Logan Howlett X Reader Smut - Tumblr Posts

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

big bad wolf

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

a/n: inspired by the fact that Hugh Jackman thought wolverines were just a type of wolf and no one corrected him. Rusty because I haven’t written smut in a while so you guys aren’t allowed to talk any shit. Plus, I’m too much of a wimp to be like extremely explicit, but these prompts ( one, two, three) together were too good to pass up. 

SMUT 18+ (my slight monsterfucker tendencies might shine through in this one)

Summary: Logan's told you a million times not to take the path through the woods. You never listen, of course. Now there's a monster on your tail and you're all alone. (part of my Halloween Palooza)

You never should have taken this path. You knew it was going to happen, Logan had warned you, and you still didn’t listen. Now, you’re in the middle of the woods, completely turned around and on the verge of tears. God, why do you never listen?

You put your groceries down and pull out your phone. Through the thick spread of leaves, you get minimal moonlight. You’re surrounded by shifting shadows and rustling undergrowth. Everywhere you turn is a monster waiting to leap out at you. 

When you were little you were petrified of the dark. You hated the shapes you saw lurking within it. You’d outgrown that as an adult, but now, you can barely breathe as your eyes dart all around. The childish fear is returned with a vengeance and you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

You flip open your phone, squatting on the ground and trying to conserve your body's warmth. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since you left the house. Of course, Logan had told you to bring a jacket too. Did you listen? No. 

You were only going out to get some chips and dip, you really didn’t think it would take so long. But then you’d got caught up talking to one of your friends and before you knew it, it was pitch black outside. You should have just called Logan at the store, asked him for a ride. Now, you’re staring down at the flickering screen of your flip phone and about to sob as you see the bars disappearing. 

“No fucking service, of course,” you hiss and shove the phone back in your pocket. The battery’s nearly dead anyway. You doubt it would have lasted long enough for a phone call. You run a stressed hand over your face, trying to calm your breathing down. 

You’re trying to trick yourself into thinking that everything’s okay. That the shadows are just shadows and you’re scared. Then you hear it. 

It’s a low noise, something out of your worst nightmares. There’s an immediate spike of adrenaline as an inhuman growl echoes through the night air. You swear you can feel it inside your chest. It rumbles through the animal, bursts through clenched fangs, and makes the hair on your neck stand on end. 

You glance over your shoulder, mouth parted in a silent scream. You don’t see anything, you can’t. You just barely make out the branches shifting nearby before you’re leaping to your feet. You almost call out, see whose there, but that feels like the last move every bimbo makes in a horror movie. 

So, you do something arguably worse. You abandon your groceries and purse and bolt. Immediately you can hear its pounding footsteps chasing after you. You do scream now, there’s no point in swallowing it down. It’s like the terror is ripping through you, making you stumble over every branch and rock in your path. 

You know it's faster than you. You can hear how easily its keeping up its stride behind you. This feels like a game to it. It's just teasing you, dangling freedom in front of its prey before it closes its drooling maw around your neck. 

You trip over an enlarged root and go flying forward. Rocks scrape across your arm and you let out a short shriek of pain. The flesh tears easily on the sharp points and the metallic scent of your blood fills the air. It comes to a sudden stop a few feet away from you. There are no thoughts in your head besides the voice screaming at you to RUN!

It tells you to keep running. If you stop it will catch you and it will kill you. This is no longer a product of your imagination. This is real and it is hungry for you. You scramble to your feet, boots slipping along the muddy forest floor. You dig your fingers into the earth, feel the dirt slide under your nails, and launch yourself forward. You nearly flip your feet over your head but you manage to keep yourself steady. 

You can’t hear the steps behind you. The beat of your heart pounds through your head, drives you forward, and discombobulates you all the same. Blood rushes so quickly beneath your skin that you can feel your vessels swelling with the warmth of your terror-fueled adrenaline. 

You’ve never felt so inferior before, like a rabbit desperately trying to escape the hungry jaws of a wolf. Your legs are moving faster than they ever have, you’re bounding, racing, leaping through the forest. You move through it like you were born in it, anything to escape whatever was following you. 

You no longer remember the way home or what home is. You can only focus on right now. You don’t notice the dark shape running alongside you, or how easily it keeps pace. Not until it’s barreling into your side and you go slamming into the ground again. Your head nearly bounces against a rock but something slides underneath it, stopping the impact at the last second. 

Something rough grips at your face. You’re still blind, blood rushing so hard beneath your skin, you’re practically blind with panic. You bite down, taste flesh, and hold on until blood rushes into your mouth. The metallic tang of it is like poison against your tongue but you don’t let go. 

“Release!” He orders you like a dog. His voice is so thick with anger and hunger that you barely recognize it. But something clicks in your head and you unlock your jaw from his palm. “The fuck have I told you about taking this path?” Again, his voice is so thick with volatile rage that you barely register it. 

“Sorry,” you sob out, shoving at his chest and scrambling to sit up. But he keeps you pinned to the ground, one hand clamped tightly around your neck and the other pushing down against your stomach. You can feel something hard against your thigh but you pay it no mind, still struggling to catch your breath. 

You take in deep, heaving, gasps of air and the moon shifts overhead. It gives you just enough light to see Logan clearly now. You nearly choke at the sight of his face. His lips are peeled back, sharpened points of teeth causing blood to bead along his lower lips. His beard seems scruffier than normal and there’s a golden glow to his eyes. 

“What the fuck?” You stutter out, glaring up at him. You’ve seen him angry before. But you’ve never seen him quite so animalistic. “Logan?” You whisper his name hesitantly and it only makes him look more pissed off. You shrink back, though there’s not far to go with him holding you like this. 

His hips shift down and you bite down on your lip so a pathetic whimper doesn’t escape you. His head tilts curiously, gaze raking over your heaving chest and then down to the too-short shorts you’d put on earlier. 

He gives you a look of astonished disbelief, “You fuckin’ kidding me?” 

The hand on your stomach drifts down to the waistband of your shorts. Your eyes widen when you realize what he’s trying to do. “Logan, wait-” Too late. He rips the shorts down your legs and his eyes widen. The sneer of his lips finally melts away as he sees the clear wet spot in the middle of your underwear. 

You don’t even get a chance to defend yourself before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you over. Your hands struggle for purchase on the slippery rock in front of you. You try and glance back at him, but he buries a hand in your hair, tugging harshly, and forcing your face forward. 

“Logan, please,” you whine, thoroughly humiliated as he sits behind you, silently examining your battered form. You’d tripped more than you thought while you’d been running from him. The adrenaline has just barely waned enough for you to feel the bruises forming. But he has no sympathy for your plight, if anything your tears seem to egg him on. 

“What have I told you about taking this path?” You bite your tongue, a sudden refusal to answer raging forth. He’s got you half-naked on your hands and knees after chasing you through the woods. You shouldn’t have to be scolded like an imbecile on top of that. 

He leans over you, the weight of his body pushing forward, your arms strain to keep you both up. You grit your teeth, still keeping your mouth clamped shut. He chuckles, the noise so low you feel it rattling through you rather than hear it. “I could hear you.”

His hand drifts down your bicep, wraps around your front, and rests over your breasts. “Could hear how fast your heart was beating. It’s still about to come out of your chest.” You suck in a sharp breath, keeping yourself from arching into his touch.

His nose lingers against the side of your head, dipping towards your neck and inhaling deeply. Your face wrinkles in confusion as he practically smells you. “I can smell how terrified you were.” His hand suddenly jerks your head back and you can’t help but yelp. There’s a smirk on his lips as he finally gets a noise from you. 

You can feel the desire practically dripping down your thighs at this point. All you can think about is how powerful he is. How hungry he is for you. You want him to devour you, completely wreck you. 

He releases you and without his support, you slump forward, neck bowing awkwardly. You try and right yourself but one of his hands grips your neck so tight you can feel the blood rushing up into your face. He pins you there and the only warning you have of what he’s about to do is the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. 

He thrusts into you and your jaw drops. You inhale the dirt beneath you and it tastes remarkably like blood. He pushes your cheek further into the ground and you grunt as tiny little pebbles have their taste of your flesh. 

Had you not been so wet, you doubt you would have enjoyed a second of this. But, because his chasing you down like something feral made you more aroused than you have been in months, you let out a pathetic moan beneath him. It borders on the thin line between pain and pleasure. But each rough thrust inside you blurs the line until they’re indiscernible from one another. 

Your fists curl up, mud sticking in the lines of your palm as he takes you like you’re nothing more than a toy. You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how used you feel. But you relish it. Relish in how crazy you make him, to the point that he’d lose his mind and use you like this. 

He’s like a fucking animal. Taking what he wants from you with no concern or care to whether you like it or not. He’s panting and grunting behind you, you don’t understand the insults spewing from his mouth because there’s blood rushing in your ears and you feel like you might pass out. 

The adrenaline and residual terror from earlier are building into one explosive moment inside you. Your fingers tremble with it, your limbs burn from the volatile feeling and you can’t help the noises being forced out of you.  It doesn’t take much longer for you to combust. 

Pleasure rushes through you, makes you numb to the world around you. A dulled tickling feeling rushes through every part of you. Your arms go limp and he’s quick to wrap a hand around your waist, keeping you upright. He presses into your lower back, arching it until he’s hitting the spot inside you that causes aftershocks of painful pleasure. 

Your core throbs as you pulse around him. Sucking him deeper until his hips come to an erratic stop and he spills inside you. You keep your forehead pressed to the cool earth beneath you. You never actually managed to catch your breath before and now it just feels like you’re five seconds away from hyperventilating. 

A soothing hand runs up and down your spine, he curls around you and helps you to sit up. His voice is a low whisper, “You alright?”

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and giving him a shaky nod. He laughs and pulls you to stand up. Your legs were limp from running earlier, now they’re practically boneless. He keeps you propped against him and pulls your shorts back up. 

He buttons his jeans and straightens. His eyes narrow as he glares down at you. He cups your chin, tilting your head to examine the scratches on your cheeks and tutting at you. His fingers tighten to the point of pain and he jerks your face up to meet his eyes. “You gonna come down this path again?”

After that, yes. You completely would. He sees the look on your face and rolls his eyes. He leans down, tossing you over his shoulder and groaning. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You like it,” you taunt, tugging at his shirt for balance. 

