Wolverine X You - Tumblr Posts

forgotten promises

pt two of broken promises (I know I'm so creative with names)

bodyguard!logan howlett x fem!runaway reader

a/n: SMUT 18+ MDNI they, like, never use protection (don't be silly, sheathe your willy) but I’d like to make it 100% clear now that she has a magic uterus and there will be absolutely NO baby-making. Just rocking unprotected sex 😎👍 If you’re tagged in this, it does not mean that I am permanently adding you to my taglist. It just means I saw you in my comments/reblogs/inbox asking for a part two and this was the easiest way to let you know I made one. If you would like to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask.  Summary: Life on the road isn't exactly glamorous. Cramped spaces and too many cheap motels have you and Logan at each other's throats. You feel eyes tracking you everywhere you go but you're afraid to tell him, afraid it will be the end of the road for the both of you. One cheap bar and an explosion later and your whole life is flipped upside down.

“What are you doing?”

You glance over Logan’s shoulder at the register. The man behind it isn’t looking at either of you, just disinterestedly scrolling through his phone. 

“Isn’t this what you do?” You ask, motioning to the pack of beef jerky you’re stuffing down your jacket. 

Logan scoffs and shakes his head. “No, kid.” He takes the bag from you and rolls his eyes. 

“Well, then how do you pay for this stuff?”

“Normally, with the money I get from my jobs. But your dad wasn’t too forthcoming with my last paycheck.”

You feel that familiar burning churn of guilt roiling around in your gut. You’ve definitely added another complication to his life and it makes you feel like nothing more than a burden sometimes. “Oh, Logan, I’m sorry.”

Logan glances down at you. He gives you that familiar appeasing look, squeezing you closer, and drags you towards the register. He tosses the snacks and drinks onto the counter. The guy just barely glances up at you both. 

“Will that be all?” He asks in a tone that says he could care less. 

“Yeah,” you answer, eyes drifting towards the magazine rack. Your face is plastered on the cover of a cheap tabloid. 

LOCAL POLITICIANS DAUGHTER STILL MISSING

Exclusive interview with family on PG. 6

Your eyes go wide and you turn your face further into Logan’s chest. He gives you a confused look before his eyes are snagged by the same thing that caught your attention. 

“Why don’t you go wait in the truck?” You nod and slip out of his hold, being mindful to keep your face away from the security camera near the front. 

That keeps happening. You hadn’t thought you would have made news, but your father was making this a part of his campaign. Claiming you’d been taken by a mutant bodyguard and that he’s been praying for your safe return. “Experts” have been claiming that with no ransom demanded you’re being turned into a message for anyone who goes against mutants. 

Now, mutants despise you and everyone else thinks you’re a martyr. In a few years, you’re sure you’ll be turned into some true crime documentary where people you’ve never met before are crying over your disappearance. 

You slide into the truck and let out a deep sigh. You’d thought running away would be freeing. But even a hundred miles from him, you can still feel the cold grip of your father’s hand around your throat. 

“Twenty on pump seven,” Logan tosses the cash on the counter, eyes drifting to you in the truck. It was instinct at this point, always keeping an eye on you. Especially since one of your father’s more fanatic supporters had spotted you in a shitty diner a week ago. They’d called the cops and tried to bar you and Logan from leaving. 

It hadn’t gone over well for him. 

He’d been trying to keep you a little more hidden since then, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. He’d gotten you out of that house to show you what real life was like, to give you a taste of freedom. 

He felt like he was no better than your father, keeping you cooped up and covered constantly. 

When the kid in front of him doesn’t say anything, Logan clears his throat. He gives him a quizzical look but the boy’s eyes are stuck on the door. 

“I swear I know her,” he mutters. Logan’s eyes drift towards the TV behind the counter and he sees an old news story of you. They’re using the footage of the acid attack, claiming you’ve always been the mutant movement’s target. 

“Can I get twenty on pump seven,” Logan repeats, voice firm. The kid finally looks at him and whatever expression Logan is wearing is enough for him to finally start moving. 

The second the receipt is in his hand he’s rushing out the door. He doesn’t know how long it’s going to take that dumbass to piece two and two together but he can’t risk dawdling. 

He fills the tank up, eyes scanning the gas station the entire time. He’s had a cloying sense of paranoia ever since the incident in the diner. He knows that at some point this little run of yours is going to come to an end. 

He doesn’t know if it’ll end with cops finding the two of you. Or if you’re going to realize the real world isn’t all that fun and leave him behind. He knows that a girl like you, one who's used to the finer things, is never going to be satisfied by the life he can offer. 

