ID EAT IT UP - Tumblr Posts

THIS IS SO GOOD WTFFFF 😭😭😭 IF YOU DONT MIND I THINK U SHOULD MAKE A PART TWOOO

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more howlett. masterlist.

paring! cagefighter!logan howlett x mutant!gn!reader w/c! 3.8k summary! instead of rogue finding logan at the cage fighting ring, you do. and the car never crashes because i say so. warnings! fighting, one gun mention, heavily based on how rogue first meets logan in the xmen (2000) film, reader is in their early 20s, one use of y/n, ambiguous ending kinda, the flirting is hella subtle an! this was fun to make. hope u guys like :))

“Is this it?” You questioned the taxi driver, the bright street lights that illuminated the parking lot blinding you briefly. The man hummed back in acknowledgment, impatiently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as you grabbed your backpack and slid out of the cab. He drove off the second you closed the door, his tires screeching against the pavement and gaining the attention of the few bikers outside. You kept your eyes glued to the ground as you made your way into the old barnhouse. You could hear muffled grunts and cheers through the metal walls, the sounds only echoing louder as you stepped inside.

The interior was covered with animal furs, random abandoned architecture, and a metal fighting ring in the center. There were bikers, mercenaries, hunters, and hillbillies filling every corner of the room as you make your way to the center, your eyes glued onto the hunched man in the corner.

His barren back shined against the cheap fluorescent lights as smoke rose from where he was standing, crashing and wrapping around the sides of his head as it tried to find its way to the sky. A bell rang loudly as a skinny man with a red plaid shirt gets dragged out of the ring, his head hung in defeat. You couldn't help but swallow hard at the sight, your eyes drifting back to the mysterious man leaning against the corner of the fighting ring.

“Gentleman,” the round, bearded man called through the microphone. “Personally, I never seen anything like that. Have you?” He gestured the microphone to the crowd with a lopsided grin, a roar of agreeance and beer-fueled rage from the audience nearly popping your eardrums. “That's what I like to hear!” He yelled into the mic, the last few words becoming a growl as his excitement seethed through him.

“Now,” He held out his hand to signal the crowd to quiet down, and they did. “Are you just gonna let this man walk away with your money?” He points his finger at the man puffing away, his hand shaking slightly as he tries to rile the audience up. They roar in response, many men throwing their cans up into the air and pushing through the crowd to kiss the metal fence wrapped around the ring.

“I’ll fight him!” A man yelled, throwing his handful of jackets off and racing towards the ring. The announcer chuckled in to the mic, picking up the man's fist and letting the audience roar in response. The bell rang three times and the announcer shuffled off the stage with extreme haste as the man eagerly ran to kick the shirtless brunette in the base of the spine. He growled in response, his body crashing into the metal fence before the man threw punch after punch into his jaw.

The drunken man grinned at how the record-breaker knelt over himself, holding his stomach with his free hand as the other held him up. The man kicked his ribs as hard as he could, his grin widening as the brunette finally attempted to stand. You watched as the shirtless man grunted and slowly picked himself up, his eyes full of fury. He balled his hands into fists and stared the drunken man down. He decides to throw another punch, his body tumbling backward after the brunette's fist meets his. He looks down at the drunk with a scowl, his fist connecting to the man's face before he could even stand up. His back hit the metal fence of the ring, his body wandering forward before a head-butt knocked him down on his back.

The bell rang three times again, naming the brunette the victor once again. You watched in awe as he gave him a final kick, slowly making his way back into the corner so he could drink another shot of scotch and take another hit from his cigar.

“Tonight's winner, and still king of the cage,” The announcer yelled through the mic, slowly making his way inside the ring once more. “Wolverine!” He exclaimed, the crowd roaring in applause.

Watching the 'Wolverine' down a man with such ease and haste made your heart beat quicken if you were honest with yourself. There was no way in hell that he was that strong without something else going on, even if it's a mutation or not. A part of you was curious as to what made him so sturdy, and another part of you yearning to have that sturdiness somewhat guide you to something better than hopping bench-to-bench.

Ever since that mutant registry bill got handed to the senate, you’ve been anxiously bouncing from city to city to find someone who will hopefully give you a ride and take you to the next one. While also trying to stay on the move, you’ve been trying to keep your eyes peeled for anyone who seemed mutated like you. After all, if there were others like you, there had to be a safe haven for them somewhere. There had to be.

You swallowed your nerves and pushed through the crowd to make it to the ‘Wolverine’s’ side of the ring, your eyes briefly meeting his as you made your way closer and closer. As you eventually walked directly in front of him, his eyes bore into you as you tried to come up with something to say. He was standing about two feet above you, the fighting ring elevated onto a stage, making the height difference between you two even more drastic.