He shakes his head but you know he’s smiling. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Same time next week?” You tease as he goes back for your groceries and purse. 

“Don’t push it,” he snaps. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.

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

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.”

Claws of the Heart

Summary: In a world where mutants are nearly extinct, James Logan Howlett, better known as Wolverine, has lived a long and tortured life. Now in his 200s, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, he unexpectedly finds a glimmer of light in the form of a young woman in her 30s who lives next door. Their connection is undeniable, but when a man her age starts vying for her attention, Logan's primal instincts kick in. Fueled by jealousy, he does everything he can to win her heart, even if it means battling the demons of his past.

Pairing: Oldman!James Logan Howlett x Neighbor!Fem-human reader Genre: Fluff, Angst

Logan’s boots scuffed against the gravel as he walked down the dusty road toward the small, secluded town he’d been hiding out in for the last few months. His joints ached more than usual—just another reminder that he was no longer the young, invincible Wolverine. Time had done a number on him, but he wasn’t dead yet.

He glanced up at the sound of laughter drifting from the open window of the house next door. He knew that laugh—soft, light, and it stirred something in him he hadn’t felt in years. A pang of something unfamiliar—hope, maybe? But he’d learned long ago that hope was a dangerous thing.

His gaze landed on you, the woman who’d moved in next door about six months back. You were in your early thirties, full of life, and every time you smiled at him, it knocked him off balance. Not that he’d let you know it.

He grunted to himself as he watched you chat with the guy from two houses down—Tom, or Tim, something like that. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the way he leaned in too close, how you laughed at whatever lame joke he was telling. Logan’s grip tightened on the grocery bag he was carrying. His claws itched to come out, but he pushed down the urge.

Instead, he turned and walked back to his cabin. He wasn’t going to be some lovesick puppy pining over a woman. But damn, it was hard to ignore the jealousy that flared in his chest every time he saw you with that guy.

He tossed the groceries on the counter and opened a beer, taking a long swig as he leaned against the counter, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him. You were just a woman, just a neighbor—no reason to get worked up. He tried to convince himself of that, but deep down, he knew it was a lie.

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

Later that evening, Logan found himself sitting on his porch, the sunset casting long shadows across the yard. He heard your door creak open, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw you step outside, your gaze landing on him.

“Hey, Logan,” you called out, that sweet smile on your lips as you walked over.

“Evenin’,” Logan replied, trying to sound casual, but his heart was thudding in his chest like he’d just been in a fight.

“Whatcha doin’ out here all alone?” you asked, leaning against the porch railing, too close and not close enough at the same time.

Logan shrugged. “Just enjoyin’ the quiet.”

You smiled and sat down next to him, your leg brushing against his. He stiffened slightly but didn’t pull away. Instead, he took another swig of his beer, trying to focus on anything other than how close you were.

“So, you never really talk about yourself, Logan. What’s your story?” you asked, turning to face him.

Logan glanced at you, those big, curious eyes of yours looking right through him. He grunted, not sure how to respond. “Ain’t much to tell,” he muttered.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I don’t believe that for a second. Everyone’s got a story.”

“Not mine,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. But you didn’t flinch, just kept looking at him with that soft, patient expression that made him feel like he could actually tell you—if he wasn’t so damn scared of what you’d think.

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

The next few weeks were torture for Logan. Every time he saw you with that guy, the jealousy gnawed at him like a dog with a bone. He started finding excuses to be outside more often, hoping to catch you alone, to steal just a few moments where it was just the two of you. But it seemed like every time he was about to make his move, there was that damn neighbor again, laughing with you, making you smile.

Logan’s patience snapped one afternoon when he saw you sitting on your porch, and that guy—Ted or whatever—leaned in to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. Logan was across the yard before he realized what he was doing.

“Hey,” he barked, his voice rougher than usual.

You and the guy looked up, surprised. Logan felt a grim satisfaction when he saw a flash of discomfort in the guy’s eyes.

“Logan, what’s up?” you asked, tilting your head to the side, that concerned expression making his heart squeeze.

“Just thought you might wanna come check out somethin’ I’m workin’ on,” Logan said, forcing his voice to sound casual, though the tension in his muscles betrayed him.

You glanced between the two men, then smiled. “Sure, Logan. I’ll be right there.”

The guy opened his mouth to protest, but Logan shot him a look that could’ve cut steel. Without another word, the guy mumbled something about needing to go and quickly made his exit.

Logan turned back to you, his heart still pounding, but he played it cool. “Sorry ’bout that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You chuckled. “It’s fine, Logan. Ted was just leaving anyway.”

“Yeah, Ted. Good riddance,” Logan muttered under his breath, feeling a surge of triumph that he’d gotten rid of the guy, at least for now.

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

As the days went by, Logan found himself spending more and more time with you. He showed you how to fix things around the house, taught you how to defend yourself—just in case, he said, though he’d be damned if he ever let anything happen to you. And slowly, bit by bit, he started opening up, sharing bits of his past, letting you see the man behind the claws.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you were sitting on the porch steps, Logan beside you. You had just finished telling him about your day, and there was a comfortable silence between you two.

“You know,” you began, glancing over at him, “I’ve never met anyone like you, Logan.”

He grunted in response, not sure what to say. Compliments weren’t something he was used to.

“I mean it,” you continued, turning to face him fully. “You’re… different. In a good way.”

Logan felt his chest tighten, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if he could trust his voice. “You ain’t so bad yourself, kid,” he finally said, the words coming out softer than he intended.

You laughed, the sound sending warmth through him. “I’m not a kid, you know. I’m thirty-four.”

“Still a kid to me,” Logan said with a smirk, but there was no bite to his words.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t fade. “And here I was thinking you might actually ask me out sometime.”

Logan blinked, caught off guard. “You want that?”

“Maybe I do,” you said, leaning in closer, your face inches from his.

Logan’s breath caught in his throat. He’d faced down some of the most dangerous foes in the world, but the thought of leaning in, of kissing you right here and now, terrified him in a way he hadn’t felt in years. But it also felt right. So he took the plunge.

He leaned in, closing the distance, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, but as you responded, it deepened, becoming something more. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, and Logan could barely believe what had just happened.

“I… uh,” Logan started, but you cut him off with another kiss, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

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

After that night, Logan and you were inseparable. But Ted wasn’t done. He kept showing up, trying to win your attention back, and each time, Logan’s jealousy flared hotter. He wasn’t used to fighting for someone like this—most of the time, people just got out of his way. But you were worth it.

One day, Logan found Ted waiting by your front door, holding a bouquet of flowers. Logan’s jaw clenched as he approached, his boots heavy on the gravel. The sight of Ted standing there, grinning like an idiot, made his blood boil.

"Hey, man," Ted greeted, acting casual, like he wasn’t trying to worm his way into your life.

Logan stopped a few feet away, his eyes narrowing. "What’re you doin’ here?"

Ted shrugged, holding up the flowers. "Just thought I’d surprise her. She’s been working hard, figured she could use a little pick-me-up."

Logan felt his claws itching to pop out, but he kept them in check. He wasn’t going to lose his cool—not in front of you, not over some wannabe Romeo.

“She don’t need your flowers,” Logan growled, taking a step closer. “She’s got all the pick-me-ups she needs.”

Ted laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it. "Come on, Logan. You’re a good guy and all, but she’s not yours. You can’t just scare off every guy who shows interest."

Logan’s eyes flashed with something dark, a reminder that he wasn’t just some regular guy. "You’d be smart to back off, Ted. This ain’t a game."

Before Ted could respond, your front door opened, and you stepped out, your eyes widening when you saw the two men facing off. "Logan? Ted? What’s going on?"

Logan forced himself to relax, stepping back to give you space. "Just havin’ a chat with Ted here."

Ted quickly handed you the flowers, a sheepish grin on his face. "Hey, I just wanted to bring these by. Thought they might brighten your day."

You smiled politely, taking the flowers, but your eyes darted to Logan, who was still standing there, tense as a coiled spring. "Thanks, Ted. That’s sweet of you."

Ted beamed, but his smile faltered when he saw the way you looked at Logan. "Well, I should get going. I’ll see you around."

You nodded, and as Ted walked away, you turned to Logan, who was still glaring after him. "Logan, what was that about?"

Logan grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nothin’. Just don’t like the way he’s always hangin’ around."

You sighed, stepping closer to him, and placing a hand on his arm. "Logan, you don’t have to worry about Ted. I’m not interested in him like that."

Logan’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at you, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You sure about that? ‘Cause it looks like he’s gonna keep tryin’."

You smiled, squeezing his arm. "I’m sure. You’re the one I want to be with."

Logan’s heart skipped a beat at your words. He wasn’t used to this—this feeling of being wanted, of being chosen. It was new and terrifying, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel something he hadn’t in a long time.

He nodded, his voice gruff but sincere. "I’ll keep that in mind."

You leaned in, kissing him softly on the cheek, and Logan felt his resolve strengthen. He wasn’t going to let some punk like Ted get between you two. He’d fight for you, tooth and claw, if he had to.

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

As the weeks passed, the tension between Logan and Ted simmered just below the surface. Ted still tried to worm his way into your life, showing up at odd hours, bringing little gifts, and always flashing that charming smile. But every time, Logan was there, watching, waiting, his jealousy growing stronger by the day.

You could sense the turmoil in Logan, even if he tried to hide it. He was rough around the edges, but you knew there was more to him than the gruff exterior he showed the world. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you—it was all so careful, so deliberate, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

One evening, as a summer storm raged outside, you found Logan sitting on your porch, his eyes lost in the rain. You stepped outside, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders, and sat down beside him.

"Babe," you said softly, placing a hand on his knee. "What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?"

Logan didn’t look at you right away. He stared out into the storm, the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. "Just thinkin’," he finally muttered, his voice barely audible over the rain.

"About Ted?" you asked, knowing the answer.

Logan grunted in response, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "’Bout a lot of things."

You moved closer, resting your head on his shoulder. "Talk to me, babe. I can’t help if you keep everything bottled up."

Logan sighed, his rough exterior cracking just a bit. "I don’t like him hangin’ around you, okay? Every time I see him, it’s like this… this beast inside me just wants to tear him apart."

You blinked, surprised by the raw honesty in his words. "Logan…"

He turned to look at you, his eyes dark and intense. "I’ve done a lotta things in my life I ain’t proud of. Seen things, lost people… I don’t want to lose you, too. But every time I see you with him, it’s like… I dunno, like I’m gonna lose somethin’ important. And it scares the hell outta me."