But he’s hoping that you come to your senses later rather than sooner. He’s enjoying traveling with you a lot more than he wants to admit. 

He gets in the truck, starts it up, and glances over at you. You smile, the smile that makes him feel things he doesn’t like admitting to himself or you. 

“All good?” You ask. 

He nods, driving off without a word because he doesn’t want to tell you the truth. Doesn’t want to admit what you both know to be a fact. The time you have together has an expiration date and he’s worried it’s creeping closer. 

Logan’s inside some shitty roadside motel. Whatever he’s talking about with the owner is clearly getting heated. You can see the way the anger’s growing on his face. His body is tensed up and he looks like he’s five seconds away from leaping over the counter and taking the greasy man leering at him down. 

There’s a final word exchanged between them and then Logan is storming back towards the truck. He slams the door closed so hard you’re surprised the windows don’t shatter. Normally, you sleep in the trailer. It’s not always the warmest or coziest, but you make it work. 

It’s too cold out tonight to do that and Logan doesn’t have a spare tank for the heating. He’d thought he’d had enough for a cheap room for tonight, but clearly, he doesn’t. There’s a tense silence in the truck as you mentally debate saying anything to him. 

His fists are wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel you can hear it creaking. You shift, sitting up straighter in your seat and uncurling your legs. There’s a stiffness to your joints that has you groaning. It’s involuntary, ripped out of you simply because you’ve been sitting for too long. 

It catches Logan’s attention and he glances over at you. There’s a resigned sort of guilt on his face and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. He’s used to this type of lifestyle, and sometimes you think he’s embarrassed to share it with you. 

You’d never judge him for roadside motels or living off cheap gas station meals. You know you were privileged living up with the wealth you did. But there is something infinitely more satisfying about being poor and happy than there ever was being rich and miserable.

“Look, kid,” he lets out a heavy sigh and you mentally prepare yourself for what you’ve been expecting. You were a fun time, a nice ride, but you’re becoming a burden and he can’t deal with it anymore. 

You let your nails dig into the thin skin of your palms so you can attempt to ground yourself. “I need to make some money tonight, so I just need you to bear with me for a while.”

Like there is every time he doesn’t boot you to the curb, a relieved rush of air expels from your chest almost violently.  “Okay,” you say tentatively, the word dragging out while you try and understand his meaning. 

“I just,” he stops and it looks like he’s struggling to find the words to say to you. You wait patiently for him to finish, or try to at least. “There’s a bar nearby. I’ll find some work there,” his words are ominous. They give you nothing and convey so much. 

Clearly, he’s hiding something from you. You can tell that much from the way he’s avoiding eye contact with you. He pulls out of the motel’s parking lot and turns the radio on. You’ve learned that's his way of telling you he doesn’t want to talk without being a dick about it. 

You want to respect his space because you still feel like an imposter. But it’s hard. He’s being oddly cagey about this. 

The drive is short but it feels like you’ve been transported to an entirely different town than the one you were in before. He takes only backroads and middle-class homes turn into shady shops with barbed fences. Caged dogs bark at the truck as it drives by and you get a sinking feeling in your gut. 

Perhaps it’s a little classist of you to automatically assume a few low-end homes equate to a bad neighborhood. But instinctually you know something is off about this place. 

He parks in front of a run-down bar. Even from here, you can hear loud shouts and jeering coming from inside. You don’t know what’s being said but they’re certainly passionate. Logan turns towards you, the expression on his face so serious you feel like you’re about to be scolded. 

“I need you to stay here. I won’t be gone long, just an hour at most. But you need to stay in the truck.”

Your jaw gapes and you scoff at him. “Logan, an hour that’s rid-”

He cuts you off with a stern call of your name. Your mouth snaps shut and you narrow your eyes at him, teeth gritting together to keep your tongue at bay. “Stay here, I mean it. Got it?”

You nod and he repeats your name, sounding aggrieved. “Fine,” you huff. “I got it.” He lingers for a moment. You don’t know if he doesn’t trust you or is just reluctant to leave you alone. You’re reluctant to be left alone, especially in a shady dark parking lot like this. But clearly whatever is going on inside is worse than whatever could happen to you out here. 

“I’ll be back soon,” he makes this whole thing sound so grave. It makes your brows furrow and doubt churn in your gut. What could he be doing in there that’s so awful?

He gets out and you watch his form under the flickering street lamps until you can’t see him anymore. You sit quietly in the truck for at least three minutes before you already feel the boredom set in. 

