watching. Always watching.

You were close now, close enough that he could catch the faint scent of your skin beneath the rain. His hand twitched, wanting to reach out, wanting to touch.

“Evenin’,” he muttered, voice low and rough.

You jumped at the sound, your wide eyes snapping to his in surprise. “Oh… I didn’t see you there.”

Logan shrugged, pushing himself off the wall. He took a drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing dimly in the gloom. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

You offered him a faint smile, though the tension in your shoulders told him you were still wary. Smart girl. In a place like this, you couldn’t afford not to be.

“I’ve seen you around,” you said, awkwardly breaking the silence. “You’re always at the bar, right?”

Logan nodded. “Yeah. Guess you could say it’s my second home.”

He watched you carefully, noting the way your eyes darted toward the road, clearly eager to keep moving. The rain was coming down harder now, drenching your clothes. You shivered again, and Logan’s brow furrowed.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice gruffer than he intended.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden concern. “Oh, yeah… it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“Don’t look fine,” Logan muttered, stepping closer before he could stop himself. His eyes flickered down the street. “You gotta walk far?”

“Just a few more blocks,” you replied, taking a step back instinctively. “I’ll be fine.”

Fine. That word again. You weren’t fine. You didn’t have a clue how dangerous it was out here. And that guy from the other night—the one who’d been walking with you, laughing, trying to get close—that asshole didn’t sit right with Logan. Guys like him didn’t just walk women home out of the goodness of their hearts. He could smell the bullshit from a mile away.

Logan’s jaw clenched. “You alone tonight?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

He took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly. “That guy from before. The one with the umbrella.”

“Oh, Mike?” you said, realizing who he was talking about. “He’s just a coworker.”

Logan grunted, his gaze sharp. “Coworker, huh? He’s lookin’ for more than that, trust me.”

You laughed softly, though there was an edge of nervousness in it. “No, it’s not like that. He’s harmless.”

Logan’s eyes darkened. Harmless. He’d heard that line before. It was never harmless. Guys like Mike? They took what they wanted, one way or another.

“Listen,” he said, his voice dropping lower, “guys like him, they don’t give a shit about bein’ nice. They just want somethin’ from ya. You should be more careful.”

You frowned, clearly taken aback by his intensity. “I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”

Logan’s grip on his cigarette tightened, the ember flaring brightly before he flicked it to the ground, grinding it under his boot. He wanted to argue, to tell you how wrong you were, how naïve. But he held back. Barely.

“Yeah, well, just… watch yourself,” he muttered, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

You nodded slowly, still unsure what to make of him. “I will. Thanks, Logan.”

Hearing his name from your lips sent a strange jolt through him, something primal, something possessive. He watched as you turned to leave, disappearing into the rain once again. The pull was stronger now. Each time he saw you, each time you spoke, it tightened like a noose around his mind.

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Days passed, and Logan found himself drifting closer to you without meaning to. He’d catch himself waiting by the bar, his eyes scanning the street, searching for that familiar form. Every time you walked by, something inside him shifted, grew darker. He knew he was crossing a line, but the beast in him didn’t care. You were his to protect, to watch over. Even if you didn’t know it.

He trailed you one night, his footsteps silent as he kept to the shadows. You were walking home, same route, same hurried pace. But this time, something was off. You were on edge, glancing over your shoulder every few steps. Someone had spooked you.

Logan’s senses kicked into high gear. His nostrils flared, picking up the scent of someone else. Someone nearby.

His claws itched beneath his skin, ready to tear into anyone who thought they could mess with you. He didn’t care if it was Mike or some other lowlife. Whoever it was, they were gonna pay.

He stayed a few steps behind, watching as you quickened your pace, clearly feeling the unease. But before he could make a move, you stopped, turning suddenly as if sensing him.

Your eyes locked with his, wide and startled.

“Logan?”

Shit. He hadn’t meant for you to see him. But there was no going back now.

“Hey,” he said, stepping out of the shadows, his voice casual despite the tension crackling in the air.

You stared at him, clearly unsettled. “Were you… following me?”

Logan’s jaw clenched, but he forced a smile. “Nah. Just keepin’ an eye out.”

“Why?”

His gaze darkened, the protective edge creeping back into his voice. “Because you need it.”

You stood there, staring at him like you didn’t know whether to be pissed off or scared. Logan could tell. It was written all over your face—the way your brows furrowed, lips pressed tight, trying to make sense of him. Of why a man like him would care about a woman like you. Hell, even he couldn’t explain it fully.

“Look,” you said, exhaling a shaky breath, “I don’t need a babysitter, Logan. I can handle myself.”

“Handle yourself?” Logan scoffed, stepping closer, his boots splashing through the puddles. “You’ve got no clue what’s lurkin’ out there. This ain’t about handlein’ yourself—it’s about survivin’.” His voice was gravelly, laced with the kind of warning that only someone who’d lived through hell could deliver.

You bristled, clearly not in the mood for whatever this was. “Surviving? You make it sound like I’m living in some warzone.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “You are, sweetheart. Just ‘cause you don’t see the bullets flyin’ don’t mean they ain’t there.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting that kind of response. “What are you talking about? This is just—”

“Just what?” Logan interrupted, his voice gruffer now, his temper flaring. “You think people in this town are all playin’ nice? You think that guy, Mike, your little ‘coworker,’ ain’t lookin’ to get somethin’ outta you?”

You clenched your fists, the frustration rising. “He’s not like that. Not everyone is out to hurt me, Logan.”

He let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You’re so damn blind, y’know that? Guys like him? They don’t just walk you home outta the kindness of their hearts.”

You took a step back, your gaze flickering with uncertainty. “You don’t know him.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he took another step closer, his presence towering over you. “I don’t need to know him. I know his type.”

There was silence for a moment, just the sound of rain and your uneven breathing. You looked torn—part of you angry, part of you unsure, like maybe, deep down, some part of you knew Logan was right.

But you wouldn’t admit it.

“I’m going home,” you muttered, turning to leave, your voice shaking a little. “I don’t need this right now.”

Logan’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist—not hard, but enough to make you stop in your tracks. He felt the heat of your pulse under his fingers, quick and erratic. His grip was firm, but he kept his claws in check, just barely. He could feel the beast inside him gnashing its teeth, wanting to drag you back, to keep you right there where he could watch you. Protect you.

“Logan,” you warned, your voice low. “Let go.”

He didn’t. Not right away. He couldn’t.

For a second, neither of you moved. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something—he didn’t even know what. Maybe he was looking for a reason to stop. Maybe he was looking for permission.

But all he found was your fear. That familiar mix of terror and curiosity. And God help him, it did something to him. Made him want to pull you closer, claim you, make sure no one else ever laid a hand on you. He could protect you better than anyone. He needed to.

But then your voice broke through his haze. “Logan,” you whispered, softer this time. “Please. Let go.”

That word—please—it cut through him in a way he didn’t expect. He blinked, his grip loosening until you slipped free, taking a step back as if putting distance between the two of you could fix whatever the hell this was.

“Go home,” Logan muttered, turning away, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets to keep from grabbing you again. “Get inside before someone else finds you out here.”

You hesitated, standing there in the rain for a moment longer, watching him. Logan could feel your eyes on him, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. He was too close to snapping. Too close to letting the obsession inside him spill out.

Finally, you nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Goodnight, Logan.”

And then you were gone, your footsteps retreating into the distance, leaving Logan alone in the rain with nothing but his thoughts and the dark, gnawing hunger that came with them.

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Logan didn’t follow you home that night. He stayed rooted where you’d left him, letting the rain wash over him until it felt like it could scrub the wild thoughts from his mind. But it didn’t. Nothing could.

She’ll come around, he told himself. She has to.

But days passed, and you didn’t. You didn’t pass by the bar as often, didn’t give him more than a quick nod or an awkward wave when you did. He knew you were avoiding him, and that only made the itch under his skin worse. He wasn’t stupid—he knew he’d scared you. Hell, maybe that was for the best. Maybe if you stayed away, he wouldn’t have to deal with this… this thing inside him.