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his stubbled cheeks. "You’re not gonna lose me, babe. I’m here, and I’m not goin’ anywhere. But you gotta trust me, okay? Trust that I know what I want."

Logan swallowed hard, nodding slightly. "I trust you, darlin’. It’s me I don’t trust."

You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him, and Logan melted into the touch, the storm outside forgotten as he wrapped his arms around you. For the first time in years, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to be alone anymore.

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

The next day, Logan was out back, chopping wood to burn off some of the restless energy that had been plaguing him. The sound of the axe hitting the wood was rhythmic, almost meditative, but his thoughts were anything but calm.

Ted showed up again, this time strolling right into Logan’s yard like he owned the place. Logan didn’t stop what he was doing, but he didn’t have to—Ted came right up to him, hands shoved in his pockets, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Hey, Logan," Ted said, his tone too casual for Logan’s liking. "We need to talk."

Logan paused mid-swing, the axe hovering in the air. "’Bout what?"

"About her," Ted replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Look, man, I get it. You’ve got this whole rough, mysterious vibe going on, but let’s be real—how long do you think you can keep her interested? She’s young, full of life. You… well, you’re not exactly a spring chicken, are you?"

Logan’s grip tightened on the axe handle, his knuckles turning white. He lowered the axe slowly, turning to face Ted fully. "You tryin’ to start somethin’, kid?"

Ted held up his hands in mock surrender. "Not at all. I’m just sayin’, maybe it’s time you stepped aside. Let her have a shot at something real, something that’s not tied down by… whatever you got goin’ on."

Logan’s claws itched to come out, but he held them back, forcing himself to stay calm. "You don’t know a damn thing about me, or what she wants."

"Maybe not," Ted admitted, his smirk widening. "But I know what I see. And what I see is a man who’s past his prime, holding onto something he can’t keep."

Logan took a step forward, his eyes darkening with barely controlled rage. "You keep pushin’, and you’ll see just how much fight I got left in me."

Ted’s smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Look, I’m not here to fight. I’m here to give you a choice—step aside, or I’ll make sure you regret not doing it."

Logan’s lips curled into a snarl, his claws itching to break free, but he knew better. As much as he wanted to tear Ted apart, he knew that wasn’t the answer. Instead, he took a deep breath, forcing the rage back down. "You ever come near her again, I won’t be responsible for what happens next."

Ted’s eyes flashed with something—fear, maybe—but he quickly masked it with a cocky grin. "We’ll see about that, old man."

With that, Ted turned and walked away, leaving Logan standing there, his heart pounding with anger and frustration. He knew he had to do something, but the question was, how far was he willing to go to keep you safe?

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

That evening, Logan found you sitting on your porch, the soft glow of the setting sun casting a warm light over your face. You smiled when you saw him, but your smile faltered slightly when you noticed the tension in his eyes. Logan sat down beside you, his usual stoic expression replaced by something deeper, more troubled. You could tell he had something on his mind.

"Babe," you began softly, reaching for his hand. "What’s wrong? You’ve been distant all day."

Logan took a deep breath, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. He wasn’t sure how to start, but he knew he couldn’t keep this from you any longer. "Ted came by earlier," he said, his voice low.

You frowned, concern knitting your brows together. "What did he want?"

Logan’s jaw tightened as he recalled the conversation. "He thinks I should step aside. That I’m not what you need."

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that. "Step aside? Babe, that’s ridiculous. What did you say?"

Logan looked away, staring out at the horizon. "I told him to back off. But… part of me wonders if he’s right."

You were taken aback by his words. "Babe, how can you even think that? You’re everything I need. You’re strong, caring, and… you make me feel safe."

Logan shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping him. "Safe, huh? I’m anything but safe. I got a past full of blood and regret. I’m not the kind of guy who’s good for someone like you."

You squeezed his hand tighter, not willing to let him pull away. "I don’t care about your past, Logan. I care about who you are now, and who you are to me. Ted doesn’t know you—he doesn’t know us. And I’m not going to let him or anyone else decide what’s right for me."

Logan turned to look at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But all he saw was the sincerity in your gaze, the unwavering belief that he was worth fighting for. It stirred something deep within him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time—hope.

"But what if he’s right?" Logan asked, his voice barely a whisper. "What if I’m just foolin’ myself, thinking I can have somethin’ good without it all fallin’ apart?"

You leaned in closer, your other hand coming up to cradle his face. "Logan, life isn’t about being perfect or having all the answers. It’s about making choices, and I’ve chosen you. I want to be with you, and I’m not afraid of what that means. We’ll figure it out together, no matter what."

Logan’s breath hitched as he felt the weight of your words. It wasn’t just about Ted, or his past, or the fears that haunted him. It was about trust—trusting you, trusting himself, and trusting that maybe, just maybe, he could have something good for once in his life.

He nodded slowly, his eyes softening as he leaned his forehead against yours. "I don’t deserve you, but I’m not gonna let you go."

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in twilight, Logan felt a sense of peace wash over him. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t just surviving—he was living.

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

The next day, you decided it was time to put an end to Ted’s advances once and for all. You couldn’t let him continue to disrupt the peace you and Logan had fought so hard to build. You called Ted, asking him to meet you at a local café, a public place where you could have a conversation without the threat of things getting out of hand.

Ted arrived, all smiles, clearly thinking that you’d finally come to your senses. But when he saw the serious expression on your face, his grin faltered.

“Hey,” he greeted, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

You didn’t waste any time getting to the point. “Ted, we need to talk about this… whatever this is.”

Ted sat down across from you, his expression growing more serious. “Okay, I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I appreciate the attention, I do. But this has to stop. I’m with Logan, and that’s not going to change.”

Ted’s eyes darkened slightly, but he kept his tone light. “You don’t have to be. You deserve better, someone who can give you a normal life. Logan… he’s dangerous.”

You shook your head, not letting his words shake you. “Logan isn’t dangerous to me. He’s been through a lot, but that doesn’t change who he is—who he is to me. I care about him, Ted. This isn’t something you can just talk me out of.”

Ted leaned forward, a desperate edge creeping into his voice. “But why him? You could have anyone, someone who can give you a future, a family…”

You sighed, feeling a pang of pity for Ted. He didn’t understand—he couldn’t. “Ted, you’re a good guy, but you’re not the one I want. I’m sorry if that hurts, but it’s the truth.”

Ted’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. “So that’s it? You’re just going to throw away a chance at something real for a guy like him?”

You stood up, your decision firm. “I’ve already got something real, Ted. And I’m not going to throw it away.”

Ted watched as you turned to leave, a storm of emotions playing across his face. But you didn’t look back. You had made your choice, and there was no room for doubt.

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

When you returned home, Logan was waiting for you, a mix of anxiety and hope in his eyes. “How’d it go?”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him. “It’s over. I told him I’m with you, and that’s not going to change.”

Logan exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief flooding through him. “You sure he got the message?”

You nodded, resting your head against his chest. “Yeah, I’m sure. He won’t bother us again.”

Logan’s arms tightened around you, holding you close. “Thank you, darlin’. For choosing me.”

You looked up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I didn’t just choose you, Logan. I chose us. And I’m not letting go.”

Logan leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow, tender, and full of all the things he couldn’t put into words. In that moment, all the doubts, the fears, the what-ifs—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you and the life you were building together.

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

Years passed, and the love between you and Logan only grew stronger. You faced challenges together, fought battles side by side, and through it all, you never wavered in your commitment to one another. Logan learned to let go of the guilt and pain that had haunted him for so long, finding peace in the life you shared.

And as you sat together on your porch, watching the sunset, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. With Logan by your side, you felt complete, knowing that no matter what the future held, you would face it together.

Because in the end, love wasn’t about finding someone who was perfect. It was about finding someone who made you feel like you were worth fighting for—someone who made you feel alive. And that was exactly what you had found in Logan. You leaned into Logan’s embrace, feeling his warmth surround you. And in that moment, you knew that you had found a love that would endure, a love that would last a lifetime.

The Great Outdoors

Summary: Logan takes you on a camping trip, but his survival skills are hilariously outdated.

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

Genre              : Fluff

The sun was already dipping low behind the trees when Logan parked the truck. He got out like he was about to conquer the wild, while you stood there, looking at the woods and trying not to laugh at the seriousness on his face. Logan wasn’t the camping type—or at least, not the “modern” kind. He was more like the “rough it with nothing but your fists and claws” type.

This was going to be interesting.

“So, what’s the plan, Bear Grylls?” you teased, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Logan grunted, pulling out a rolled-up tent from the back of the truck. “Survive. That’s the plan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, so detailed. I feel so prepared.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve done this a hundred times. Just follow my lead, and we’ll be fine.”

Oh, boy.

You made your way into the clearing Logan had apparently scoped out beforehand. It wasn’t bad, actually—nice little spot near a river, surrounded by trees that rustled softly in the evening breeze. As soon as you set your stuff down, Logan got to work... sort of.

He started with the tent. You watched him as he unfolded it, frowning like the damn thing had personally offended him. “These damn things get more complicated every year,” he muttered, trying to shove a pole into one of the sleeves.

“Need some help?” you asked, biting your lip to keep from laughing as he wrestled with it.

“Nah, I got it,” he grumbled, jamming the pole so hard it almost snapped.

Five minutes later, the tent was half-collapsed, one corner flapping in the wind, and Logan was cursing under his breath.

“I think it’s supposed to stand up, Logan.”

He shot you a look, then glanced back at the tent. “It’s fine. I’m just, uh... testing its durability.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “Right. Maybe you should just let me handle that.”

“I’m a grown-ass man,” he muttered, glaring at the tent like it had insulted his mother.

“Yeah, and you’re losing a fight to a piece of nylon.”

After another moment of watching him struggle, you stepped in and started putting the thing together while Logan, not exactly one for sitting still, decided to gather firewood. He disappeared into the woods with nothing but his claws, because why bring a hatchet when you’re Logan?

By the time he came back, arms full of sticks and logs, the tent was up and looking perfect. You leaned against it, smirking as he dropped the wood into a pile.

“See?” you said, gesturing to the tent. “That’s how it’s done.”

Logan grunted, clearly not impressed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see you start a fire.”