You’d thought you’d be able to last longer. You used to go for hours dissociating at your father’s galas. This is different, though. You’re a little afraid to let your guard down here. 

You try to listen to music but you feel bad wasting his gas so you just turn the truck off and huddle under a blanket in the trailer. You try and let yourself fall asleep but you don’t last long. 

It’s too cold outside to really get a good rest and you can hear people moving around outside the trailer. After about an hour of rolling around and frozen limbs, you figure enough is enough. 

As much as you don’t want to provoke Logan or give him any reason to get rid of you, you can’t stay in here all night. Besides, Logan said he wouldn’t be long, you can always just lie and say you were worried about him. 

Satisfied with your excuse you leave the comfort of your blanket behind and slip into Logan’s jacket. You tuck the truck keys in your pocket and walk out into the snowy night. It’s less cold outside than it was in the trailer, you can see why he wanted a motel room for the night. 

A few people linger by the cars, smoking and muttering to themselves. You slip past them, ignoring the feeling of their eyes burning into your skin. You’re sure it's because you look like you don’t belong here. 

The noise in the bar gets louder the closer you get and it reminds you of the night Logan had snuck you out of the house. But you’d had him to lean on, right now, until you find him, you’re on your own. For all the noise coming from the building, the bar is surprisingly empty. 

Only a few old men are sitting around, drinking beers in silence. The bartender cleans glasses behind the counter, sparing you an odd look before getting back to work. There’s not very far for you to look before you figure out that Logan isn’t anywhere nearby. 

“Excuse me?” The bartender spares you a fleeting glance before barely grunting in greeting. 

The floor underneath you tremors and you glance down at it in surprise. You can hear something going on underneath. You figure that has to be where all the noises are coming from. “I’m looking for someone. Tall, mean as hell, he’s got this hair,” you swoop your hands up by the sides of your head, trying to mimic the odd fluff of Logan’s hair. 

“Downstairs.” You nod and move around the bar, trying to get to the door behind him. He reaches out, grabbing your bicep and stopping you before you can get far. “It's a forty-dollar entrance fee, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrows in confusion and you frown as you dig around in your jacket pockets. You’ve come too far to be deterred now. Ignoring the moral implications, you slip Logan’s wallet out of his jacket and give the man forty dollars. 

He nods towards the door and you give him a weak thank you as you slip past him. Opening the door is like breaking a seal. The noises bombard you almost immediately, so much clearer than they were before. 

You still can’t understand what they’re screaming but there’s a violent atmosphere slipping around you as you head down the stairs. The heady smell of cigars and cigarettes threatens to suffocate you. Your eyes water at the smoke in the air. 

You’d think you’d have gotten used to secondhand smoking after being around Logan, but he’s less inclined to hotbox the car if you’re beside him. The second your feet hit the floor you’re being jostled to the side violently by the people around you. 

It’s nearly impossible to elbow your way through the crowd, but you’re determined to figure out what’s in the middle of the cage that’s got them all excited. You can hear the people around you screaming out bets and numbers you don’t understand. 

For one nauseating moment, you think this might be a dog fighting ring, that Logan gambles on it to earn his money. It makes you want to turn around, to shield yourself from the truth. But this is something he tried to keep hidden from you and you need to know the truth about whoever you’re traveling with. 

You can hear the announcer, but you can’t get close enough to see anything yet. “Are you gonna let this man walk away with your money?” There’s a resounding NO! from the crowd that makes you jump. 

A booming voice shouts over the throng of voices, “I’ll take him!” 

“Our savior ladies and gentlemen!” You shove through two men, ignoring the way they complain about how their beer sloshes on their sleeves. 

“Hey-” You glance over your shoulder as one of them reaches for you.  You flick your wrist, sending him and his friend tumbling back into the crowd. You roll your eyes and turn back towards the cage. 

Your eyes widen and so do Logan’s as you finally see what exactly is going on. He’s cage fighting, this is what he’d been so secretive about. Honestly, it’s a relief compared to the brutality you were bracing yourself for. 

You can see his lips starting to form the shape of your name but the man from before is barrelling into his side as the bell goes off. You wince, jumping away from the cage as you hear the meaty impact of his fist against Logan’s face. 

The people near you scream, shouting for Logan’s blood. It’s easy to figure out that he’s been beating everyone he’s gone up against based on some bloody faces in the crowd. It’s smart, easy money. He can always heal, and can never really be beaten, not when he’s literally got fists of steel. 