Except you didn’t stay away, not completely. And Logan couldn’t help but keep tabs on you.

It was a couple of weeks later when things started going south. He noticed it one night while he was out on a run—your apartment lights were on later than usual, shadows moving across the windows. At first, he thought you had someone over. Mike, maybe? His gut twisted at the idea, a low growl rumbling in his throat. But then, he caught a different scent. One that didn’t sit right with him.

Fear.

His instincts flared to life, sharper than before, and without thinking, Logan was on the move, crossing the streets with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible for a guy his size. He slipped into the alley beside your building, the rain-soaked bricks gleaming under the streetlights. He crouched low, his ears straining to hear anything unusual.

And then he caught it. A muffled shout. Your voice.

Logan didn’t even think. His claws slid out with a metallic snikt, and in seconds, he was scaling the fire escape, his senses guiding him straight to your apartment. The window was cracked open, just enough for him to push it aside and slip inside without making a sound.

The scene in front of him made his blood boil.

You were backed up against the wall, your hands out in front of you, trying to ward off a man who was way too close. Mike. Of course it was fucking Mike. He was drunk, that much was obvious. His hands were on you, grabbing at your arms, slurring something Logan couldn’t make out over the roar of rage in his ears.

“C’mon, babe,” Mike was muttering, leaning in way too close for comfort. “Don’t be like that…”

You tried to push him away, but he wasn’t having it. He grabbed your wrist hard, yanking you back toward him. That was all Logan needed to see.

Before Mike could even react, Logan was on him, grabbing the bastard by the collar and throwing him across the room like he weighed nothing. Mike slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, his eyes going wide as he tried to process what just happened.

“What the fuck?!” Mike gasped, clutching his head in pain as he tried to scramble to his feet.

Logan didn’t give him the chance. He was across the room in an instant, his claws gleaming in the dim light as he stood over Mike, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. “Touch her again, and I’ll rip you apart,” Logan snarled, his voice barely human.

Mike’s face paled, his eyes darting between Logan’s claws and the murderous look on his face. “Jesus, man! I didn’t—”

“Get. Out,” Logan growled, his claws twitching dangerously close to Mike’s face.

Mike didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with terror as he bolted out the door, stumbling down the hallway. Logan didn’t watch him go. His attention was on you now.

You were standing there, your back pressed against the wall, your breathing shallow and uneven. Your eyes were wide with shock, staring at Logan like you didn’t quite know what to make of him. Like maybe, for the first time, you were seeing the monster everyone warned you about.

Logan stepped toward you, his claws still out, his breathing heavy. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through him, the beast inside still roaring for blood, still wanting to tear Mike apart for even daring to touch you.

But then he saw the way you were looking at him—the fear in your eyes, the trembling in your hands—and it stopped him cold.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, trying to pull himself back. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t convincing. You were still in shock, still processing everything that had just happened.

“I didn’t mean to—” Logan started, but he cut himself off. What could he even say? He hadn’t meant to scare you, hadn’t meant to make things worse. But that was the thing about him. He always made things worse.

You took a shaky breath, your eyes flickering down to his claws, still extended, still sharp. “Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Your claws…”

Logan blinked, realizing he hadn’t retracted them yet. With a grunt, he forced the metal back into his hands, the familiar sting reminding him of what he was. A monster. Something that didn’t belong in your world.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, stepping back, giving you space. “I didn’t mean to—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “No… no, I’m glad you were here. He… he wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what to do.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “You don’t ever have to deal with that. Not as long as I’m around.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, like maybe you were starting to understand. Like maybe you were starting to see him for what he really was—someone who’d do anything to protect you, no matter how ugly it got.

And that was dangerous.

But for now, you were grateful. For now, you needed him.

And for Logan, that was enough.

You were still shaking, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Logan could hear it, the way your heart was racing, the fear still pulsing under your skin. But there was something else now—something different in the way you looked at him. Not just fear.

Trust.

And that was enough to make him stay, to not walk away from this mess he’d created. He could’ve left—should’ve left. But instead, he lingered in your apartment, watching you try to catch your breath, your eyes darting from him to the door where Mike had fled.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, rubbing your arms like you were trying to shake off the whole thing. “I didn’t think—”

“Don’t,” Logan interrupted, his voice gruff but softer than usual. “Don’t apologize for that piece of shit.”

You looked up at him, your eyes still wide, searching his face. “I just… I thought he was a friend. You know? I didn’t think he’d…”

Logan’s jaw tightened again, and he fought the urge to go after Mike, to track him down and finish what he’d started. But that wouldn’t help you right now. That’d only make things worse.

“He’s not your friend,” Logan muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Guys like him? They’re never just friends.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, staring at the ground like you didn’t want to admit he was right. Like maybe you’d known all along but didn’t want to believe it.

“I feel like an idiot,” you said finally, a shaky laugh escaping your lips. “God, I feel so fucking stupid.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re not stupid. You’re just… too damn trusting.”

You looked up at him again, a small, bitter smile playing on your lips. “That a bad thing?”

“For most people? Yeah. For you? It’s gonna get you hurt.”

There it was—the bluntness, the gruff honesty that Logan couldn’t turn off, no matter how hard he tried. And even though you looked like you wanted to argue with him, you didn’t. You just nodded, like you understood. Like maybe you were starting to see the world the way he did.

Logan let out a slow breath, running a hand through his damp hair, trying to shake off the tension that still coiled tight in his muscles. He wanted to stay close, make sure you were safe, but he didn’t want to scare you any more than he already had.

“I’ll stay outta your way,” Logan muttered, moving toward the window he’d come in through. “Just… lock the door after me, alright?”

You blinked, surprised. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, his back to you now, already halfway through the window. “I ain’t gonna crowd you.”

Before you could say anything, he was gone, slipping out into the night like he hadn’t just saved you from a man who could’ve hurt you. Like he hadn’t just shown you a side of him you weren’t sure how to feel about.

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The next few days passed in a strange blur. You went back to work, went about your life, but things didn’t feel the same. You kept looking over your shoulder, half-expecting Mike to show up again, but he didn’t. Logan had taken care of that.

You hadn’t seen Logan since that night, though you’d felt his presence more than once. You couldn’t explain it, but you just knew he was around, watching from the shadows, keeping an eye on you. And part of you should’ve been creeped out by that—should’ve wanted him to back off.

But you didn’t.

In fact, it made you feel… safe. Safer than you had in a long time.

Which was why, on the third night after the incident, you found yourself standing outside the bar where Logan usually hung around, staring at the door like an idiot, wondering why the hell you were even here. You hadn’t planned on seeing him again, hadn’t planned on… whatever this was. But something in you pulled you here.

Maybe you just wanted to say thanks. Maybe you just needed to know he was still watching over you.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. The smell of beer and cigarettes hit you immediately, the dim lighting casting shadows over the bar, the low murmur of conversation filling the room. And there he was, sitting at the end of the bar, a beer in front of him, looking like he hadn’t moved since the last time you saw him.

You hesitated for a moment, watching him from the door. He hadn’t noticed you yet—at least, you didn’t think he had. But then, without even turning his head, he spoke.

“Gonna stand there all night, or you gonna come over here?”

You blinked, caught off guard, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Of course, he’d sensed you. Logan wasn’t the kind of guy you could sneak up on.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over to him, slipping onto the barstool beside him. He didn’t look at you, just kept his eyes on his beer, his jaw tight like he was waiting for you to speak first.

“You always know when someone’s watching you?” you asked, your voice light, trying to break the tension.

Logan let out a low grunt. “Call it a survival skill.”

You chuckled softly, though the sound felt a little forced. “Guess I don’t have that skill. Not like you.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn’t need it.”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the conversation. You hadn’t really thought about what you’d say when you came here. Now, sitting next to him, you realized you didn’t just want to thank him—you wanted to understand him. You wanted to know why he felt so… protective of you. Why he’d risked so much.

“Why are you doing this, Logan?” you asked quietly, your eyes on him, searching for answers. “Why do you care so much?”