You crossed your arms. “Watch and learn, old man.”

He grinned, that dangerous little glint in his eye. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Logan, being Logan, didn’t just gather some twigs and light them with a match like a normal person. No, that would’ve been too easy. Instead, he pulled out his claws and crouched next to the fire pit, sparks flying as he struck them against a rock.

“Logan, that’s not how—”

Whoosh!

The pile of wood lit up like someone had dumped gasoline on it. Flames shot up higher than you thought possible, and you stumbled back, laughing your ass off while Logan jumped up, cursing.

“Goddammit!” He swiped his claws through the air, trying to beat the flames down. “I meant to do that.”

“Oh, sure,” you choked out between laughs, wiping at your eyes. “That’s the perfect height for roasting marshmallows, right?”

Logan glared at the mini-bonfire for a second, then at you. “Next time, you can light the damn thing.”

You couldn’t stop laughing, the sound of it bouncing around the trees. Logan finally cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it behind a gruff mutter.

After some careful maneuvering (read: Logan finally letting you fix the fire), you both settled down for the evening. The fire was low, crackling softly, the night air cool around you. Stars were starting to peek through the darkening sky, and the only sounds were the soft hum of the forest and Logan chewing on beef jerky.

You leaned back against a log, holding your hands out to the fire. “So, what now? Gonna show me your impressive ghost story collection?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, gnawing on his jerky like a wild animal. “Ghost stories? What are we, twelve?”

“Come on,” you teased. “Everyone knows camping isn’t complete without ghost stories. It’s like... the law.”

He scoffed but leaned back, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “Alright. You want a ghost story? I’ll give you one.”

“Oh, this oughta be good.”

Logan cleared his throat dramatically. “So... once upon a time... there was this girl. Thought she was real tough. Real smart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is this about me?”

“Shhh, I’m tellin’ a story here,” Logan said, smirking. “Anyway, she thought she could survive out in the wild with just a little ol’ tent and her wit. But one night, she heard a rustling in the trees... something... watching her.”

You leaned in, playing along, even though you knew exactly where this was going. “Oh, yeah? What was it?”

Logan’s eyes widened theatrically. “A bear! Big, ugly thing. Twice her size. It came into her camp, sniffin’ around, and you know what she did?”

You shook your head, grinning. “What?”

“Nothing. She just froze. The bear ate all her snacks, tore up her tent, and left her sittin’ there in her own piss.”

You burst out laughing. “Wow, Logan. Truly terrifying. 10/10. I’m gonna have nightmares for weeks.”

Logan grinned, leaning closer. “I got more. You’ll be beggin’ for mercy by the end of the night.”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’re such an ass.”

As the night deepened and the fire began to die down, you both retreated into the tent. It was surprisingly cozy inside, the faint warmth of the fire lingering outside while you snuggled into your sleeping bag. Logan stretched out beside you, his body taking up way too much space, but you didn’t mind.

“Comfy?” you asked, glancing at him as he wiggled around.

“Like a fuckin’ sardine,” he muttered, trying to adjust in the small space. “Who the hell makes these tents so damn small?”

“They’re meant for normal-sized people, not... whatever the hell you are,” you said with a smirk.

Logan snorted. “Mutant privilege. I need bigger accommodations.”

You both lay there for a few minutes, the quiet settling in around you. Logan’s breathing was steady, his body warm next to yours, and despite his earlier grumblings, you could tell he was content. This whole camping thing wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Alright,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “I’ve got a ghost story.”

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, so you went on.

“There’s this guy, right? Big, tough, hairy—like, really hairy. The kinda guy you wouldn’t wanna meet in a dark alley.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but you kept going.

“And one night, he decides to go camping with this totally amazing girl—smart, funny, great taste in camping snacks—”

“Wow, I wonder who this is about,” Logan deadpanned.

“Shhh,” you said, stifling a laugh. “But the thing is... the guy? He’s got a secret. See, he acts all tough, like nothing scares him, but deep down? He’s terrified of one thing.”

Logan looked over at you, eyes narrowing. “What?”

You grinned, leaning in close. “Commitment.”

Logan blinked, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling. “But you know I’m right.”

He didn’t deny it, just stretched out a hand to pull you closer, his arm wrapping around you with an ease that made your heart flutter a little too fast.

“I’m scared of plenty of things,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “Just not the same kinda things as you.”

“Like what?” you asked, curious now.

Logan looked at you, his eyes serious for once. “Losing people. People I care about. That’s what scares me.”

The confession was quiet, unexpected, and it hit harder than you’d thought. You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but Logan just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, pulling you in tighter.

“Guess that makes you a real badass,” you whispered after a moment, your voice barely breaking the stillness of the tent.

“Damn right,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now shut up and go to sleep before I start tellin’ real scary stories.”

You smiled against his chest, warmth spreading through you as the sound of the river and the soft crackling of the dying fire lulled you to sleep. And maybe, just maybe, you’d both survived the great outdoors after all.

MASTERLIST

James 'Logan' Howlett (Wolverine)

One-Shots

Clawsome Dad

Snikt Happens

Bite-Sized Betrayal

Bloodheat

The Last Drop

Sticky Sweet

Mutant Spa Day

Fury Roadtrip

Claimed

Primal Mark

Breeding Fever

Mood Ring

Wild Sip

Naughty Secrets

Feral Obsession

Public Heat

Driver's Seat

Babe, Relax!

Babe, You Got This

Claw Machine Master

Second Date

Swipe Right, Bub

Hug Of Death

Beard Wars

Logan vs. The Cooking Show

The Great Outdoors

Marked By Claws

Broken Claws and Tender Hearts

Claws of The Heart

Abyss of Time

Logan vs. The Cooking Show

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

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

Genre              : Fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Slash!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MASTERLIST

Marvel and X-Men

James 'Logan' Howlett (The Wolverine)

Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier)

Steve Rogers (coming soon)

Cheesy Pickup Lines

Logan: If I were cheese, you’d be the cracker. Y/N: Aww, that’s the cutest thing ever! ❤️ Logan: .....................I’m disgusted by how cheesy that was.

Beard Wars

Summary: Logan’s been growing out his beard, and you’re starting to suspect it might be a little too attached to his face. Now it’s become a silent standoff between you, his beard, and the world’s dullest scissors.

Pairing             : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Wife!Fem-reader

Genre              : Fluff

You’d seen Logan do a lot of wild stuff in your time together. The man fought in wars, took bullets like mosquito bites, and still had the nerve to complain about your cooking. But nothing—nothing—had prepared you for the unholy battle brewing in your bathroom.

It had been growing… and growing. Logan’s beard, that is. The thing had practically taken on a life of its own. And sure, when it first started, it was rugged. Hot, even. You loved the whole “wild lumberjack with claws” look. But after a couple months, the beard went from sexy to Sasquatch. Now it was long enough to braid… if you dared.

You stood there, glaring at Logan as he sat on the couch, legs kicked up, flipping through channels like he didn’t have a forest attached to his chin. You crossed your arms. “Logan.”

“Hmm?”

“We gotta talk about it.”

He didn’t even look at you. “Talk about what?”

“The beard.”

He glanced up over the remote, raising one bushy eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Babe.” You gestured to his face. “It’s gotten out of control. It’s like… you’re turning into Chewbacca.”

Logan shrugged, clearly not giving a single shit. “What? It’s fine.”

“Fine? Logan, it’s a beard. Not a security blanket.” You shook your head. “I swear, it’s like you’re afraid of trimming it.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying himself. “Afraid? Nah. Just like the way it looks.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Babe, it’s started curling up at the ends. It looks like a goddamn villain’s mustache from a silent film. I’m half-expecting you to tie me to train tracks next.”

Logan huffed and stretched his legs. “What do you want me to do? Cut it?”

“Yes! Just… trim it. Before it starts forming opinions and voting in elections.”

“Good one,” he muttered, still flipping through the channels. “But nah. I like it.”

You knew this was going to be harder than you thought. This wasn’t a normal beard. This was Logan’s pride. His stupid, stubborn pride wrapped around his jaw like a fuzzy security blanket. You didn’t have claws or mutant powers, but damn it, you had scissors. And a dream.

Later that evening, you were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, practicing your technique. You held up the scissors and snipped the air a few times. Yeah, you had this. Stealth, precision, quick reflexes—you’d get him in his sleep.

You glanced down at the pair of dull scissors in your hand, suddenly wondering if maybe this wasn’t the smartest plan. Those things couldn’t cut through paper, let alone Logan’s adamantium-grade beard.

“Whatcha doin’ in there?” Logan’s voice echoed from the living room, suspicious.

“Uh, nothing!” You quickly shoved the scissors into the drawer and tried to look innocent. “Just, uh, brushing my teeth.”

“Mmhmm.” He didn’t believe you for a second.

That night, you waited. Logan fell asleep on the couch, a beer bottle balanced on his chest. You crept up, scissors in hand, moving like a ninja. The beard was right there—so close. One good snip, and you could at least tame that beast.

But the moment the scissors touched one hair, Logan’s hand shot out, catching your wrist. His eyes opened lazily. “What the hell do you think you’re doin’, darlin’?”

You froze, caught red-handed. “Um… grooming?”

Logan sat up, still holding your wrist with that annoyingly strong grip. “We talkin’ dog grooming or attempted murder?”

You sighed, defeated. “Logan, c’mon. It’s gotta go.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the hell out of this. “You really think you can take this thing down with those weak-ass scissors? Good luck, babe.”

You pouted, yanking your wrist free. “You can’t live like this forever. You look like a damn mountain man.”

“That’s the point.”

“What, you gonna move to the woods and start living off the land?”

Logan chuckled, getting up from the couch. “Might not be such a bad idea. Get away from all this.” He waved a hand around like civilization was an inconvenience he had to endure.

“Okay, Thoreau,” you muttered, “but can we at least compromise? A little trim? Just a bit so you don’t look like a cryptid?”

Logan thought about it for a second, rubbing his chin. “Alright. You get one inch. One. Any more, and you’re losin’ a hand.”

You blinked. “That’s not exactly what I meant by compromise, but I’ll take it.”

The next morning, Logan sat in the kitchen, grudgingly handing you a pair of sharper scissors. “Make it quick.”

You grinned like you’d won the lottery. “I promise it’ll be painless.”

“You better hope so.”