You’re surprised that no one’s ever caught onto this scam of his. You also wonder why he had been so adamant about you not seeing this. Sure, it’s brutal watching blood spray against the mat. But you don’t care. Besides, he’s ridiculously attractive in just his jeans as he pummels into some guy. 

Maybe that’s not a normal line of thinking. 

You shake your head, shelving that for later as the fight dies down. The man is limp on the mat of the cage and Logan is leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar and pointedly not looking at you. 

You feel that familiar twisting feeling in your stomach and wonder if this was a horrible idea. You should have just stayed in the car like he asked. You’re sure it would have only been another hour of tirelessly rolling around before he came back. But you couldn’t help yourself. 

He tells you so little about himself. If you get a chance to learn more, you’re going to pounce on the opportunity. Maybe it was a violation of his trust. You sincerely doubt that he would ever willingly have revealed this sort of lifestyle to you, though. 

He seems to be under the same misguided intention that you need to be sheltered. It reminds you a little of your father. That might be a cruel comparison but it’s the same suffocating feeling of being kept in the dark to suit their needs. 

The guilt you’d been holding unfurls and blossoms into anger. You find yourself retreating away from the cage and rushing back up the stairs of the bar. You don’t want to watch him fight any longer. You don’t want to look at him. 

You just want him to treat you like an equal. Not like some little girl who’s going to run at the first sign of things getting hard. 

You burst through the door of the bar, ignoring the cold laughter of the bartender behind you. He clearly seemed to think you couldn’t handle a little blood. He wasn’t the only one. 

You’re only a couple of feet from the truck when you hear footsteps loudly stomping through the snow behind you. “What the hell were you doing?” You scoff, unbelieving that he would have the gall to shout at you. 

You whirl around on him and it catches him off guard. His right foot slides against the slush as he tries to stop himself from ramming into you. “I’m not a little girl, Logan! You don’t need to hide stuff like that from me.”

He crosses his arms and glares down at you. “I wasn’t hiding anything,” he insists. But the tone of his voice gives him away. He doesn’t like that he was caught. “I don’t need to tell you jackshit about what I do for money.”

You can’t believe how he sounds right now. Why is he getting so defensive about this? “I don’t care what you do for money, alright. I just don’t get why you felt like I couldn’t know about this.” You hate the way the hurt is audible in your voice. You wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you try and cover it. 

In the same way, he’s masking his feelings with anger, so are you. Just with less success. Something draws across his face, some emotion you can’t discern. His voice goes cold and quiet as he shoves an envelope full of cash into your hands. 

“Go back to the motel. Get a room.”

He storms past you and walks towards the trailer. You follow after him, slightly dumbfounded by how he’s behaving. He rips his motorcycle out from the back and rolls it into a parking spot. You watch him do all this with your tongue glued to the roof of your mouth. 

It’s only when he starts to head back towards the bar that you realize he’s not coming with you. “Logan!” You call out, trailing after him slightly. He barely turns back to face you. “Are you,” the words die on your tongue and you can’t find it in yourself to finish. 

Are you angry?

Are you leaving?

Are you going to ditch me at the next bus stop?

Instead of asking any of your ridiculously pining questions, you turn on your heel and storm towards the truck. You rip the door open with more force than necessary and drive off without looking back at him. But you know he watches, know he keeps an eye on you until he can’t see you anymore. 

Your rides with him are normally silent, but this one feels painfully so. 

You nearly get a room with two beds. But you feel like if you do it will be a horrendous mistake. Reluctantly, you give the man behind the counter enough for a room with one bed large enough for the both of you. 

You’re not exactly excited about sharing a bed with him, not after how he behaved tonight. You grumble to yourself as you drag your bag inside and toss it on the ground. You picture putting up a wall of pillows between the two of you, just to be petty. 

It’s as you’re showering that you realize you might not even have to. He might not come to join you tonight. He won’t know what room you’re in. And he’d made it pretty clear how pissed he was at you for sneaking into the bar. 

Maybe you’ve finally pushed him too far. You’ve been toying with the boundaries of his patience for a while. Little tests to determine whether he truly wants you around simply to have a warm body ready beside him. Or if he wants you because he genuinely cares for you. 

You suppose tonight, whether you want it or not, you’ll finally have the truth. 

The thought keeps you awake. You toss and you turn for hours, fighting with yourself. You should be happy, finally figuring out what’s been haunting you. But you’re not. You’re petrified. You’d rather keep living a lie than finally accept that he truly doesn’t want you. 