“Whaddya want, kid?” He growled, biting down on his cigar as his eyes subtly examined you. You swallowed once more, your nerves making your heart pound out your chest, and finally uttered something to make this exchange worthwhile.

“Can I, uh, buy you a drink? To celebrate your victory?” You asked, your cheeks flushing slightly as your piss-poor attempt to have a proper conversation with him seeming more like you wanting to suck his face.

His eyes met yours as you uttered the question, a perked brow and soft scowl repaying you. He stayed silent momentarily, taking a puff of his cigar before responding. “Sure. Order me a beer.” He replied simply, turning away from you as he slowly made his way outside of the ring. You bit back a grin as you rushed your way around the stage, your eyes scanning for the bar.

You finally found it and slipped into the nearest available stool. You could feel the bartender's eyes scan you as he made his way to your corner of the bar. You took in a deep breath as you prepared yourself for the man's standard questioning of newbies. Instead, he walked up in front of you with a wide grin and asked you what you would like. You told him you’d just like water and watched as he nodded and left to fulfill your request, your focus quickly diverting to search for the ‘Wolverine’ you were itching to talk to.

You waited thirty minutes, then an hour, and then two. You had sat there long enough for a handful of drunks to begin to snore on the booths and for the owners to begin counting their earnings for the night. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, anyways. A part of you was waiting for the Wolverine so he could give you a possible ride, yes, but the way he could down a man to his knees with just a few punches intrigued you. Maybe he was the lead you were searching for.

Finally, after what seemed like years, the gruff man took a seat beside you. He tapped the bar with his pointer finger and clicked his tongue, seemingly impatiently waiting for you to speak first as if he hadn’t left you hanging there for hours.

“Sorry, kid,” He began, the apology sounding bizarre coming off of his tongue. He coughed into his fist before continuing, refusing to look you in the eye. “I thought you were jokin’ me.” You stared down at the bar counter as you tried to come up with something to say that didn't sound too eager, too desperate, or too unforgiving.

“Do most girls tease you with a drink?” You questioned, leaning against the bar as you slowly raised your gaze to meet his. Maybe a flirt or two will get him chattier, you thought. He smiled softly and shook his head, still staring down at the counter. “Most girls don’t offer me one,” He corrected, glancing at you through the corner of his eye for just a moment.

You softly chuckled and smiled weakly, trying to avoid looking at him as much as he was doing you. “I oddly don't believe that.” You half-joked, struggling to keep your eyes off of him as the leather jacket against his faded jeans and plaid button-up made him look almost half as good as he did in the ring. You pushed down your risqué thoughts and tried to direct the conversation to something else to avoid flustering yourself.

“I actually didn’t offer you a drink just to flirt,” You begin, turning slightly on the stool so your body is facing him. You began to nervously pick at invisible dirt on the bar counter, slowly and carefully building the question in your mind. “I wanted to ask if…” Your eyes drifted from him to the drunken man he fought earlier, an angry scowl poisoning his features as he stood behind Wolverine with balled fists.

He impatiently tapped his shoulder, his brows furrowing deeper into his forehead as he spoke. “You owe me some money,” He grumbled, staring daggers into the brunette as the man peeked over his shoulder. His friend gently grabbed his arm, attempting to pull him away, but he ripped his arm free. “No man can take a beating like that with no marks to show for it.” Wolverine faced forward, taking another puff off of his cigar as he blatantly ignored the man.

The man’s scowl deepened, a frown bleeding over his features as he leaned into Wolverine’s ear. “I know what you are, do they?” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours for a moment. You swallowed hard at his words, helplessly watching as Wolverine gripped his cigar tighter, obviously fighting to give in to some kind of urge.

“You lost your money,” the brunette barked, only glancing at the man over his shoulder. “Keep this up, and you're losing something else.” He growled, tapping the ash off of his cigar as the drunken man’s friend attempted to pull him away again. You watched as the man pulled out a pocket knife from his jacket sleeve, your mouth opening to warn the brunette before you could fully process the moment.

“Watch out!” You screamed, the brunette turning in a second and pinning the drunken man to the wall. He had his fist hovering in front of his face, two long metal claws pressing into the sides of the man’s neck. The breath was stolen out of your lungs as you watched the third one slowly slide out his knuckles, hovering just centimeters above his jugular.

The bartender slowly took the shotgun from underneath the bar and aimed it at the base of Wolverine’s skull, the tip shaking slightly as the man spoke. “Get out my bar, freak,” He spat, his fingers only gripping the firearm tighter as he waited for the mutant to respond.