He didn’t answer right away. He took a slow sip of his beer, his eyes distant, like he was lost in thought. Then, after what felt like forever, he spoke.

“You ever have somethin’ you just… couldn’t explain?” he muttered, his voice low, rough. “Somethin’ that got under your skin and stayed there?”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Logan finally turned to look at you, his eyes dark, intense. “That’s what you are, darlin’. You’re under my skin.”

The air between you felt heavy, charged with something neither of you could quite name. You stared at him, your heart racing, unsure of what to say. What did he even mean by that? Was it obsession? Protection? Something else entirely?

“You’re just… under my skin,” he repeated, his voice softer this time, like he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear it. “And I can’t shake it.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. There was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that you hadn’t expected from a man like him. It wasn’t just about protection. It was more than that.

And that scared you. But it also drew you in.

“Logan,” you whispered, not even sure what you were going to say.

But before you could finish, he stood up, draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle down on the bar with a heavy thud.

“Forget it,” he muttered, his voice gruff again. “I shouldn’t have said nothin’.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift. “Wait, what? Logan—”

But he was already walking away, heading for the door like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Like he was running from something.

From you.

You stared after him, your mind racing, your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected any of this. But now that you knew—now that you understood what was going on in his head—you weren’t sure how to feel.

But one thing was for sure: Logan wasn’t just some protector. He wasn’t just looking out for you out of some sense of duty or responsibility.

He was obsessed.

And now, you had to figure out what the hell you were going to do about it.

You sat there in the bar, still processing Logan’s words, the way he had looked at you—like you were something he couldn’t escape, something tangled up in his very being. The intensity of it left you breathless. And the way he had just walked out? Like he was scared? That didn’t sit right.

Without thinking, you stood up and followed him, pushing through the bar’s door into the cool night air. The street was quiet, lit by the dim glow of streetlights, and you could see him walking away, shoulders hunched, his pace faster than usual, like he couldn’t wait to disappear into the shadows.

“Logan!” you called out, your voice cutting through the silence.

He stopped but didn’t turn around. For a moment, you thought he might just keep walking, leaving you standing there. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he sighed and turned to face you, his expression hard to read.

“What do you want, kid?” he grumbled, though his tone was softer now, not as sharp as before.

You swallowed, your nerves buzzing. “I want to know what the hell you meant back there.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have—”

“No,” you interrupted, stepping closer. “I’m not gonna forget it. You said I’m under your skin, and then you just walked out. That’s not fair, Logan.”

He looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable. It was like he was struggling, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. And for the first time, you realized how hard this was for him. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t used to feeling like this.

“I ain’t good for you,” he muttered, his voice rough. “You deserve better than… this.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Better than what? Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count? Someone who cares about me? Logan, I’m not scared of you. Not after everything.”

He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “You should be. You don’t know what it’s like—what I’m like. I can’t give you a normal life. Hell, I don’t even know what normal looks like anymore.”

You stepped closer, your heart pounding, but you didn’t back down. You weren’t scared. Not of him. Not of whatever this was between you two.

“I don’t want normal,” you said softly, your eyes locked on his. “I want you.”

That stopped him in his tracks. Logan froze, his eyes widening just a fraction, like he hadn’t expected that. Like he didn’t know how to process what you were saying.

“You don’t know what you’re sayin',” he muttered, but there was no conviction behind his words now. “I’m a fuckin’ mess, darlin'.”

You smiled a little, despite the tension. “We’re all a mess, Logan. But that doesn’t mean you get to shut me out.”

There was a beat of silence between you, the night air heavy with unsaid things. And then, before you knew what was happening, Logan closed the distance between you in two strides, his hands gripping your arms as he pulled you closer, his eyes burning with that same intensity that had left you breathless in the bar.

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” he growled, his breath warm against your skin, his face inches from yours. “You don’t know what this is.”

“Then show me,” you whispered, your heart hammering in your chest. “Show me, Logan.”

For a moment, you thought he might pull away again, that he might let go and walk off into the night. But then, with a low, frustrated groan, he closed the gap between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and full of everything he’d been holding back.

You gasped against his mouth, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands clutching his jacket as you kissed him back, feeling the heat of him, the raw power that simmered just beneath his skin. His hands slid from your arms to your waist, pulling you even closer, like he couldn’t stand the space between you, like he needed you as much as you needed him.

The kiss deepened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, trying to be gentle even though you could tell he didn’t want to be. His claws didn’t come out this time, but you could feel the roughness in the way he touched you, like he was afraid he might break you.

But you weren’t afraid.

“Logan,” you whispered against his lips, your voice soft but sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That seemed to snap something in him. He kissed you harder, his hands gripping you tight as he backed you up against the brick wall of the alley, his body pressed against yours, trapping you there in the best way possible. It was intense, overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop. You’d never felt more alive, more wanted, than you did in that moment.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, trailing rough, heated kisses along your skin, his breath ragged, like he was barely holding himself together. And maybe he wasn’t. Maybe this was as close to falling apart as Logan ever got.

But you didn’t care. You wanted all of it—all of him.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled against your neck, his voice rough, desperate. “Tell me to walk away, ‘cause I don’t think I can.”

You shook your head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. “I’m not telling you to stop. I don’t want you to stop.”

Logan let out a low, almost pained sound, his hands gripping your hips as he kissed you again, slower this time, but just as intense. There was no hesitation now, no pulling back. Just him and you, wrapped up in each other like nothing else mattered.

The world outside, the fear, the danger—it all faded away. It was just Logan, his touch, his heat, the way he made you feel safe and alive all at once.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard, you could feel the shift between you. Something had changed—something deep and unspoken, but undeniable.

“You sure about this?” Logan asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t leave.

Instead, he kissed you again, slower this time, softer. And for the first time, he let himself believe it. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a mistake.

Boundaries of Obsession

Summary: Logan, a seasoned bodyguard with a troubled past, is reluctantly assigned to protect Y/n, a 23-year-old diplomat's daughter. The vast age gap between them creates immediate tension, with Y/N resistant to Logan's intrusive presence. However, as they spend more time together, Logan’s professional detachment gives way to possessiveness and jealousy. His obsession threatens to undermine their relationship, forcing both to confront the boundaries of their growing feelings for each other.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female-Human Reader (Y/N Sinclair) Warning: Angst, lil bit of fluff

Logan had been on the edge of a goddamn meltdown, and he’d been desperately hoping for a break from the never-ending grind of his job. He was sprawled out in his small, dimly lit apartment, surrounded by the detritus of his last assignment: crumpled papers, empty takeout containers, and an assortment of half-empty bottles that might have once contained something drinkable. His apartment looked like a tornado had decided to take a detour through his life.

He was nursing a mug of coffee that had long lost any semblance of warmth, staring at the peeling wallpaper as if it might provide some answers. He was just about to lose himself in the haze of his thoughts when the shrill ring of the office phone cut through the silence like a damn alarm bell. It was a sound that meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing he wanted.

With a groan that could only be described as pure frustration, Logan grabbed the receiver and answered with a voice that could best be described as a growl. “Logan.”

“Hey, Logan,” came the voice on the other end. It was Rick, his boss. The tone was serious—Rick had a knack for sounding like someone was about to get shot whenever he was on the line. “We’ve got a new assignment for you.”

Logan rolled his eyes, though Rick couldn’t see it through the phone. “Seriously? What now? Can’t a guy catch a break? I’m drowning in paperwork and old pizza boxes here. I need some damn time off.”

Rick wasn’t one for beating around the bush. “This isn’t a joke, Logan. We need you to protect Y/N Sinclair. She’s the daughter of a diplomat. She’s 23, and there’s been some pretty credible threats against her.”

Logan let out a snort, one that was more of a sarcastic chuckle than anything else. “Protect a diplomat’s kid? That sounds like a whole barrel of fun. What’s she done, pissed off some world leaders? Because that’s usually the kind of thing that gets you on the hit list.”