You throw the covers off, the scratchy material only further adding to your irritation. You stomp into the bathroom, slamming the door closed behind you. You turn on the sink splashing some cool water over your face to try and rid yourself of the warmth lingering under your skin. You don’t know if this feeling of being uncomfortable in your own body is from pent-up anger or anxiety. 

You don’t care. You just want to sleep this night away and pretend it never happened. But, of course, the universe has other plans. The motel door creaks open as you’re hovering over the sink, debating whether or not you’re nauseous enough to throw up. 

You tilt your head slightly towards the sound. Growing up in your house, filtering through rooms like an unheard ghost, allowed you to get good at recognizing footsteps. Logan has finally decided to grace you with his presence. 

You listen to him as he creeps silently across the room, landing on the squeaky bed. You press your ear against the door and can hear the way the sheets rustle and he cusses under his breath. There’s worry staining his voice and you figure you shouldn’t drag this on much longer. 

You open the bathroom door and flip the switch, turning the lamps on like a disappointed mother waiting up for her teenager. You cross your arms mutely and lean against the doorframe as he winces under the sudden light. 

He jumps, just slightly, and glares over at you. “Thought you weren’t here,” he accuses. He tries sounding angry, but you have a sudden rush of clarity in that moment. Where you would normally focus only on him being upset with you, you can see the truth of his concern.

Same as you, he doesn’t know where he stands in this whole situation. You doubt he had a clear plan when he rescued you from your tower like some ridiculous storybook knight. He most likely thought that you left, the same way you thought he would. 

You remain silent, though, still a little too flustered to speak coherently. Instead, you examine him. There are cuts and blood all over his shirt. Splatters of it on his face. Though, you know if you looked there would be no physical evidence of him ever being hurt. 

His brows furrow the longer you stare, a wall building between the two of you. “Kid?” He questions, equal parts worried and defensive. Does he really think you actually give a fuck about him fighting?

You shake your head and walk back into the bathroom. You rustle around in the cabinet underneath the sink until you find a washcloth. Wetting it, you bring it back out to him. You station yourself between his spread legs, holding the cloth between you like a peace offering. 

He looks doubtful as he glances between you and it. Finally, he lets out a rough sigh and simply nods his head. But when he reaches for it you snatch it back, much to his chagrin. You offer him a small smile and tilt his chin up towards you, gently wiping some of the dried blood off his cheeks. 

He doesn’t flinch or hiss away from the less-than-gentle fabric. He stares at you unblinkingly, like if he closes his eyes for a moment he’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream. “You don’t have to do this, kid.”

You roll your eyes and crane your neck to get a better look at him. “Would you shut up?” You whisper teasingly. 

His lips quirk slightly and you can see his shoulder slump in relief at the sound of your voice. “So, she can talk.” You can’t help the little laugh that comes out of you. He grins fully at that and his hands come up to rest on your hips. 

His thumbs rub soothing circles along the sides of your waist as his hands dip a little lower. “What are you doing?” Your hand drifts down to his neck to wipe some blood off there as well. 

He shakes his head and shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You lift your gaze to his and your lips fall flat, “Logan-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. In one smooth motion, his hands drop to wrap around your thighs. He lifts you slightly and drops you onto his lap. He grins at the slight huff of surprise that rushes out of you. 

His arms go back to your waist, pulling you closer to him and grinding you a little against him. You bite your lip to stop any noises from escaping. As much as you wouldn’t mind what he’s thinking, you need to talk. 

“Logan,” you scold. 

He smirks and tilts his head patronizingly, “Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s not happening,” you tell him firmly, hand still working on cleaning him. 

He sighs and one of his arms drops away from you. He cups your hand in his, stilling your movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. Gently, he takes the cloth from you and tosses it somewhere you can’t see. “I’m fine,” he whispers, eyes searching yours. 

It’s hard meeting his gaze. The worry and anxiety from the night still weigh heavily on your shoulders. He repeats himself, fingers tilting your chin up to face him. “Alright?”

“I don’t care,” the words come rushing out of you before you can stop them. His brows raise in shock and he gives a slight chuckle of amusement. A lump grows in your throat and your eyes grow wide. “Wait, I don’t mean-”

You cut yourself off and rub your hands over your face, trying to get your head on right. Logan’s patient, rubbing your back and clearly trying not to laugh at you. You finally take in a deep breath and face him again. 

“I don’t care about the fighting,” you can see his shoulders tense slightly like he doesn’t believe you. “I don’t care, Logan. You do what you have to survive and I’m not gonna judge you for that.”