You couldn't help but gasp as he quickly turned and sliced the shotgun’s barrel in half, the gunpowder spilling onto the wooden flooring below. His eyes bounced between the drunken man, you, and the bartender before he dropped his hands to his sides, the claws slowly retracting back into his knuckles. You couldn't help but feel a bit giddy, the reward of trusting your gut being the strongest cage fighter around here that, coincidentally, had legitimate metal claws.

He grunted at the men before stomping off, not even glancing at you as he walked past. You awkwardly looked around the room, considering the options in your head, before blindly following him outside of the farmhouse. You watched as he hopped into his truck camper’s driver's seat, the car shaking slightly as he sat down. You quickly rushed out of the building and walked to his car, your hand hovering over the passenger side window as you considered if you should truly ask for this man’s protection.

He glanced at you for a moment, seemingly ignoring you, before his eyes flew up to meet yours once again. You watched as he subtly rolled his eyes before leaning over and opening the passenger side door, holding it open and simultaneously blocking you from getting in as he waited for you to explain yourself.

“Well, uh,” You began, your fingers weakly fiddling with the shoulder strap of your backpack as you tried to formulate a sentence. “That drunk cut me off, I was wondering if I could catch a ride and continue with what I was trying to say.” You fiddled with the strap as you anxiously awaited his answer, your nerves making your head and fingertips buzz with eagerness. He quickly glanced at the road in front of him, as if he was measuring how far he would take you, before subtly nodding. You couldn't hide the wide grin that slid onto your face as you hopped into the passenger seat, placing your backpack between your feet before securing your seatbelt.

He slowly started up the truck and began heading down the lonely road.

“Where to?” He grumbled, glancing at you through the corner of his eye as he waited for you to respond. “The nearest train station around.” You answered awkwardly while shrugging subtly, your response being the same answer you’ve told the last eight people who’ve driven you around a handful of states. He nodded slowly, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he stared at the road ahead.

“What I was going to say was that I needed a ride, so thank you,” You began, diverting your eyes from his the best you could. “But… I wanted to know if you were like me. And you are.” You could see him glance at you through the corner of his eye, his brow perking in intrigue.

“And what would that be?” He asked, keeping his eyes glued to the road as he awaited your answer. You stammered for a moment, wondering if there was a kinder name for it, but you eventually gave up and ended up calling it what it is.

“Mutants. You have… claws, and I can make people see stuff.” The man glanced at you once more, staying silent as he processed your words. “Make people see stuff how?” You awkwardly laughed before softly presenting your abilities, creating a fly that circles around the brunette’s head over and over. He lazily swiped at his ears, glancing at you before he realized it was your doing. “Ah,” he hummed, nodding softly as you dissipated the illusion.

“It’s more than flies, obviously,” You smiled sheepishly as you spoke, nervously rubbing your hands together to gather some kind of warmth against the chill winter air. “Is your… thing more than just claws?” You asked, glancing at the man briefly before tearing your eyes from him, a part of you scared to get caught staring.

“Uh, not really,” He mumbled, tightening his grip on the wheel ever so slightly. “I can heal pretty well. That's ‘bout it.” You laughed softly at his answer, not taking it completely seriously. “I don't think that's much of a superpower,” You grinned, staring at the brunette softly. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye, his expression unchanging.

“There's nothing super ‘bout it. Dunno who told you that.” You stared at him for a moment, his words slowly sinking in. Did he not like his mutation? Was it some kind of burden to him? Your eyes slowly drifted down to his knuckles, subtle scars lying where his claws would protrude from.

“When you use your claws, does it hurt?” You murmured, almost accidentally, as your eyes carefully studied his hands and wrists for any explanation of how his mutation worked. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel after you spoke, avoiding your lingering gaze as he kept driving.

“Every time.” He answered dryly, keeping his responses short as he tried to keep his focus directed onto the road ahead. Your eyes drifted up to meet his once again, your gaze slowly scanning his features and expression as you searched for any answers that could've been spotted with just a careful eye. Of course, you were fruitless.

His eyes finally left the road to glance down at your trembling hands, his calloused fingertips reaching for your wrist before he spoke. “Put your hands on the heater,” He mumbled, bringing your hands against the dashboard. “It’ll help.” He met your eyes briefly before staring down the road once more.

His touch felt almost electric, the feeling of physical touch after being starved of it for weeks feeling almost intoxicating at first. You quickly composed yourself, your focus being absorbed by the dashboard as the engine and the heater radiated warmth through your body.

After a few long moments of the car rumbling and bouncing around because of the bumpy road, your eyes eventually drifted to the dog tags that just barely dangled outside of his button-up shirt. The name “Wolverine” was pressed into the metal, a mouthful of numbers listed below it.