Rick’s voice took on a slightly softer tone, which was rare for him. “I get it. It sounds like a cushy gig, but it’s high-profile. We need someone who knows their shit. You’ve got the experience, and frankly, I don’t think anyone else is up for it. And hey, it’s just a few weeks. Think of it as a temporary change of pace.”

Logan sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was on them. “Fine. I’ll do it. But don’t expect me to be thrilled about it. If I end up babysitting someone with a silver spoon stuck in her mouth, I swear, I’m going to lose it.”

Rick chuckled, though it was the kind of chuckle that suggested he was already preparing for more of Logan’s bullshit. “You always have a way of making these things sound so glamorous. But thanks for taking it on. I’ll send over the details. Just remember, this is important.”

Logan slammed the receiver down, muttering curses under his breath. “Important. Sure. Probably just another way to get me tangled up in someone else’s mess.” He glanced around his apartment, wondering how on earth he was going to get through this. He picked up a stray piece of paper, squinting at it as if it might hold some kind of answer to his current predicament.

His mind was already racing through the logistics of the new assignment: meeting Y/N Sinclair, figuring out her schedule, and trying to figure out how to stay sane while being stuck in the same space as someone who probably didn’t know the first thing about real danger. He was about to face yet another chapter of dealing with people who had no idea what it was like to live in the real world, where every day was a battle and every decision was a gamble.

Logan took a deep breath, staring at the mess that was his life and muttering to himself. “Well, at least I’ll get a change of scenery. Maybe I’ll even get to add a few new scars to the collection.” He chuckled darkly, knowing full well that he was in for a ride he wasn’t exactly thrilled about.

And so, with that resigned acceptance, Logan prepared himself for whatever hell was about to unfold. He might have been grumbling and cursing every step of the way, but deep down, he knew he’d take the job.

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Logan’s arrival at the Sinclair residence was like stepping into a fucking fairy tale. He was greeted by the kind of grandeur that would make a king feel underdressed. The estate sprawled out before him in all its marble and chandelier glory. It was the kind of place where the floors sparkled under the glow of opulent fixtures, and every corner seemed to whisper tales of old money and impeccable taste. Logan took it all in with a mixture of awe and begrudging respect.

He pushed through the massive double doors, which opened with a creak that seemed to say, “Welcome to the land of the rich and ridiculously privileged.” The marble lobby was bathed in a soft, natural light that filtered through high arched windows, casting a warm glow over everything. Logan's boots made a dull thud against the marble as he walked in, a stark contrast to the silent elegance of the place. His own scuffed, worn-out shoes were a far cry from the polished perfection that surrounded him.

Logan glanced around, taking in the elegant furniture and tasteful decorations—each piece meticulously chosen to scream luxury. It was all a bit much, really. His small, dimly lit apartment felt like a lifetime away from this place. He was used to grimy street corners and dingy warehouses, not this plush extravagance. He felt a twinge of discomfort, as if he was an imposter at a very high-society masquerade.

Then he saw her. Y/N Sinclair. She was standing by the grand staircase, waiting for him with an air of cool composure that was both intriguing and slightly infuriating. The way she carried herself with a blend of youthful enthusiasm and restrained annoyance made it clear she wasn’t thrilled to see him. She was striking—no doubt about it. Her beauty was understated yet captivating, and her dark hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made her sharp, green eyes even more arresting. Those eyes were curious but had an edge that suggested she was ready to be unimpressed.

Logan approached her with a professional detachment that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else. His dark suit felt like a costume he wore to fit in with this high-society circus, and it contrasted sharply with Y/N’s more casual attire—a simple blouse and jeans. He knew the suit was his attempt to blend in, but it felt like it was doing the opposite. He couldn’t help but admire the way she looked, though he kept it buried under a layer of gruff professionalism.

Y/N turned to face him as he drew near, her expression a mix of guarded curiosity and subtle skepticism. She extended her hand, and Logan took it, shaking it firmly. “Mr. Logan, I presume?”

“Ms. Sinclair,” Logan replied, his voice low and gravelly. “I’ll be your bodyguard for the duration of this assignment. My job is to ensure your safety.”

Y/N withdrew her hand and crossed her arms, her posture defensive. “I’m not sure why I need a bodyguard. I’m just going about my daily life. Surely that’s manageable.”

Logan couldn’t help but let a hint of sarcasm slip through. “It’s not just about managing; it’s about making sure you don’t get yourself into a world of trouble. There’ve been credible threats against you, and it’s my job to keep you safe. I’ll be tagging along wherever you go, making sure nothing goes south.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a slight frown, and she glanced around the opulent lobby, clearly uncomfortable with the intrusion into her personal space. “I suppose I’ll have to get used to this, won’t I?”

Logan noticed the flicker of frustration in her eyes. He could see she was trying to reconcile the grandeur of her surroundings with the reality of having her freedom curtailed. “We’ll figure out a way to make this as smooth as possible. I know it’s not ideal, but it’s necessary given the circumstances.”

Y/N huffed softly, her frustration palpable. “I’ve always valued my independence. Having someone shadow me every step of the way feels like an invasion of privacy.”

Logan’s expression softened, though he kept his tone steady. “I get that. It’s a hell of an adjustment. My job is to be as unobtrusive as possible while making sure you stay safe. I’ll try not to step on your toes more than necessary.”

Y/N’s gaze softened a little, though her defensiveness was still there. “I appreciate that you’re trying to be considerate. But can you at least explain what you’ll be doing? How is this going to work?”

Logan nodded, thankful for the chance to lay out the plan. “Sure thing. My primary duties will include keeping you company during any public or private events, assessing potential risks, and coordinating with local security. I’ll also be on the lookout for any threats and making sure your day-to-day activities are as safe as possible. I’ll be around, but I’ll try to keep it low-key.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly still skeptical. “And what if I decide to go somewhere or do something without you?”

Logan considered her question, knowing it was a crucial point. “If you decide to go out on your own, I’ll need to check out your destination and who you’ll be with. It’s not about limiting your freedom, but about making sure you’re safe. We’ll work together to plan your activities in a way that keeps you secure while respecting your autonomy.”

Y/N sighed, a sound that was equal parts frustration and resignation. “I suppose that makes sense. I’m just not used to having someone constantly watching over me.”

Logan offered a reassuring smile, though he was aware of the fine line he had to walk. “I understand. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’m here to make this process as smooth as possible. If you have any concerns or preferences, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes met his, and for a moment, the skepticism seemed to wane. She gave a small, begrudging nod. “Alright. I guess we’ll have to make the best of this situation.”

Logan’s smile remained professional, but he felt a flicker of relief. “Thanks for being understanding. I’ll do my best to ensure this is as smooth and secure as possible for you.”

Y/N led him through the residence, her pace steady as she showed him the key areas he needed to know. As they walked through the grand halls, she pointed out various rooms and gave a brief overview of her daily schedule. Logan couldn’t help but notice the opulence of the surroundings—the rich tapestries on the walls, the polished wood of the furniture—all of it spoke of a life he was only beginning to understand.

During the tour, Y/N maintained a polite distance, though there was a formality in her demeanor that made it clear she was still adjusting to the situation. Logan observed her closely, noting the way she moved and spoke. She was a study in contrasts: graceful yet guarded, confident yet clearly struggling with the invasion of her privacy.

As they reached her personal quarters, Y/N stopped and turned to him with a faint smile. “This is where I’ll be spending most of my time. You’ll have access to this area, but please try to avoid intruding on my private space.”

Logan nodded, feeling the weight of her request. “Understood. I’ll be discreet and respectful of your privacy.”

Y/N’s smile widened slightly, though she was still clearly adjusting. “I appreciate that. Let’s start with a schedule for tomorrow. Do you have any preferences for how you’d like to handle things?”

Logan thought for a moment, weighing his response. “I’d suggest we start by reviewing your planned activities for the day. It’ll help me understand your routine and spot any potential risks. We can also discuss any specific concerns you might have.”

Y/N nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s do that.”