“What if I enjoy it?” He cuts you off, tone harsh as he glares down at you. There's experience in how quickly he doubts you, how quickly he tries to get you to change your mind about him.

You wonder how many times he’s been rejected just for being a mutant. You’ve only ever been rejected by one person because only he ever knew. Your father. And that hurt enough for one lifetime. 

You can’t imagine going for as long as he has and constantly being called a monster for something he can’t control. Your brows furrow and you lean into him until your lips are brushing. He remains stiff beneath you but you don’t let it deter you. 

“I don’t care,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his before slowly pulling back. You wait for him to respond, physically or verbally, but he’s still looking at you with that cold unfamiliar gaze. 

You wonder if maybe it was a mistake, to bring it up at all. But just as the thought comes he’s surging forward. His lips catch yours, his hands digging so desperately into your shirt you know it rips. 

Your arms go to his neck, holding onto him so you don’t slip off his lap. You haven't been this close for a few days. You think it might have made you both feel on edge. There’s a relief that comes from not just having sex with him, but also just being intimate and close to one another. 

It’s a reminder that you’re not alone, that there’s someone here beside you to be a partner and a pillar of stability. You’ve never had that before. Someone that you can rely on and trust fully. You don’t think he has either. 

He craves you the same way you do him. Each kiss, every shared breath, is treated like it will be your last. You don’t know when your father will finally catch up to the two of you. You don’t know when the police might finally recognize Logan. 

There’s no definitive future for either of you. It’s a real possibility that this could be your last night together. And neither of you wants to be upset with each other. Because you were never truly mad. You were always just worried. 

Your hands drop to his shirt, dipping to find the holes in it from his fight and ripping at the flimsy fabric until you can just yank it off. He smiles against your lips at the eager way you move atop him. But he can’t tease you, he’s already annoyed with the buttons on your shirt. 

He pulls back, glaring down at the fabric like it's insulting him. Without another word, he slices through it, leaving it in tatters on your shoulder. You grin, shrugging the rest of it off. “That was yours.”

He grips your hips tightly and leaves marks where his fingers are as a reminder that he was here. He flips you over, leaves you breathless as he hovers over you. “I really don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.”

You’re addicted to his voice. How breathy and desperate it is when he’s with you. It’s a level of vulnerability you rarely get to see from him. He can’t hide himself when he’s with you like this. He wants you just as badly as you do him. 

It gives you a confidence rush like no other, makes your ego grow ten times its size. If you can make a man like this fall to his knees from nothing more than a kiss, then you’re capable of a lot more than you give yourself credit for. 

But you don’t want that tonight. You reach for him before he can go much further, grabbing him by his hair and tugging until you know it stings. He nearly fucking moans at your rough touch, eyes fluttering open to meet yours. The green of them has been wholly consumed by his desire for you and it makes you ache for him. 

“Not tonight,” you tell him. There’s no room for argument in your tone. As much as he might want to taste you, devour you, all you want is to be as close to him as possible. You want to be covered and filled by him in every way you can be. 

His head falls against your thigh, a rough groan tumbling from his throat at your words. You drag him towards you, pulling him up your body until you’re face to face. You smile softly up at him, lifting your head so you can meet his lips again. 

You’ll never get enough of kissing him, of tasting him. Sometimes you have to stop yourself from reaching across the seats and kissing him while he drives. You’ve nearly made him wreck a few times and forced him to pull over so you could both have some fun in the back. 

Addiction isn’t the right word for what you feel for him. It brings along its own negative connotations. The taint of dependency and toxicity. With addiction, it’s a parasitic relationship, hurts you but makes you feel good. 

This is just goodness. This is a kind touch for the first time in your life and finally feeling safe in someone elses arms. This is opening yourself up to him fully and not once feeling like you need to mold yourself into something else to make him happy. It’s accepting him as he is, a broken dog who likes to fight to punish himself. You don’t want to change him or make him “better.” You just want him to be happy. 

You use your powers to help yourself, flipping him over and straddling his hips. You drag his jeans down his legs and flick your wrist, sending them flying somewhere across the room. He watches you with eyes filled with awe, hands drifting over your curves like something to be worshipped. 

You know he’s waiting for it, for you to sink yourself down on him and finally be filled. But you wait, hover over him even as the muscles of your thighs tremor. “You don’t hide things from me anymore,” you warn him. You’re not asking, for once, you’re demanding what you want. 

He doesn’t look angry like you’d been expecting. Instead, it only seems to turn him on more. “Ya know,” his hands drift to your hips, dragging you down and over his cock until it’s wet with your want. Your nails dig into his chest until there’s blood beading under them and you’re trying not to let your noises slip out. 