You gingerly reached for the beard, Logan’s eyes watching you like a hawk. The tension was thick—one wrong move, and you knew it’d be war.

Snip. You took off just enough to make a difference, but not enough to piss him off. He grunted but didn’t complain. Snip, snip. A couple more careful cuts, and you stepped back, admiring your handiwork.

Logan rubbed his chin, inspecting it in the mirror. “Not bad.”

“See? Didn’t kill you.”

“Yet.”

You laughed, putting the scissors down. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Logan stood up, stretching. “Maybe. But at least now I won’t get mistaken for Bigfoot at the grocery store.”

You smirked. “Who knew the Wolverine could be such a drama queen about a beard?”

He growled, but this time, you could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t push it, babe. Next time you come near me with those scissors, you might lose an eye.”

“Noted.” You gave him a playful wink. “But seriously, thanks for not letting it grow legs and walk off on its own.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, grabbing his jacket. “Now let’s get outta here before you try to cut somethin’ else.”

As he headed for the door, you couldn’t resist one last comment. “Don’t worry, the hair on your head is next.”

Logan shot you a look over his shoulder. “Don’t. Even. Think about it.”

Hug Of Death

Summary: Logan’s always careful with his hugs, but after a night of too many drinks, he accidentally snikts his claws mid-hug. Now you’re trying to explain to ER staff why your boyfriend almost impaled you.

Pairing            : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Girlfriend!Human-reader Genre             : Fluff

It started out like any other Friday night—Logan dragging your ass to the local dive bar, his usual grumpy self trying to act all relaxed, and you sipping on whiskey, wondering how the hell you ended up dating a literal superhero with zero social skills and an endless supply of rage. But, y’know, you loved the guy, claws and all.

You’d both had a few drinks. Okay, way more than a few. The funny thing about Logan? That damn healing factor usually makes it impossible for him to get drunk. But tonight, well, something must've clicked because he was tipsy. And when Logan gets tipsy, he gets affectionate. He kept slinging his arm over you, pulling you in close, slurring something about how you were “the best thing that ever happened to him, babe,” and you were half-laughing, half-trying not to get crushed by his overenthusiastic affection.

“Babe, you’re crushin' me,” you gasp, wriggling under his weight as he leans in a little too close.

Logan grins, all teeth and stubble, his breath reeking of whiskey. “Aww, c’mon, honey. I ain’t crushin’ ya, just showin’ ya some love.”

You roll your eyes, trying to push him back a bit. “Yeah, Wolverine-level love. You forget you’re made of, I dunno, indestructible metal?”

“Pfft.” He waves it off like it’s no big deal, taking another swig from his bottle. “Details.”

Hours later, after countless beers, shots, and some weird drink the bartender insisted on calling “The Sabretooth Slammer,” you’re both stumbling back to your apartment. Logan’s got his arm draped over your shoulders like he’s forgotten how to use his own legs, and you’re doing your best not to let him drag you to the ground.

“You good, babe?” you ask, trying not to laugh as he trips over a crack in the sidewalk, stumbling like a massive, drunk toddler. “Logan, you’re about to face-plant on the pavement.”

“‘Course I’m good, darlin’,” he mumbles, flashing you a goofy grin. “I’m always good.”

You barely make it inside, but Logan, being the overly affectionate and entirely too drunk man that he is, decides it’s the perfect time to give you a hug. Not just any hug, mind you—this is a full-on, bear hug.

“Logan, easy—” you start, but it’s too late. He’s already wrapped you up in his arms, squeezing you like he’s afraid you might evaporate if he lets go.

“Love ya, babe,” he slurs, nuzzling his scruffy face into your hair. “So much.”

It’s actually kinda sweet...until you feel it.

SNIKT

“Oh, shit—Logan!” You yelp, pushing against his chest. “Your claws!”

Logan blinks, confused, as his adamantium claws slide out with that signature metallic sound. He’s still got you wrapped up in his arms, which is really not ideal when he’s packing literal knives in his hands.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, glancing down at the claws sticking out dangerously close to your side. “Babe, I... I didn’t mean to!”

You wiggle out of his grasp, holding up your shirt to check for any damage. A thin scratch, nothing serious, but you shoot him a look. “Logan, you almost impaled me!”

Logan stumbles backward, looking down at his hands in horror. “Goddammit, I—too much affection, huh?”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. “Too much booze, babe. Too much booze.”

Cut to the ER. You’re sitting on one of those paper-lined beds while a nurse wraps a bandage around your torso, trying to keep a straight face as Logan awkwardly shifts in the chair next to you. He’s still not sober, by the way, and is doing his best to stay quiet. Not his strong suit.

“So, let me get this straight,” the nurse says, biting back a smile. “Your boyfriend... accidentally scratched you. With his... claws?”

You shoot Logan a sideways glance. He’s sitting there, his arms crossed, looking like a kid who got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner. “Yeah,” you say, trying to sound casual. “It happens.”

Logan, still drunk, mutters, “I just love too damn hard.”

The nurse stifles a laugh. “Right. Well, just be careful with those claws next time, okay?”

Logan groans, running a hand through his hair. “Ain’t gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Oh, absolutely not,” you grin, wincing as the bandage tightens. “This is gonna be a running joke for the next, like, decade. At least.”

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re really gonna milk this, huh?”

“Damn right I am, darling,” you laugh, leaning over to peck his cheek, which, honestly, just makes him blush even harder. “Let’s get out of here before they start charging us extra for the ‘superhero boyfriend’ drama.”

Logan chuckles softly, getting up from his chair to help you up. “Babe, next time... no drinks. Just, I dunno, Netflix or somethin’.”

You smirk. “Yeah, and maybe a hug that won’t send me to the ER?”

Logan pulls you in, carefully this time, planting a soft kiss on your temple. “No promises, but I’ll try.”

Swipe Right, Bub

Summary: Logan’s usually tough persona crumbles when he gets nervous before your Tinder date, and it’s clear he has no idea how dating apps work.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Genre              : Fluff

Logan wasn’t sure how the hell he ended up here. Sitting at a bar, staring at his phone like it was about to explode, waiting for a Tinder date. Tinder. He hated that damn app. The whole swiping thing made him feel like an idiot. And the fact he’d even gotten matched? Probably a glitch.

But here he was, in a flannel that was definitely not “date night material” and boots that still had a bit of mud on them. Real smooth.

When the door swung open, you stepped in, scanning the room for him. Logan straightened up like he’d just been caught doing something illegal, but when your eyes landed on him, you smiled. Shit, he thought, she’s way outta my league. You were looking real nice—too nice for someone like him who smelled like cigars and had seen more fights than anyone should in ten lifetimes.

You waved, walking over, and Logan fought the urge to bolt out of the bar. This was stupid. He wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing.

“Hey, Logan, right?” you asked, sliding onto the stool next to him.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” he muttered, already fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the room.

The awkward silence stretched for a beat, and Logan could feel the sweat gathering under his collar. You looked way too comfortable, like you were doing this for fun while he was sitting there trying not to screw up everything.

“First Tinder date?” you asked, clearly amused by his discomfort.

Logan let out a low grunt. “Somethin’ like that. Ain’t exactly my thing.”

“Yeah, I kind of figured.” You grinned, leaning in a bit. “You look like the type who’d smash his phone before swiping right.”

“Almost did,” Logan admitted, running a hand through his wild hair. “Had to get the damn app downloaded twice ‘cause I broke the first phone.”

You laughed—like, full-on laughed—and Logan couldn’t help but smirk a little. At least you weren’t bored.

“So,” you started, leaning on the bar, “you’re, uh, not big on technology then?”

Logan shook his head, his fingers tapping the bar in some anxious rhythm. “Last time I trusted somethin’ mechanical, it was trying to kill me. Ain’t a fan.”

“That sounds... dramatic.”

“You’d be surprised.” He took a swig of his beer, trying to calm down the stupid fluttering in his chest. Was he… nervous? He’d fought in wars, been stabbed more times than he could count, but a simple date was making him sweat like a rookie.

You started chatting, talking about your job, your hobbies, how weird the whole dating app scene was. Logan didn’t say much, but honestly, he didn’t mind. You were easy to listen to. You weren’t pushy, not asking him a ton of questions, and it was nice.

But you noticed after a while, because of course you did. “Oh god, I’m just talking your ear off, aren’t I?” you said, looking a little embarrassed. “I haven’t even asked anything about you.”

Logan just shrugged, trying to act casual. “Don’t mind listenin’. You’re good at it.”

Shit, did that sound creepy? He cleared his throat, hoping you didn’t think he was being weird.

“You sure? I mean, you probably have way more interesting stories than I do. You seem like the type who’s lived a pretty wild life,” you teased, sipping your drink.

Logan gave a small, gruff chuckle. “Yeah, you could say that.” He didn’t exactly want to drop the “I’ve lived for over a century and fought in every war imaginable” bomb. Not the best first date conversation.

But you just smiled, completely oblivious to his internal struggle. “Well, next round, it’s your turn to talk. Fair’s fair, right?”

“Yeah… maybe,” he muttered, looking away. He wasn’t great at the whole “opening up” thing. He’d rather let you ramble about your dog or how you almost burned your apartment down trying to make pasta. That was easy stuff.

You reached out, patting his arm, and Logan stiffened like he’d just been hit with a stun gun.

“Don’t worry,” you said, with that killer smile of yours. “I’m not gonna grill you. But if you ever wanna share any of those stories, I’m all ears.”

Logan tried to play it cool, but the second you touched his arm, his brain short-circuited. Smooth, real smooth, he thought, glaring at his beer like it was to blame for how awkward he was being.

Just then, your phone buzzed, and you glanced down at it, frowning. “Ah, crap, sorry, work’s calling. Gotta run,” you said, standing up. Logan’s heart sank a little. The night was over, and he hadn’t even gotten a chance to not screw things up.

But then, out of nowhere, you leaned down and kissed his cheek. And just like that, the Wolverine—the guy who had metal claws and could heal from a damn nuclear bomb—blushed. Full-on, red-faced, no-way-to-hide-it blushed.

“I had a great time,” you said softly. “Maybe we can do this again?”

Logan, caught completely off guard, could barely form a coherent thought. “Uh, yeah. Sure. If you, uh, want. I mean, yeah. Definitely. Next time.”

You smiled, amused at his sudden inability to speak, and gave a little wave. “Cool. I’ll text you.”