As they moved on to discuss the details of the upcoming days, Logan found himself increasingly intrigued by Y/N. Despite her initial defensiveness, there were moments when her sharp wit and intelligence shone through. She was passionate about her work and had a clear sense of purpose, which was both admirable and, at times, frustratingly idealistic.

In the evening, as their discussions wrapped up, Y/N offered Logan a hesitant smile. “I guess this isn’t going to be as terrible as I initially thought. Thanks for taking the time to explain everything.”

Logan returned the smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll address any concerns as they come up. It’s important that you feel comfortable and safe.”

Y/N’s smile grew warmer. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I suppose you’re not so bad after all.”

Logan chuckled softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As Y/N headed off to her room, Logan remained in the lobby, reflecting on the day’s events. He knew the road ahead would be filled with challenges, both professional and personal. Building rapport with Y/N was just the beginning, and he needed to be prepared for the complexities that would inevitably arise.

He took a deep breath, resolved to tackle the assignment with the same dedication and professionalism he had applied to every previous job. Gaining Y/N’s trust and ensuring her safety would require patience and adaptability. As he prepared for the days ahead, he reminded himself that the success of the assignment hinged not just on protecting Y/N from external threats, but also on navigating the delicate balance of their evolving relationship.

The next morning, Logan met Y/N at breakfast, ready to dive into the day’s activities. As he observed her, he felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension. The assignment had just begun, and he was acutely aware that the dynamics between them would shape their time together. Y/N greeted him with a more relaxed demeanor, and Logan took it as a positive sign.

He knew that the coming days would be crucial in building a rapport and establishing a sense of trust. With each interaction, Logan hoped to not only fulfill his duties but also make Y/N feel as comfortable and secure as possible. Logan’s initial days with the Sinclairs were a whirlwind of adjustments and observations.

Their interactions were a delicate dance of professionalism and personal boundaries. Y/N, though initially resistant, began to show signs of acceptance. The tension from their first meeting gradually eased, replaced by a tentative cooperation. Logan observed her routines and preferences, making adjustments to his approach as needed. He found that Y/N’s defensiveness was often a mask for her underlying vulnerability. She had been thrust into a world of scrutiny and expectation, and his presence was a constant reminder of her lack of control.

Logan’s role went beyond just being a physical presence; it was about understanding the subtleties of Y/N’s world and adapting to them. The Sinclair estate was a world apart from his usual environment, but he approached the challenge with the same focus and determination he applied to his work. He made it a point to blend into the background, allowing Y/N the space she needed while remaining vigilant. Their conversations gradually became less formal, and Y/N began to open up about her life and the pressures she faced. Logan learned about her aspirations, her struggles with her public image, and her desire for a more ordinary life. It was clear that beneath the veneer of wealth and privilege, Y/N was grappling with her own set of challenges.

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Building trust with Y/N Sinclair wasn’t a walk in the park. It was a constant grind, a mix of small wins and the occasional fuck-up. Logan knew that his success in this gig wasn’t just about keeping her safe; it was also about breaking down the walls between them and making her feel at ease. He was working on making their interactions more than just a transactional deal—he was in it to build some real rapport.

One evening, after a day that felt like it never ended—meetings, events, and more meetings—Y/N approached Logan with a thoughtful look on her face. The day’s chaos had left them both a bit drained, but there was something different in the way she spoke to him.

“You know, Mr. Logan,” she started, her tone softer than usual, “I never thought I’d say this, but I’m actually starting to appreciate having you around. It’s been weird, having someone breathing down my neck all the time, but I’m beginning to see that there’s some value in it.”

Logan gave her a genuine smile, feeling a bit of relief. “I’m glad to hear that. I know it’s not exactly the most comfortable situation, and I really appreciate you sticking with it. My goal is to make this as smooth as possible for you.”

Y/N’s face relaxed a bit, and she seemed to be weighing her next words carefully. “I get that. And I can see you’re trying to help. It’s just… sometimes it feels like there’s this invisible wall between us. Like, I’m always having to explain myself or justify my actions.”

Logan took a moment to let that sink in. “I get it. It’s a tough balance—trying to respect your privacy while also making sure you’re safe. If there’s anything specific you need or any way I can make this easier, just let me know.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and there was a flicker of vulnerability in them. “Actually, there is something. I’ve got some personal stuff going on, and it would be nice if you could give me a bit of space to handle it. I don’t want to push you away, but I also need some time to sort things out on my own.”

Logan’s face showed genuine empathy. “I appreciate you being honest with me. I’ll give you the space you need, but remember, I’m here if you need anything or if the situation changes.”

Y/N’s smile was the kind that made it clear she meant it. It wasn’t just a polite gesture; it was real. “Thanks, Mr. Logan. I’m starting to feel like we’re actually getting somewhere.”

Logan’s role as her bodyguard had shifted from just being a protector to becoming someone she could actually talk to—a confidant and a source of stability in her chaotic world. The initial awkwardness and tension had given way to a growing mutual respect. They were finding their groove, and it wasn’t just about being professional anymore. Y/N’s trust in Logan was becoming more evident. Their conversations were less formal, and she seemed more comfortable opening up about her life and her struggles. Logan had noticed that Y/N’s walls were coming down, bit by bit. She was starting to let him in, and that was a significant shift from their early interactions.

Logan was adapting well to the changes. He found himself more attuned to Y/N’s needs and concerns. The balance between professional duty and personal connection was delicate, but he was managing it. It wasn’t just about being her bodyguard anymore; it was about being someone she could rely on, someone who understood the complexities of her life. One evening, after a particularly intense day, they found themselves in a more relaxed setting. Y/N had just finished a call that left her visibly frustrated. Logan, sensing the opportunity, decided to push the boundaries a bit. He leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You know,” he said, his tone more playful than usual, “for someone who’s constantly surrounded by people, you seem to spend a lot of time looking like you need a drink.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Logan shrugged, a cheeky grin on his face. “Just saying, you’ve got that ‘I need a drink and a vacation’ look. And if you’re ever up for some company, I might know a place that serves a mean cocktail.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but trying to keep her composure. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Logan.”

Logan laughed, his tone light and easy. “Hey, it’s all part of the job. If I can make you smile or take your mind off things, then I’m doing my job right.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a warmth in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “I guess you’ve got a point. And maybe I do need a break from all this craziness.”

The shift in their interactions was palpable. Logan’s attempts at humor and casual conversation were breaking down the last of the barriers between them. Y/N seemed more relaxed, and there was a newfound ease in their interactions. Logan’s role was no longer confined to the professional realm; he was becoming a friend, someone who understood the weight of her world.

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What had started as a distant and necessary alliance had morphed into something more layered and intense. Neither of them had anticipated the emotional currents that would come to define their relationship. Y/N’s initial irritation with Logan’s constant presence had eased into a grudging acceptance. She had started to see the value in his unyielding vigilance, even if it was a constant reminder of the danger she faced. Their shared moments—whether it was casual chats or the occasional laugh—began to blur the lines between professional duty and personal connection.

Logan, for his part, found himself increasingly drawn into Y/N’s world. The boundaries he had originally maintained started to dissolve. His protective instincts, sharp and well-honed, began to stray into a more personal territory. Though he masked his growing attachment with professionalism, Y/N could sense the change.

The first real crack in their evolving relationship came with Tom, an artist Y/N had met at a charity event. Tom was charismatic and effortlessly charming, a stark contrast to Logan’s usually stoic demeanor. He and Y/N had hit it off, and soon, they were collaborating on a project that was deeply personal to her. One evening, after a lively gathering that left them both a bit drained, Y/N and Logan found themselves alone in her apartment. The living room was softly lit by a lamp, the remnants of their evening—half-empty wine glasses and the faint echo of music—lingering in the air.

“Tom’s been amazing,” Y/N said, her eyes practically glowing with excitement. “We’ve been making incredible progress on the project. He’s so creative—his ideas are just... phenomenal. We’ve been working late into the night, and it’s been really inspiring.”