“I kinda like it when you’re all bossy like this.” 

“Logan,” you grit his name out. It takes everything in you not to look as affected by him as you feel. “No more hiding shit.”

He leans up on his elbows. His hand drifts to the nape of your neck and drags you down until your lips are nearly touching his. “Yeah, I got it, sweetheart.”

Like a taut rope being cut, you sink into him, your hips finally drop and he guides you down every inch of him until you feel like you’re so full you can’t breathe. He lets you linger for a moment, and get used to this feeling while he steals the very air from your lungs. 

He’s greedy with the way he touches you. His hands always moving like he’ll never fully be satisfied with how much of you he can feel. He’s always reaching for you like he needs to make sure you’re actually real and not just something he’s dreamt up. 

Even with how impatient he is, you’re always the one that moves first. You roll your hips over him, moaning at how he feels inside you. It’s like he’s perfectly molded you around him. He always manages to brush against the spots that make your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

The second your hips begin to roll, he’s wrapping his heavy arms around you, grinding you down into him. He keeps you trapped in place, using you like a toy as he bounces you on his lap. Your mind is fuzzy, every bad thought and feeling shoved out while he makes you go dumb on his dick.

You love how boneless you go. You don’t have to think now, don’t have to worry. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, shifting yourself further on top of him until you're practically burying yourself under his skin. 

Not thinking always comes with its own consequences, though. Your powers slip a little out of your grasp. The walls trembling and the drawers and cabinets opening and closing. The both of you have gotten used to the noise, know how to drown it out, and just focus on each other. 

One of these days, you’ll need to figure out a way to have sex with him without bringing the room down around you. That’s a problem for later though. His whispered praises and grunts of your name filter through your mind until there’s nothing left inside you but him. 

“Fuck,” he hisses in your ear, “you’re so fucking tight around me. You close?” He grunts, hand drifting down to rub tight circles on your clit. You dig your nails into his shoulders, nodding your head frantically against his neck. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Shit,” you can barely think of your own damn name. Let alone what you want from him. “Fuck off,” you hiss. He chuckles at the attitude and you almost expect him to stop, just to be a dick because you were a brat. 

But he’s just as close as you are and he’s too selfish to tease. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes down on you as your body shakes against his. He follows quickly after you, warmth shooting up inside you and almost leaking down your thighs. You feel stuffed, like your body’s been pushed to the limit and further. 

You both sit together in silence for a while. You ignore the way your skin sticks to his uncomfortably, instead reveling in the warmth he provides you. Anyone else, and you’d be rushing to get away from them. 

You’re always extra sensitive after sex, every little thing setting you off. But there’s a comfort to the way his hairy ass chest brushes against your breasts and his arms squeeze around you. It’s a nice grounding feeling. 

The tips of your fingers drift over his arms, following the path of his veins and brushing against his fingers lazily. He flips his palm over, encasing your hand in his own wordlessly. Little things like that ease your worries. Makes you feel like something more than just a quick fuck. 

He breaks the silence first, which is rare for him. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

You frown and peer up at him. “I told you, I don’t care about the fighting.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “Not that. I shouldn’t have gotten so fucking mad at you. You didn’t do anything wrong.” You want to interrupt him, assure him that you both acted pretty childishly. 

But you understand it’s difficult for him to express himself verbally. He usually prefers silent acts of apologies and expression, you don’t want to mess him up before he can get out what he wants to say. 

“I don’t want to be like your father.” Your face screws up a little and you shift uncomfortably on his lap. He loosens his grip, giving you room to leave if you want to, but you stay put. “I’m trying not to coddle you, sweetheart, or hide you away from the world. But I don’t like you seeing that shit.”

“You’re not my dad, Logan. He wouldn’t give me a choice,” you try and joke but it just seems to make him more irritated. Sighing you straighten up, bracing yourself on his chest and staring down at him. 

Your head tilts to the side in contemplation and he almost looks uncomfortable under the attention. “I’m not so fragile or sheltered that I’m going to shatter at the first taste of the real world, Logan. I mean, for god’s sake, I’ve had acid thrown at me and bodyguards since I could walk. I know how dangerous it is. Whatever you want to hide from me, I’ve seen worse.”

You let your words sink in for a moment and he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. You know that it’s odd for him, to comprehend a girl who was afraid to go into a bar swallowing down an illegal fighting ring like it’s nothing. But you’re not lying. Everyday little things are what you’re unused to. But you’ve lived alongside violence your whole life. 