“Is ‘Wolverine’ really your name?” You asked, hoping the words didn't come off as judgemental as they seemed. He shook his head softly, subtly shoving the necklace into his shirt, attempting to keep it out of view. “No.” He stated flatly, glancing at you briefly before continuing. “It's Logan.” Your eyes flew up to meet his, the drop of openness feeling like a tidal wave from such a gruff person like him.

“Mine’s Y/N.” You couldn't help but smile as you told him your name, your chest warming at the simple exchange between you two. He nodded slowly at your response, a small smile slipping onto his face.

“What’re you doing around here, anyways? You stuck out like a sore thumb back there.” He gestured his head back to the cage fighting ring, turning to face you briefly before focusing back on the road. You diverted your eyes from him as you tried to come up with an answer, your words becoming lost to you as you failed to rationalize the truth, even to yourself. How could you tell him that you've been homeless for weeks in fear of what the mutant registry would do to you and force your family to do? He would probably laugh and kick you out of the car, telling you to sleep the paranoia off and take the nearest bus home.

"It's stupid," you murmured, staring out the passenger side window to avoid even getting a glance at his expression. He hummed in response, staying silent for a moment or two before speaking up.

"Are you runnin'?" He asked, turning to look you in the eye for a second only for you to be looking in the opposite direction. You laughed softly, slowly shaking your head. "Something like that."

The car stayed silent for a few more moments, the sound of the wind beating against the truck and the wheels bouncing against the snow-covered asphalt creating an almost comforting atmosphere in the vehicle.

As you stared down the road ahead, deep in thought, you rolled around your options in your head. You could stay silent until he dropped you off, or keep giving him shreds of who you are, hopefully kindling some kind of friendship. You swallowed down your nerves before speaking up, your mouth talking before your mind can.

"I was scared of hurting my family. Or the mutant registry thing hurting them instead. So... I just ran. Blindly." The choice sounded even stupider as you said it aloud, the reality of your choices slowly sinking in. You were homeless and constantly on the move because of a hunch, because of a fear. You could tell Logan agreed with the way he grinned softly, a chuckle slipping from his lips.

"You weren't kidding." He replied simply, glancing at you through the corner of his eye as he spoke. You stared down at your hands that rested in your lap, so many feelings of frustration, guilt, and fear swirling inside of your gut all at once. You were truly and utterly stupid. There was no denying that anymore.

You got lost in your thoughts as you tried to come up with any other options you could've chosen other than packing a bag and hopping city-to-city until you could find some kind of home for mutants. You could've been honest with your parents and used your brain for longer than half an hour before fleeing home and jumping onto the nearest train heading north. You could've tried to act normal until the mutant registry got put into place, constantly watching yourself so you don't expose your mutation to the public.

"Hey, kid," Logan called, gently tapping your hands that still desperately clasped the heated leather of the dashboard. You blinked multiple times before turning to face him, completely snapped out of your trance. "You did what you thought was right at the time. Don't beat yourself over it." He glanced at you between every few words, trying his best to maintain his focus on the road while also trying to make his words sound as genuine as possible.

"I just..." You murmured, your eyes diverting from his as you spoke. "I feel like a coward." Your eyes slowly filled with tears as you tried to find your words, your heart squeezing tighter and tighter with every second that went by.

"Hey..." Logan mumbled, his hand planting itself onto your thigh. He comfortingly tapped the skin before gripping the steering wheel once more, the gentle touch sending shivers throughout your body. "Don't think that way." He assured, gripping the wheel tighter as you failed to respond.

The sudden touch, the thoughts racing through your mind, and the way exhaustion washed over you in waves made processing this all so difficult. You stole a glance at him before humming in acknowledgment, subtly adjusting yourself in the passenger seat as you attempted to get comfortable. You could feel him stare at you through the corner of his eye, carefully watching as you curled up into the seat and fluttered your eyes shut. He smiled softly at the sight, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel as he focused back on the road ahead.

"I'm just gonna..." You murmured, your lips hanging open as exhaustion dragged you down to sleep before you could even fight back. Logan just softly laughed, shaking his head as he glanced to witness your snoring body.

"You do that," he mumbled, trying his best to keep his voice low enough to not startle you awake. He couldn't help but grin as he replayed the entire conversation over in his head, the kid's bravery and determination intriguing him. The way they cowered into themselves made his stomach churn, however, an urge to carefully watch over them roaring over any other thought. He wondered how long you have been on the move and how you've managed to stay brave enough to not run back home the second you got the urge to.

If he had somewhere to go home to, especially a family, he'd run back the moment he could - even with this mutant registry bill being wedged into the law.

He had to admit, you intrigued him in a way no one has before. Well, that's until a man with a visor over his eyes and a woman with ice-white hair stood in the center of the road and stared the car down.

rushed ending lowk, i was getting bored of writing this 😭😭 i hope it was still enjoyable!!!