Logan watched you leave, still sitting there, his face burning, his heart doing things it hadn’t done in decades. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as he muttered to himself, “Holy shit, she’s gonna text me.”

Second Date

continuation from this.

Summary: Logan’s nerves ease up during the second date, as he finally opens up about being a mutant, and things get hilariously sweet and chaotic.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Genre              : Fluff

You weren’t sure what to expect for the second date. After all, Logan had been… well, awkward as hell the first time. He was cute, sure, but the guy seemed more comfortable punching bad guys than sitting at a bar chatting about work. But still, here you were, standing outside the dessert shop he picked for tonight.

Through the window, you spotted him in his signature flannel, boots still a little muddy—classic Logan. When he saw you, he stood up like a soldier ready for duty. Adorable.

“Hey, babe,” Logan greeted you, catching you off guard. Babe? Really? Since when did he start calling you that?

You blinked, trying not to laugh. “Babe, huh? We're moving fast.”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly not used to the nickname either. “Yeah, uh... figured I’d try it out. Sounded better in my head.”

You smirked. “Nah, it’s cute. Keep it up.”

The place was cozy, full of pastel-colored walls and a dessert counter that looked like it was out of a Pinterest board. Logan looked hilariously out of place—like a bear in a cupcake shop—but you found it charming.

“So, you brought me to a dessert place?” you teased as you sat down.

Logan shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “Figured you'd like it. Plus, beer and wings weren’t exactly a hit last time.”

You grinned. “True. But this is nice. Besides, who doesn’t like sugar?”

Logan cracked a small smile, still fidgeting like he didn’t know where to put his hands. The waitress came by, and you both ordered a ridiculous-looking dessert platter. But Logan stayed quiet for a minute, clearly holding something back.

Finally, after he stabbed his fork into a cupcake, he blurted, “I gotta tell you somethin’.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Sounds serious.”

“I’m, uh... kinda not like most people.” He paused, looking at you for a reaction, but you just nodded. “I’m a mutant.”

You blinked. “Oh. Is that it?”

Logan stared at you like you'd just told him Santa was real. “What d’ya mean, ‘is that it’? I’m practically a walking science experiment! Claws, healing powers, and I’ve lived through more wars than I care to count!”

You sipped your drink and smiled. “Logan, c'mon. Mutants aren’t exactly rare. You know that, right? Everyone’s cool with it now.”

Logan’s face softened, clearly relieved. “Shit. You’re serious?”

You nodded. “Yeah, babe. It's all good. Besides, claws are kinda hot.”

He nearly choked on his cupcake. “Claws are hot?”

You leaned in, grinning. “What else you got?”

Logan finally relaxed, a real smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I can heal pretty quick. Like, faster than you’d believe.”

“Useful in case you fall during the ice skating part of tonight, huh?”

Logan frowned, confused. “Ice skatin’? I don’t—” He trailed off when you pointed at the rink just across the street. “You serious? I’ll look like an idiot.”

“You’ll be fine. Besides, I’m clumsy as hell. You’ll just have to catch me.”

Logan’s expression softened at that, his usual gruffness fading a bit. “Yeah, alright. But if you fall, I’m draggin’ you outta there.”

Half an hour later, you were wobbling on the ice, while Logan, surprisingly stable, kept pace beside you. Turns out super healing makes for decent balance.

“I told you I’d suck at this!” you laughed, nearly toppling over for the third time.

Logan caught your arm, pulling you upright with a grin. “You weren’t lyin’, babe. You’re like a baby deer out here.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, barely keeping your feet under you.

You slipped—again—and this time, Logan yanked you into him, his arms catching you just in time. For a second, you both just stood there, inches apart, his breath warm against your cheek. Logan looked down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “You’re a menace on ice, you know that?”

Before you could snap back, he reached out, lightly pinching your cheek. “But you’re cute as hell, so I guess I can deal.”

Your heart did a little flip. Logan? Pinching cheeks and calling you cute? Who was this guy?

“Y’know, you’re not as grumpy as you pretend to be,” you teased, nudging him.

Logan just grunted, looking away. “Don’t get used to it.”

You chuckled. “Too late, babe.”

The night went on like that—little moments of clumsy skating and playful jabs, Logan more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. By the time you both sat down on a bench outside, you were still laughing about how you’d nearly taken him down with you on the ice.

“Alright, you win,” he said, wiping his brow. “Maybe ice skatin’ ain’t so bad.”

“Maybe?” you raised an eyebrow. “I think you had fun.”

Logan smirked, leaning back. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

Then, before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you—soft at first, but with enough heat to make your stomach flip. And when he pulled back, his eyes had that same mischievous glint from earlier.

“Round three?” he muttered against your lips.

You laughed, cheeks burning. “You’re on, babe.”

Claw Machine Master

Summary: Logan becomes obsessed with winning you a prize at the claw machine, but after burning through a hundred bucks and failing miserably, he uses his actual claws to grab the toy, setting off alarms. “Babe, I won, now run!”

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Gf!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff

You and Logan stroll through the arcade, the air buzzing with the sounds of laughter, beeping machines, and the smell of buttery popcorn. It’s one of those rare days where he’s not off saving the world or being a total grump. Instead, he’s decided to channel his inner child, and honestly, it’s hilarious watching this grizzly mutant navigate through a world of flashing lights and pastel-colored prizes.

“Hey, babe, check it out!” he shouts, pointing dramatically at a claw machine that’s blaring “Pick Me! Pick Me!” like a desperate kid at a birthday party. Inside, you see a plush unicorn, all sparkly and cute. It’s practically begging to be won.

“Logan, don’t,” you warn, laughing. “Remember the last time you tried to win me something? You ended up breaking the machine.”

“Yeah, but that was a fluke! This time will be different,” he insists, all pumped up and ready to go. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, and you know that if he goes in, he’s gonna give it everything he’s got.

“Alright, but I’m standing back. I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime,” you tease.

He throws you a playful glare. “Pfft. How hard can it be? It’s just a claw.”

He approaches the machine like it’s a life-or-death situation. The little screen flashes “Insert Coins,” and Logan pops in a couple of bucks like he’s preparing for war. He adjusts his stance, rolling his shoulders back as if he’s about to take on a Sentinal. You stifle a laugh, taking a step back to observe.

“Alright, watch and learn, honey,” he says, smirking at you. “Claw Machine Master at work.”

The first attempt? A total flop. The claw barely grazes the unicorn before plummeting back down like a rock. Logan’s jaw tightens, his competitive side kicking in. “Okay, that was a warm-up. Just getting the feel for it.”

“Sure, let’s call it that,” you giggle, arms crossed, enjoying the show.

After another few rounds—and about fifty bucks later—he’s starting to get frustrated. “This damn thing is rigged! I swear it’s cheating!” he growls, glaring at the machine as if it just insulted him.

“Or maybe you just suck at claw machines,” you quip. “You’re a master at literally everything else, Logan, but this? Not so much.”

He throws you a playful glare. “Alright, smartass, you think you can do better? Get in there and try!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Nah, I’ll let you have this one. It’s more fun watching you lose your mind over a stuffed toy.”

With a snort, he rolls his eyes and goes back for another attempt. After burning through more cash, it’s clear that this unicorn is tougher than any enemy he’s faced. “Babe, I’m gonna win you this prize if it kills me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t! I don’t want you to end up in the emergency room because of a stuffed animal!”

Finally, he steps back, looking completely defeated. You can practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “This isn’t over!” he declares, his voice rising like a battle cry. “I’ll get that unicorn if it’s the last thing I do.”

Suddenly, you see that wicked spark in his eye, the one that usually means he’s concocting something insane. “What are you thinking?” you ask, half-excited and half-terrified.

“Watch this,” he smirks, and before you can even process what’s happening, he unsheathes his claws, slicing through the air with a snikt that makes everyone turn to stare.

“Logan, no! Don’t you dare!” you shout, but it’s too late. He lunges at the claw machine and, with surgical precision, he reaches into the glass case.

“Babe, I won! Now run!” he yells, grabbing the unicorn as the machine starts blaring alarms like it’s the end of the world.

You grab his arm, yanking him away from the scene of chaos. “You crazy son of a—let’s get out of here!”

Logan, still holding the plush toy like a trophy, bursts out laughing, running like a madman with you right beside him. “I can’t believe I just did that! I’m like the Robin Hood of claw machines!”

“More like the criminal of claw machines!” you shout, laughing uncontrollably as you dart through the arcade, dodging other players and workers who are now chasing after you both.

As you reach the exit, Logan pulls you into a side alley, still holding the unicorn like a proud parent. “That was wild! Did you see their faces?”

You’re breathless, still giggling as you lean against the wall. “You just committed arcade robbery! And for a stuffed toy!”

He shrugs, grinning widely. “It’s worth it for you, babe. Plus, look at this thing! It’s adorable!”

“Logan, I love it, but next time, maybe let’s just buy a keychain?” you suggest, still trying to catch your breath.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughs, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close. “Next adventure, babe. We’ll get matching unicorns or something.”

James 'Logan' Howlett (The Wolverine)

One-Shots

Series

MASTERLIST

James 'Logan' Howlett (Wolverine)

Series

FADING BONDS

Summary: Two broken souls—Logan, an aging hero, and a young woman overlooked by her own family—find solace in each other’s silent company, forming an unexpected connection that challenges their emotional walls.

Pairing            : OldMutant!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Genre              : Fluff, Angst  

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5:The Final)

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

FADED DAYS

Summary: In a bleak world where Logan has lost his purpose, an unexpected connection with his nurse brings a spark of humor and humanity back into his fading life as an Uber driver.

Pairing            : OldMutant!Logan Howlett x Nurse!Fem-reader Genre              : Heavy Angst

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7:The Final)

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

GHOST

Summary: Logan seeks solitude in the mountains, haunted by his thoughts of Jean and their future, but a sudden scent drags him back to memories he thought he'd buried — you.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Ex-girlfriend!Human-reader Genre              : Angst, Fluff

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7: The Final)

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

Babe, You Got This

Summary: Logan might have faced wars, claws, and immortal enemies, but nothing prepared him for his wife going into labor.

Pairing            : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff

You’re lying in bed, feeling the occasional twinge in your belly when it hits you like a freight train: Oh shit. Your water just broke.