Logan’s usual composure started to crack. He stood rigid, his voice coming out sharper than intended. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Tom lately,” he said, barely hiding his frustration. “I’ve noticed how close you’ve become.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, replaced by confusion. “Tom’s just a friend. We’re working on something together. What’s the problem?”

Logan’s irritation bubbled up. “It’s not just about the project. I’ve seen how you interact with him, and I don’t fucking like it. I don’t trust him. I’m here to keep you safe, and I don’t like the idea of you being so close to someone I don’t know well.”

Y/N’s face flared with a mix of hurt and anger. “You’re not my goddamn guardian, Logan. I don’t need you deciding who I can or can’t be friends with. Tom’s been nothing but supportive. Just because you don’t know him doesn’t mean he’s a threat.”

Logan’s frustration turned into outright anger. “It’s not about controlling you. It’s about your fucking safety. I’ve seen too many situations where people who seem harmless end up being anything but. My job is to protect you, and that means being cautious about who you spend time with.”

Y/N stood up abruptly, her movements sharp. “You’re crossing a line here, Logan. I appreciate your protection, but this is my life. I’m not some fragile doll that needs to be guarded every second. I deserve the freedom to make my own choices and trust the people I want to trust.”

Logan’s anger flared, his voice rising. “It’s not about mistrusting you. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I can’t just ignore potential risks, especially when I’m responsible for your well-being.”

Y/N’s voice wavered between anger and hurt. “You don’t get to decide who I can and can’t be close to. I understand you’re doing your job, but you need to respect my autonomy. I’m not asking you to like Tom, but I am asking you to trust me.”

Logan’s face was a mask of internal conflict. “Trust is hard for me, Y/N. I’ve been in situations where trust was fucking shattered, and it makes you wary. But I’m trying to find a balance here. I don’t want to jeopardize our working relationship or make you feel controlled.”

Y/N’s anger slowly melted into sadness. “I need you to understand that I’m not asking for special treatment or to be shielded from the world. I just want to live my life without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance. I need you to trust me, just as much as I’m trying to trust you.”

Logan’s shoulders sagged, the weight of the argument pressing down on him. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just that my instincts are hard to turn off. I’m used to being on high alert, especially when it comes to someone I care about.”

Y/N’s expression softened as she absorbed his words. “I get that you care, and I appreciate your dedication. But there has to be a middle ground where I can have my space and make my own decisions without feeling suffocated.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, charged with the unspoken emotions of both. Logan wrestled with his internal conflict, realizing his protective instincts were beginning to cloud his judgment. Y/N struggled with asserting her independence while acknowledging Logan’s genuine concern.

After a long pause, Logan finally spoke, his voice softer and more measured. “I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us. Maybe we can find a way to balance your safety with your need for autonomy. I just need you to understand where I’m coming from.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and frustration. “I appreciate that. Let’s work on finding that balance together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he took a deep breath. “Agreed. We’ll figure it out. I’ll try to be more mindful of your need for space while still doing my job.”

Y/N offered a tentative smile, signaling her willingness to move forward. “Thank you. I’m sure we can make this work.”

The next few days were tense but marked by small, deliberate efforts from both sides to bridge the gap that had opened up between them. Logan made a conscious effort to respect Y/N’s autonomy, giving her space while maintaining his vigilant presence. Y/N, in turn, tried to understand the depth of Logan’s protective instincts, recognizing that his intentions, though sometimes misguided, were rooted in genuine concern. One evening, as they found themselves in a more relaxed setting—Logan had just returned from a long day and Y/N was unwinding with a book—Logan decided to try to lighten the mood. He plopped down on the couch next to her, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You know,” he said, his tone playful, “if you’re ever tired of working late with Tom, I know a great spot for drinks. Just saying.”

Y/N looked up from her book, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

Logan chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Hey, I’m just trying to make sure you’re not drowning in work. Plus, it’s not every day I get to see you unwind. You deserve a break.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she shook her head. “You’re incorrigible. But I appreciate the offer. Maybe I’ll take you up on it.”

Logan’s grin widened, feeling a rare sense of triumph. “That’s what I like to hear. And who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get to meet this Tom guy. Make sure he knows who’s really looking out for you.”

Y/N laughed, a genuine sound that made Logan’s heart skip a beat. But just as he was about to make another playful comment, her phone buzzed. She glanced at it and her smile faltered slightly.

“It’s Tom,” she said, showing him the screen. “He’s just checking in about our project.”

Logan’s mood shifted abruptly. He forced himself to mask the pang of jealousy, but his irritation was palpable. “Right. Well, tell Tom I said hi. Or better yet, let’s talk about something else. How’s your day been otherwise?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the change in Logan’s demeanor. “My day’s been fine. Why?”

Logan’s voice came out sharper than he intended. “Just curious. You seem pretty wrapped up in this project with Tom.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously jealous of Tom? He’s just a friend, Logan. It’s not like we’re going to get married or something.”

Logan’s frustration boiled over. “It’s not about jealousy. It’s about the fact that you’re spending all this time with him and I’m left feeling like a third wheel. It’s my job to keep you safe, and seeing you get so close to someone I don’t know well just pisses me off.”

Y/N stood up, her patience wearing thin. “You’re being ridiculous. Tom’s not a threat. You’re overreacting.”

Logan’s voice rose, unable to keep his anger in check. “It’s not about overreacting. It’s about making sure you’re fucking safe. I’m here to do a job, and I can’t just ignore potential risks, even if it means coming off as a jealous asshole.”

Y/N’s face turned red with frustration. “You need to get over yourself, Logan. I’m not a child. I deserve to make my own decisions without feeling like I’m being controlled.”

Logan’s anger started to crack as he saw the hurt in Y/N’s eyes. His voice softened, a mixture of regret and vulnerability. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off like that. It’s just... sometimes it’s hard to switch off the part of me that’s always on high alert.”

Y/N’s anger ebbed away, replaced by a more measured sadness. “I get that you care, but you need to trust me. I’m asking for a bit of space and the freedom to make my own choices. I’m not asking for special treatment.”

Logan’s expression softened, a mix of guilt and longing in his eyes. “I do trust you, Y/N. It’s just... it’s hard for me to let go sometimes. I’ve been through a lot, and it makes it tough to just let things be. But I’m trying. I really am.”

Y/N’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “I appreciate that. I know you’re trying, but we need to find a balance where we both feel comfortable. I need to feel like I have control over my own life.”

Logan nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You’re right. We need to find that balance. I don’t want to be the cause of tension between us.”

Y/N’s expression was a mix of relief and resolve. “Good. Let’s work on it together. I don’t want us to be at odds, but I also need to feel respected and trusted.”

Logan took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. “Agreed. I’ll work on being more mindful of your space while still keeping you safe. And, for what it’s worth, I want to be honest with you about something.”

Y/N looked at him, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

Logan hesitated for a moment, then spoke with a raw honesty. “These past few months, spending time with you—it’s been... I don’t know, something I didn’t expect. I’ve been so used to being alone, and having you around, it’s... changed things for me. I’ve been trying to fight it, but I have feelings for you, Y/N. You’ve become a part of my life in a way I didn’t think was possible.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering across her face. “Logan, I... I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

Logan looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability. “I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing. I didn’t mean to come off as a controlling asshole. It’s just that you’ve become important to me. I want to protect you, not just because it’s my job, but because... because I care about you.”

Y/N took a deep breath, processing his words. “I appreciate your honesty, Logan. It means a lot. And I want you to know that I care about you too. I just need to find a way where we can both feel comfortable and respected.”

Logan’s face softened, a tentative smile forming. “Yeah, I think we can figure it out. We just need to communicate and understand each other better.” Y/N nodded, a small, genuine smile on her lips. “Agreed. Let’s work on it. Together.

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The weeks wore on, and Logan's feelings for Y/N twisted into a dark, consuming obsession. What had started as a protective instinct soon spiraled into a desperate need to control every aspect of her life. His once-guarded professionalism eroded, replaced by an all-consuming jealousy that tainted every interaction Y/N had with others.

It was clear to everyone around them—if they cared to notice—that Logan’s possessiveness was turning into a problem. He scrutinized Y/N’s every move with a vigilance that bordered on the obsessive. What had initially seemed like simple concern now looked more like an all-out invasion of her personal space. Each friendly interaction Y/N had with other men seemed to send Logan into a fit of barely-contained rage.

The turning point came at a gallery opening where Y/N was showcasing her latest collection. The event was buzzing with art enthusiasts and critics, all eager to discuss Y/N’s work. Logan had been assigned to discreetly monitor the event, but his attempts at maintaining his usual detachment quickly fell apart. He stationed himself on the edge of the crowd, ostensibly to observe, but his gaze was fixated on Y/N.

Y/N, radiant in her element, moved gracefully through the crowd. Her laughter rang out clearly and genuinely as she engaged with admirers. Every compliment, every interaction with other men seemed to deepen Logan’s unease. His jealousy flared at every friendly pat on the back, every animated conversation. The sight of her mingling with others was like a knife to his gut, sparking a storm of irrationality within him.

By the time the gallery event wound down, Logan was a bundle of barely contained frustration. His usually controlled eyes burned with a simmering intensity that he struggled to mask. As Y/N returned to her apartment, Logan’s tension was palpable, his earlier attempt to maintain a façade of professionalism slipping away the moment they were alone.

Y/N, sensing the shift in Logan’s demeanor, eyed him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You seem off tonight. Everything okay?”

Logan’s voice was taut with irritation. “Oh, you know, just the usual. You were the fucking center of attention tonight. Surrounded by a bunch of guys. It pissed me off.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock and frustration. “Seriously? You’re complaining about me interacting with people at my own event? It’s part of my job, Logan. You’re being unreasonable.”

Logan’s face twisted with conflicted rage. “It’s not just about being unreasonable. Seeing you with those other men... it fucking kills me. I can’t stand it. I know it’s irrational, but I just... I can’t fucking help it.”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. She crossed her arms and stared him down. “This isn’t about your feelings of insecurity. It’s about control. You can’t dictate every aspect of my professional life. It’s unhealthy.”

Logan’s anger surged, his voice rising. “It’s not about controlling you. I’m just trying to protect you. Every time I see you laughing and talking with other guys, it feels like I’m losing my grip on something important. I don’t even know why it’s hitting me so hard now.”

Y/N’s eyes softened with empathy but her voice remained firm. “You need to separate your personal issues from your professional duties. This obsession is affecting our working relationship and your ability to do your job.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. “I get it. I know I’m crossing lines. I’m supposed to be professional, but these feelings... they’re like a fucking storm I can’t control. I haven’t felt anything like this in years. I’ve always kept my feelings in check, but with you... it’s different. It’s like I’m losing you every time you’re with someone else.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered with a note of compassion. “Logan, you’re not losing me. But your jealousy and possessiveness are getting out of hand. It’s not fair to me or to you. We need to confront this head-on. If we don’t, it’s only going to get worse.”

Logan’s face was a mix of anger, regret, and confusion. “I don’t know how to handle this. I’ve never been this fucked up before. It’s like I’m trapped between wanting to keep you safe and being overwhelmed by my own feelings. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice softening but her tone serious. “Logan, we both need to be honest here. Your feelings are clouding your judgment. And it’s affecting our relationship. We need to talk about boundaries and expectations, or this is just going to keep spiraling.”

Logan’s gaze met hers with a mix of vulnerability and resolve. “You’re right. We need to clear the air. I don’t want to be a fucking burden or let my emotions ruin everything we’ve worked for.”

Y/N’s eyes held a mixture of relief and determination. “Let’s tackle this head-on. We need to be clear about our boundaries and communicate openly. It’s important for both of us.”

Logan’s voice wavered slightly as he took a deep breath. “There’s something I’ve never told you before. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Not in a long time. I’ve always kept my emotions in check, especially with my... unique abilities. But with you, it’s different. I fucking care about you, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and emotion flickering in her eyes. “I didn’t realize... I mean, I’ve felt something too. I’ve been trying to figure it out. I guess... I care about you too, Logan. But we need to get through this mess if we’re going to have anything.”

Logan looked at her with a mixture of hope and apprehension. “I know. I just want to make things right. I want us to be able to work together and be... whatever this is between us. But we need to sort this out first.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady and warm. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. Let’s be honest and clear about what we need from each other.”

The conversation left them both emotionally drained, the weight of their confession hanging heavily between them. But Logan’s struggles with jealousy and obsession didn’t end with that discussion. If anything, his behavior grew increasingly erratic.

One evening, Y/N was preparing for a dinner with a potential new client. Logan was supposed to be on duty, maintaining his usual professional distance, but his simmering jealousy soon erupted. Y/N, unaware of the storm brewing within him, was in the midst of selecting an outfit for the occasion.

Logan’s voice cut through the quiet of the apartment, sharp and tinged with frustration. “So, who’s this fucking client you’re meeting tonight?”

Y/N glanced at him, taken aback by his abrupt tone. “Just a potential client, Logan. Why does it matter?”

Logan’s jaw tightened as he paced the room. “It matters because you’re going out again. And every time you go out, I fucking worry. You don’t see the problem here?”

Y/N’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion and irritation. “You’re seriously doing this again? This is a professional meeting. It’s part of my job. You can’t just flip out every time I leave the house.”

Logan’s frustration was barely contained. “It’s not just about you leaving. It’s about who you’re with, where you’re going. Every fucking time I see you with someone else, I lose my mind. I can’t stand it.”

Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. “Logan, this isn’t healthy. You’re crossing boundaries. I need you to understand that I’m not some possession you can control.”

Logan’s face flushed with anger, his voice rising. “Control? Fuck, Y/N, this isn’t about control. I care about you—more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And it’s tearing me apart to see you with other people. I fucking love you, but this shit is driving me insane!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and exasperation. “You can’t just use ‘love’ as an excuse for this behavior. Your obsession is suffocating me. It’s not fair to me or to you. You need to get a fucking grip on yourself.”

Logan’s anger morphed into desperation. “I don’t know how to stop it. I can’t control these feelings. Every time you’re out with someone else, it feels like I’m losing you. I fucking hate it. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N’s expression softened slightly, though her frustration remained. “I get that you’re struggling, but your feelings are hurting both of us. You need to deal with your jealousy instead of letting it control you. This isn’t a healthy way to handle things.”

Logan’s voice broke with frustration and regret. “I know. I know it’s not right. I’m trying to fucking deal with it, but it’s hard. I love you so much, Y/N. More than I ever thought possible. But I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. It’s like I’m losing a part of myself.”

Y/N’s frustration was tempered by a note of compassion. “You need to find a way to manage these feelings, Logan. We can’t keep going like this. It’s eating away at us both. I need you to get help or find a way to handle this without letting it ruin everything.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll try—fuck, I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. But I need your help. I need us to work through this together.”

Y/N’s gaze held a mixture of relief and determination. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and establish boundaries. If we don’t, this will just keep spiraling.” Logan nodded, his expression a mix of hope and apprehension. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I just want us to be okay.”

----------------------------------

Logan’s behavior had hit a breaking point. It wasn’t just about his discomfort anymore; it was clear that his obsessive and controlling tendencies were wreaking havoc on both his professional effectiveness and his relationship with Y/N. The last straw came during an intense argument, which forced Logan to face the harsh reality of his situation. Y/N, frustrated and exhausted by his increasingly intrusive behavior, had finally pushed him to seek professional help.

Logan was hesitant. The thought of spilling his deepest insecurities to a stranger was daunting. But he knew something had to change. His first visit to Dr. Lee, the therapist Y/N had recommended, was marked by a palpable sense of dread. The office was a stark contrast to the chaos in Logan’s mind: soft lighting, calming colors, and comfortable seating created an environment that felt foreign to him.