“LOGAN!” you yell, holding your breath because, damn, this really hurts.

From the kitchen, you hear a clattering of pots. Logan comes bursting through the door, spatula still in hand. “What? What?! What happened?! Is it—oh hell. Oh hell, darlin’, you good?”

You clutch your belly, sweat already dripping down your face, but for some reason, you’re the calm one here. “Yeah, babe, it’s happening. Baby time.” You manage a half-grin through the pain.

Logan, on the other hand, is losing it. “SHIT. Okay, okay, lemme grab the—wait—no, wait, do we have a hospital bag? Where’s the car keys? Where the hell are my pants?!” He’s pacing now, full-on panic mode, mumbling to himself about “damn doctors” and “how the hell did this happen.”

You just sit there, biting your lip, trying not to laugh because watching the big, bad Wolverine freak out is kind of hilarious. “Logan, babe, breathe. Just get me to the car. We’re fine.”

He’s running in and out of the room, still holding that damn spatula, and when he finally finds the car keys, he throws the spatula behind him like it’s a grenade. “Okay, okay, darlin’, we’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna—DAMMIT, I SHOULD’VE BEEN THE ONE PREGNANT!”

You blink. “Uh, what?”

Logan’s face is pure desperation. “I mean it! Shoulda been me. You don’t deserve this, I do! You’re too young for this shit. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this pain. I—dammit! Why can’t I be the one carrying the damn baby?!”

At this point, you’re wheezing, both from pain and Logan’s completely ridiculous freak-out. “Babe, that’s… not how it works.”

But he’s already on another train of thought, trying to hoist you out of bed with a mix of adrenaline and sheer terror. “Screw biology. I heal fast! I could’ve popped this kid out in, like, two hours tops! No pain! Why’d I go and knock you up? What the hell’s wrong with me? I’m a monster!”

You giggle in spite of yourself, even as a contraction tightens your entire body. “Babe, stop. I’m fine. Let’s just… go.”

Logan’s still mumbling apologies as he half-drags, half-carries you to the car. When he finally gets behind the wheel, the dude’s sweating more than you are. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and he’s muttering something about “never gonna let you get pregnant again” and “damn doctors better not mess this up.”

He glances at you. “You okay, sweetheart? I mean—fuck—this is my fault. You’re—dammit, I’m sorry, babe.”

“Logan, chill. Focus on driving.”

The next five minutes are pure chaos. Logan speeds through red lights, honking at random pedestrians, cursing every car in his way. “GET THE FUCK OUTTA THE ROAD! I GOT A PREGNANT LADY HERE, MOVE YOUR ASSES!”

You try to calm him down, but honestly, the sight of him panicking over your labor is too good. He’s shouting at no one, eyes darting between the road and you. And then, out of nowhere, the tough guy starts tearing up. Full-on tears.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I never wanted you to hurt. I should’ve… I should’ve done somethin’. Maybe I coulda—oh, goddammit, why couldn’t I carry the kid?”

You laugh, despite the pain. “You? Pregnant? Can you imagine?”

“Don’t even joke about that!” he barks, but there’s a hint of something in his voice—like maybe he actually wishes he could.

When you finally get to the hospital, Logan’s a sweaty mess, practically carrying you through the doors while yelling for help. “HEY! HEY! My wife’s havin’ a baby! Somebody help her!”

The doctors rush you into a room, and suddenly it’s all systems go. Except… Logan doesn’t look so good. He’s pale, eyes wide, muttering something like, “I can’t believe I did this to her,” and—yep, he’s down. He collapses into a chair, one hand clutching his chest like he’s just been shot.

“Logan? Logan!” you call, but he’s already half-unconscious, mumbling apologies.

A nurse rushes over to him, placing an oxygen mask on his face while he’s laying on a hospital bed right beside yours. “We’re gonna take care of him,” she assures you.

For the next twenty minutes, it’s you, the labor pains, and Logan passed out next to you. Every once in a while, he mutters something from his semi-conscious state. “Should’ve… been me. So sorry, babe…”

When it’s finally time to push, Logan snaps awake like he’s missed the most important game of his life. “NO! I’m here! I’m here, darlin’!”

The doctor gives him a side-eye, trying to keep him calm. “Sir, are you sure you want to be in here? You’re not lookin’ too—”

“I’M STAYIN’. NO WAY IN HELL AM I LEAVIN’ HER SIDE.”

He grips your hand, tears streaming down his face. You can barely concentrate through the pain, but you manage to laugh when he whispers, “I’m so sorry, babe. I should’ve been the one. You’re too good for this.”

And then, the baby’s out. Logan’s crying—like, ugly sobbing. “He’s beautiful, darlin’. Oh god, he’s beautiful. Oh God… he’s so damn perfect.”

And then, because the universe has a twisted sense of humor, Logan’s eyes roll back, and he drops like a brick, passing out cold on the hospital floor.

The doctor sighs. “Well, there he goes.”

You laugh softly, exhausted but deliriously happy, as they haul Logan onto the bed next to yours, leaving you to marvel at both your baby and your overly dramatic, ridiculously tough husband, who fainted at the sight of his son.

Babe, Relax!

continuation from this.

Summary: Logan transforms from the tough Wolverine to an overprotective dad, freaking out over every little cough from the baby while you can’t help but laugh at his ridiculous antics as he tries (and fails) to hide his panic.

Pairing             : Mutant!Logan Howlett x Wife!Human-reader Genre              : Fluff

The first week at home with your little miracle has been a whirlwind of sleepless nights and endless diaper changes. As you sit on the couch, cradling the baby in your arms, you can’t help but laugh at Logan’s over-the-top antics. He’s pacing the living room like a caged animal, a mix of worry and pride etched across his rugged face.

“Babe, you gotta make sure he’s breathing, right?” Logan says, peering over your shoulder like he’s about to interrogate the kid. “Like, he’s not gonna stop breathing when I’m not lookin’, right? You know these little guys—” he gestures dramatically, “they’re sneaky!”

You can’t help but giggle, rocking the baby gently. “Logan, he’s not a ninja. He’s just a baby. Chill, will ya? He’s fine.”

Logan crosses his arms, his brow furrowing like he’s contemplating a life-or-death situation. “Yeah, but what if he goes all ‘sleep mode’ and forgets to breathe? You never know. I don’t trust these tiny humans.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your heart makes it hard to keep a straight face. “I promise you, sweetheart, he knows how to breathe. Just like you know how to stop being a drama queen.”

He huffs, tapping his foot. “Hey! I’m a very composed dude. Besides, I’m just looking out for our kid. You know, I’ve faced bad guys and wars and shit, but this? This is different. This is my baby.”

You can’t help but smile at the fierce protector he’s turned into. “You’re a badass, babe. But you’re not going to battle. Just be the dad you are. Trust me; you’re doing great.”

Logan relaxes a bit, leaning against the wall and trying to look nonchalant, but you see his eyes darting back to the baby. “You sure? I mean, you saw how I fainted in the hospital. I can’t go down like that again. Imagine if I passed out right here while holding him! The kid would have to save me!”

You chuckle. “Oh yeah, the baby would just pop out with claws and start yelling ‘Dad, get up!’”

Logan grins, relaxing a little more. “You think he’ll be a mutant? Because if he is, I’m gonna train him in the backyard, no rules.”

“Yeah, because that’s exactly what a baby needs—sword fights in the backyard.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “Can we just enjoy this moment without any ‘Wolverine 2.0’ training sessions? Let him crawl first, babe.”

“Alright, fine. No backyard training... yet,” he says, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes. “But I’m not givin’ up on him learning to be a badass. He’s my kid, after all.”

You shift the baby a little, adjusting the blanket around him, and Logan’s gaze softens. “Look at him, though. He’s perfect. I mean, he’s got my chin, right?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “You mean the chin that looks like it’s been through a few bar fights? Yeah, he’s got that.”

Logan smirks, pointing a finger at you. “And you’re sayin’ he got that from me? At least I’ve got the claws to back it up!”

“Sure, Logan, sure. Just be careful not to scare the baby with your ‘fierce’ face,” you tease, leaning in for a kiss. His lips brush against yours, softening the tension in the room.

Logan’s expression turns serious again. “But really, babe, if anything happens, just tell me, okay? I can’t have you or him in danger.”

You nod, your heart swelling. “I know, Logan. But we’re both fine. Just enjoy being a dad.”

He scratches his head, glancing between you and the baby. “I just wish I knew what I was doin’. What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Are you kidding? He’s going to think you’re the coolest dad ever,” you assure him, gesturing toward the tiny boy. “Look at you! He’s gonna grow up hearing all your stories about clawing through bad guys and saving the day.”

Logan chuckles softly. “Yeah, and I’ll make sure to throw in some ‘don’t be a jerk’ life lessons.”

The baby lets out a soft coo, and Logan’s expression melts, his face lighting up. “Did you hear that? He’s talking to me! He gets it!”

You lean back, enjoying the sight of Logan falling deeper for your little boy. “He totally does, babe. He’s a smart one.”

Logan takes a step closer, bending down to get a better look. “You’re gonna be a tough little dude, right? No cryin’ allowed. You hear me?”

You stifle a laugh, loving every minute of Logan’s daddy antics. “Yeah, Logan, because that’s how babies work. Just wait until he starts screaming at three in the morning. You’ll be singing a different tune.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “Hey, I can handle anything—except you screaming at me.”

With a smirk, you throw a pillow at him. “Good luck with that!”

As Logan catches the pillow, a thought crosses your mind. You reach out to hold his hand. “Hey, thanks for being you, you know? I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side.”

Logan squeezes your hand, a softness in his eyes. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to share this craziness with. Just you and our little one. We got this, darlin’.”

“Damn right we do. Now, how about you go grab a snack while I keep an eye on the baby?”

He stands up, smirking. “You just wanna keep me away from him so I don’t freak out.”

“Exactly,” you tease, “You can only check on him every five minutes, Mr. Overprotective!”

Logan shakes his head with a laugh. “Fine, but you better let me know if anything goes south. You know I can’t handle it.”

You wave him off as he heads to the kitchen, and you can’t help but smile. This is your new normal, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The love, the laughter, the gentle chaos—it’s all worth it.

As you glance down at the baby, you know one thing for sure: your little family is about to have one hell of an adventure.

Driver's Seat

Summary: With no cash to pay your Uber driver, Logan, you boldly offer a blowjob instead.

Pairing            : Uber-driver!Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Note              : smut, blowjob

The city lights flashed by as the Uber rolled down the streets, the low rumble of the engine mingling with the late-night tunes spilling from the speakers. You were sinking into the plush leather seat, a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through you after a wild night out. You glanced over at the driver, Logan, his rugged silhouette framed by the glow of the dashboard. His grey, tousled hair and scruff hinted at a man who had seen it all, a hint of mischief lurking behind those intense blue eyes.

You pulled out your wallet, ready to settle up, but a sinking feeling hit you hard. You flipped through the empty slots, fingers trembling slightly. “Shit,” you muttered, realizing your cash was nowhere to be found. The only thing left was a couple of crumpled receipts. Panic bubbled up inside you, and you bit your lip, glancing up at Logan.

“Uh, so… about the fare…” you started, your cheeks heating up.

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that oh-so-sarcastic way of his. “You forgot your cash, huh? Classic move.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Yeah, well, I had a little too much fun tonight. I wasn’t exactly planning to be broke. Sir.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling, sending a shiver down your spine. “Welcome to my world, doll. So what now? You gonna sit there and look cute while I take you home for free?”

The playful glint in his eye made your heart race, and a sudden, crazy idea popped into your head. It was reckless and wild, but what the hell. You leaned forward, a smirk creeping onto your lips. “What if I have a different way to pay you?”

Logan turned to you, a mixture of amusement and intrigue flickering in his gaze. “I’m listening.”

With a deep breath, you decided to throw caution to the wind. “How about… a little favor? Something a bit more… intimate?”

His expression shifted, a low growl escaping his throat as he pulled the car over to the side of the road, the sudden halt making your heart race even faster. You could feel the air thickening with tension, every second stretching out as you met his gaze.

“Intimate, huh? You sure you can handle that?” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his muscular chest, and the way he looked at you sent a wave of heat through your body.

“Oh, I think I can manage,” you replied, your voice sultry and daring. You leaned closer, the scent of leather and something distinctly Logan—woodsy, musky—invading your senses.

He didn’t move, just watched you, his blue eyes darkening with a mixture of interest and something deeper, something primal.

“Okay, then. Let’s see what you got”, while he shifted to the backseat.

With the adrenaline pumping, the car suddenly feeling way too small as you settled in close to him. “Sir, I promise you won’t regret this,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Damn straight I won’t,” he replied, his tone low and gravelly, making your skin tingle.

You felt your heart pounding, the tension sizzling between you. Slowly, you let your fingers trail down his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The fabric of his shirt felt rough against your fingertips, and the muscles beneath were solid and inviting. Logan’s breath hitched, and you could see his restraint slipping away, the predatory glint in his eyes igniting a fire in your belly.

“Now, I want you to take your time,” he said, his voice a growl that sent shivers down your spine. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Leaning in closer, you could see the flecks of his thick grey hair, the way his grey stubble caught the light. You ran your fingers through his grey hair, feeling the rough texture.

As you lowered your lips to his neck, you could taste the salty taste of his skin, a mix of sweat and something distinctly him. He inhaled sharply, a low rumble of pleasure escaping him. “Goddamn, that feels good,” he muttered, his hands gripping your waist as if holding onto a lifeline.

“Just wait,” you replied, your breath hot against his skin. You kissed your way down to his collarbone, each press of your lips making him tense and moan softly, that sound driving you wild. You could feel him responding to you, the way his body was coiling with anticipation.

“Damn, you really are somethin’ else,” he breathed, a hint of awe in his voice that made you smile.

“Yeah? Just wait till you see what else I can do,” you teased, your hands roaming over his muscular arms, the power underneath making your heart race even faster.

With a swift motion, you slid down, kneeling between his legs. Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you looked up at him, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers through your body. You could see the wildness in his eyes, a hunger that mirrored your own.

A low growl rumbling in his chest as you slowly reached for the zipper of his black pants, teasingly pulling it down. You could see the tension coiling in him, his muscles tightening, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the power you held in this moment.

As you revealed him, the sight made your mouth water. Logan was everything you had imagined—a lot of grey hair on his balls, his tip red, thick, hard, and ready for you. You leaned in closer, the scent of him overwhelming your senses. You could taste the salt on your lips, and it drove you wild with desire.

“Damn,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “You really know how to get a guy’s attention.”

“Just wait,” you teased again, taking your time as you let your tongue flick out to taste him, feeling his sharp intake of breath. He was salty, a flavor that was uniquely him, and you couldn’t get enough.

The heat radiating from his body making you feel alive.

“Don’t waste it,” he urged, his voice thick with lust.

With a wicked grin, you dove in deeper, your mouth enveloping him, swirling your tongue around his tip and savoring every moment. Logan’s hands tangled in your hair, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided you, urging you on. The sounds he made were music to your ears, a deep growl of pleasure that reverberated in your bones, fueling your desire.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Keep going.”

You could feel his body responding to you, the way his hips bucked slightly, seeking more, his grey hair brush your face, his balls slapping your face. The world outside faded away as you focused on him, every flick of your tongue drawing more of those delicious sounds from him.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he groaned, and the compliment sent a rush of pride through you. You could feel him tightening, his breathing growing erratic, and you knew he was close.

“God, I’m gonna lose it if you keep that up,” he warned, his voice gravelly and deep. “You might wanna pull back a bit.”

“Not a chance,” you replied with a smirk, leaning in again. You swirled your tongue around him, feeling his body react beneath your touch. Every sound he made, every involuntary twitch of his muscles, only pushed you further into this delicious frenzy of desire.

“Fuck,” he growled, the tension in the air becoming almost unbearable. You could feel him getting closer, and the thrill of knowing you had him right where you wanted only fueled your own hunger.

His hands tightened in your hair, a low warning rumbling from his chest. “You keep that up, I’m gonna—” His words cut off as you took him deeper, your mouth moving faster, and the sound of his breathy gasps filled the car.

You could see the struggle on his face, the way he was fighting against the edge, but you weren’t having any of it. You wanted him to lose control.

The way his hips instinctively moved against your mouth told you he was more than ready to give in. You pulled back just enough to tease him, your lips just barely grazing the tip of him as you looked up into his eyes.

He cursed under his breath, the sound raw and hungry. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back, the playful challenge hanging in the air.

“Hell yeah, I do,” he admitted, his voice rough, eyes burning with desire. “You’re a damn goddess.”

With that, you dove back in, taking him fully into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks, swirling your tongue around him as you felt him hit the back of your throat. Logan’s body went taut, every muscle coiling with tension as he groaned loudly, and the sound sent a thrill through you.

“Fuck, yes,” he gasped, and you could feel his breathing quickening, every thrust of his hips urging you on.

With a fierce growl, he finally surrendered, his body arching as he released himself deep into your mouth. You felt the warmth of him filling you, the salty taste overwhelming your senses as you drank him down, every pulse sending shockwaves through your body.

“Damn, that’s it,” he panted, his voice raw and heavy with pleasure. “You’re incredible.”

As the last waves of pleasure coursed through him, you slowly pulled back, savoring the taste and feeling a rush of triumph wash over you. Logan looked down at you, eyes dark with satisfaction, the tension finally breaking as he leaned back against the seat, chest heaving.

“Who knew you could be such a badass?” he said, a hint of admiration lacing his tone.

You laughed softly, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “What can I say? I’ve got a knack for making payments.”

He shook his head, a smirk spreading across his lips. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

Public Heat

Summary: Logan’s wild side takes over as he fucks you onto the balcony.

Pairing            : Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Note               : exhibitionism sex, smut

The cool night air hit your skin, but the heat between you and Logan was enough to set the whole city on fire. You barely had time to think before you were pushed up against the railing of your balcony, Logan’s rough hands already pulling at your clothes, his growl rumbling through the darkness.

“Logan, we’re—” you started, glancing down at the street below, the lights of the city glowing, people walking by completely unaware of what was about to happen. But Logan didn’t care. He wasn’t the type to give a damn about who could see or who might hear. In fact, the thought of it seemed to turn him on more.

“You worried about a little audience, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, his voice dripping with that familiar roughness that always sent a shiver down your spine. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around until your chest was pressed against the cold metal railing. The city was spread out below you like a playground, and here you were, at the mercy of this feral man.

Before you could say anything, Logan’s hands were on you again, tugging at your pants, rough and impatient, and you couldn’t help but moan as he peeled them down. The cool night air hit your exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat burning inside you, but you didn’t care. Not when Logan was behind you, his body pressed so close, his breath hot against your neck.

“You’re soaked already,” he growled, his hands running over your bare ass, squeezing possessively. “You like this, huh? Knowing anyone could look up and see you get fucked by me.”

You could barely respond, your mind spinning from the intensity, but your body gave him all the answers he needed. You pushed back against him, craving more, craving everything, and Logan’s low, dirty chuckle told you that he knew exactly what you wanted.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, and before you could catch your breath, he slammed his dick into you, hard and deep. The force of it made you gasp, your hands gripping the railing for dear life as Logan started moving, not caring at all who might be watching.

The way he fucked you was wild, reckless, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, and the thought of people walking below, just a glance up and they’d see you like this, only made it hotter. Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air. You could barely think, barely breathe, the only thing you could focus on was the way he felt inside you, the way he owned every inch of your body.

“Goddamn, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” Logan growled, his voice rough with lust. His hands slid up your back, pushing your chest further against the railing, arching you even more so he could bury himself deeper, harder. “You love this, don’t you? Letting everyone see how good you take it.”

You moaned, your body shaking with the intensity of it all, and Logan’s pace only quickened, his cock slamming into you over and over, making sure you felt every inch of him. The thrill of being so exposed, knowing anyone could see, made it impossible to hold back, and you could feel your orgasm building fast, your body tightening around him.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasped, barely able to form words, but Logan wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing down. He was relentless, his hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. But that was the last thing on your mind now.

The tension in your body snapped, and you came hard, your legs trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Logan growled in satisfaction, his hips slamming into you one last time as he chased his own release. You could feel him throbbing inside you, and then, with a deep, primal grunt, he came, filling you up as he held you tight against the railing.

For a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there, bodies pressed together, both of you trying to catch your breath. The sounds of the city below seemed distant, almost unreal, as you slowly came down from the high of it all.

Logan leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckled softly. “Think anyone saw?”