Dr. Lee, a middle-aged woman with a welcoming smile, greeted Logan with a warm tone. “Hi, Logan. It’s good to meet you. Y/N told me a bit about why you’re here. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

Logan sat down in the plush armchair, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh, I’m here because I’m really fucking up. I’m working as a bodyguard for this woman, Y/N. And lately, I’ve been way too overprotective. It’s messing up my work and screwing up my relationship with her.”

Dr. Lee nodded, her expression open and encouraging. “It sounds like you’re dealing with some complex emotions. What specifically has been troubling you about your interactions with Y/N?”

Logan’s frustration was evident in his voice. “It’s like I’m obsessing over her safety to the point where it’s consuming me. I can’t stand the idea of her being around other people, especially men. It drives me fucking crazy.”

Dr. Lee leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet probing. “It sounds like your feelings of jealousy and control are pretty intense. Have you noticed any specific triggers that make these feelings worse?”

Logan thought for a moment, his hands fidgeting. “Yeah, it’s mainly when I see her interacting with other guys, like at social events or when she’s working with them. I get this surge of anger and possessiveness, and I can’t manage it.”

Dr. Lee responded thoughtfully. “Jealousy and possessiveness often come from underlying insecurities or fears. Can you think of any past experiences that might be influencing how you feel now?”

Logan’s gaze grew distant as he reflected. “I’ve had some shitty relationships in the past. I guess I’ve always been scared of losing something valuable. Y/N means a lot to me, and I think my fear of losing her is driving these intense feelings.”

Dr. Lee nodded in understanding. “Past experiences can definitely shape our current behaviors. One approach we can take is to work on identifying and addressing these underlying insecurities. We’ll also explore strategies to help you manage your emotions and develop healthier relationship patterns.”

As the sessions continued, Dr. Lee used a mix of cognitive-behavioral therapy and mindfulness techniques. Each session began with a review of Logan’s recent experiences and emotions. Dr. Lee would then guide him through exercises designed to challenge and reframe his thought patterns.

During one session, Dr. Lee introduced a mindfulness exercise. “Logan, let’s try a mindfulness exercise to help you become more aware of your emotional triggers. I want you to close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Notice any sensations or thoughts that come up without judging them.”

Logan followed her instructions, his breathing slow and steady. Dr. Lee continued, “When a thought or feeling arises, acknowledge it and let it pass. This exercise helps you observe your emotions without letting them overwhelm you.”

After the exercise, Logan spoke with a sense of calm. “I can see how this might help me manage my reactions. It’s like I’m more aware of how my emotions are affecting me.”

Dr. Lee responded, “Mindfulness can be a powerful tool for recognizing and regulating emotions. Alongside this practice, we’ll work on developing strategies to address the insecurities that fuel your possessiveness.”

Y/N, meanwhile, was struggling to maintain her sense of autonomy. Logan’s intrusive behavior was causing her frustration, and she was working on setting clear boundaries. One evening, after a particularly tough day, she invited Logan to a café they both frequented. She hoped the neutral setting would facilitate a productive conversation.

As they sat down, Y/N looked at Logan, her expression a mix of determination and exhaustion. “Logan, we need to talk. I’m really struggling with your behavior. It’s affecting my work and my personal space.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. I’m fucking up. I’ve been seeing Dr. Lee, trying to deal with this shit. But I know it’s not enough. I need to hear it from you. What do you need from me?”

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice steady but firm. “I need you to respect my boundaries. You can’t control who I interact with or how I handle my work. You need to manage your emotions and stop letting them dictate your behavior.”

Logan’s voice was filled with regret. “I get it. I’m trying to deal with my feelings, but it’s fucking hard. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. I’m really sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though her frustration remained. “I appreciate that you’re trying, but it’s a two-way street. I need you to take concrete steps to address your behavior. It’s not just about saying sorry—it’s about making real changes.”

Logan nodded, his face a mix of hope and determination. “I’m committed to making changes. I want us to be okay. I’ll keep working with Dr. Lee and do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Y/N’s eyes held a note of resolve. “That’s a start. But we need to set clear boundaries and communicate openly. If we don’t, this situation will just keep spiraling.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped as he took a deep breath. “I understand. I’ll work on it. I just want to get things back on track. I care about you, and I don’t want my shit to ruin everything.” Y/N nodded, her gaze steady. “We can work through this. But it’s going to take effort from both of us. We need to be clear about what we need and stick to it.”

----------------------------------

As weeks went by, Logan’s commitment to managing his possessiveness began to show real results. The therapy sessions with Dr. Lee were making a noticeable difference. Logan was learning to handle his intense emotions better and to communicate more effectively with Y/N. The transformation wasn’t overnight, but it was significant enough for Y/N to notice the positive changes.

One evening, after a particularly successful week where Logan had navigated social events and professional responsibilities with newfound composure, they decided to celebrate with a quiet dinner at their favorite spot. The restaurant was cozy, with soft lighting and mellow music that set a relaxing mood.

Logan and Y/N settled into their booth, the ambience a stark contrast to the tension that once marked their interactions. Logan, usually so guarded, was now more relaxed, though there was still a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. As they enjoyed their meal, Logan took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice carrying a mix of sincerity and vulnerability, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us. I know I’ve been a total mess sometimes, but I’ve never been more sure about anything than how I feel about you. I’ve been working hard to get things right, and I want you to know that you mean the world to me.”

Y/N looked up from her plate, a playful glint in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly does that mean, Mr. Brooding Bodyguard?”

Logan’s cheeks turned a shade of pink, but he grinned. “It means that despite all the chaos, I’m ready to make it official. I want you to be my girlfriend. I promise I’ll try to be less of a mess and more of the guy who makes you laugh.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, light and genuine. “Well, I was starting to think you’d make me wait forever. I’ve actually been hoping you’d say something like this.”

Logan’s face lit up with relief and joy. “So, you’re saying yes?”

Y/N leaned in, her eyes sparkling with affection. “Yes, Logan. I’m saying yes. But just so you know, I’m holding you to that promise about being less of a mess.”

Logan’s grin widened. “Deal. I’ll work on being the guy who makes you laugh and maybe the guy who gets to kiss you goodnight.”

Their conversation continued, filled with playful banter and flirtatious exchanges. Logan’s progress was evident not just in his words but in his actions. He had become more attuned to Y/N’s needs, more respectful of her boundaries, and more capable of managing his emotions. The following week was a whirlwind of events, each one showcasing Logan’s growth. At a networking event, he managed to maintain his composure even when Y/N had to work closely with a male colleague. Instead of the old pangs of jealousy, Logan was calm and supportive, offering encouragement rather than control.

Logan’s friends, who had witnessed his previous struggles, noticed the change. One evening, while hanging out with them, he was animated and relaxed, something they hadn’t seen in a long time. His friends joked about how they’d never seen him so chill before, and Logan laughed along, his newfound ease evident.

“Man, who are you and what have you done with the old Logan?” one of his friends teased.

Logan chuckled, a genuine smile on his face. “The old Logan’s still around, but he’s been getting some therapy and figuring his shit out. Things are looking up.”

Meanwhile, Y/N had started to see the positive impact of Logan’s efforts on her own sense of well-being. They spent more quality time together, enjoying each other’s company without the constant tension. Y/N felt more secure and appreciated, which only strengthened their bond.

One evening, after another successful week of navigating their evolving relationship, Y/N and Logan found themselves at their favorite café. Logan’s demeanor was relaxed and happy, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how far they had come.

“Logan, I’ve got to admit, I’m really proud of you,” Y/N said, her voice filled with warmth. “You’ve come a long way, and it’s making a huge difference.”

Logan grinned, reaching across the table to hold her hand. “Thanks, babe. I couldn’t have done it without you. Your support means everything.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes reflecting a mixture of affection and admiration. “Well, I’m glad to be here for you. And I’m excited about where we’re headed.” Logan’s gaze softened, his expression serious but filled with hope. “I am too. I want us to keep moving forward together. I’ve been thinking a lot about us and where we’re headed. I know I’m not perfect, but I want to be with you. I want us to build something real.”

I know this gets said here every day but stop caring about celebrities

The way the vape matches his suit 😭💛

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+)

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

he’s so me😭