“Look, fighting, sleeping in shitty motels, and your truck, that doesn't bother me. But I don’t like when you hide things and I don’t,” you take in a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself for the worst. This is what you’ve been trying to tell him for weeks. 

A few little words have your tongue tied and make you desperate to cover yourself up again. He can see the shift in your expression, and feel how tense you get. He sits up a little more, thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand. 

“I don’t want to just be someone to fuck you, Logan. I didn’t come with you so you’d have easy access pussy,” he looks thoroughly amused at your crude words, but there’s something else lingering in his expression. Something like hurt. 

“Is that what you think?” He asks, tone distant. You can’t find the words so you simply nod. He sighs and shakes his head. He eases you off his lap and you worry you’ve truly fucked this up somehow. 

He goes into the bathroom, returns with a wet washcloth. He still doesn’t speak and you’re on edge the entire time he cleans the both of you up. You can see he’s thinking, biting his tongue, and trying to figure out what it is that he wants to say to you. 

You’re impatient, five seconds away from just demanding a response from him. He tosses the cloth and drops into bed beside you. You draw the sheets up to your chest, glaring down at him while he rubs his hands over his face with a tired sigh. 

When he opens his eyes again he laughs at how close you are. “Jesus,” he wraps an arm around your waist, dragging you down into his chest even though you fight him. It must be easier for him to speak when you’re not staring at him. 

“I didn’t go back for you so I could fuck you, kid. I… care about you,” there’s a long pause before he says the word care. You think it’s funny, that he can’t bring himself to admit what he actually feels. But you’ll take it, you’ll give him the time he needs to come to terms with the truth. 

For now, you let yourself fall asleep, feeling just a little bit better about the road ahead. 

Things get easier between the two of you. And somehow harder at the same time. You don’t walk on eggshells around each other, no longer afraid of scaring the other off now. Which also means that you find it easier to bicker with him about little things. Like, not just tossing his trash everywhere in the truck. You’re practically living out of the trailer, the least he could do is help you keep it tidy. 

You know it’s weird for him. Suddenly having someone nag at him not to be a slob or to take breaks in between driving so he doesn’t wear himself out. It’s an adjustment you see him struggle with sometimes. 

You try not to be too pushy, but there’s only so many times you can flick crumbs from his burgers off your seat before you lose it. “Logan!” You snap, glaring at him as you stand up only to find chip crumbs squished into the fabric of your leggings. 

He glances over at you and shrugs, “What?” 

You glance between the crumbs and him with a glare but he doesn’t seem to be connecting the dots. “Fucks sake,” you grumble, passive-aggressively wiping the truck seat off before you slam the door and storm towards the diner. 

You’re sick of being cramped in the truck. You’re sick of the greasy food. You’ve begun to crave salads lately. Which is beyond weird. But the novelty of shitty food and milkshakes wore off a hundred miles ago. 

Logan catches up to you, huffing with irritation as he swings the door open for you. You take a seat in the booth near the corner, snatching up the menu and pointedly staring at it and not him. “Really?” He demands. When you don’t answer he tips the menu down, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What is your problem?” He hisses, trying not to draw attention to you both. 

You lean in, voice a harsh whisper. “How hard is it to just not make a mess? We live out of that damn truck, the least you could do is keep your crumbs on your side.”

He rolls his eyes and leans back in the booth. You’re both sick of having the same fight. But there’s really nothing else to do anymore. When you’re stuck together for so long, it’s the small things that get to you. 

You’re going to say more but the waitress pops in front of you out of nowhere. “Hi!” She beams and gives you her name, the bows in her hair trembling at how hyper she is. “What can I get you both today?”

You and Logan place your orders, and he shoots you an odd look when you only order the salad. “We’ve got a couple more hours ahead of us, you’re gonna get hungry.”

You cross your arms and shrug, “No, I won’t.”

He licks his lips, sucking on his teeth and leaning against the table. “Yes, you will,” he argues with a stern voice. 

You narrow your eyes at him and give him a bitter smile. “Kiss. My. Ass.”

Your stomach grumbles for the third time and you know that Logan can hear it. You’re pointedly not making eye contact with him. It feels like it's louder than the music at this point and you really don’t want to prove him right. 

Without a word, he begins to dig around in the center console. You glance towards him, confused, “What’re you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything, just tosses whatever he’s grabbed onto your lap. You glance down at it and frown. It’s somehow cold as you unwrap it. You pull the parchment paper away and let out a relieved sigh. 

He ordered you a wrap from the diner without you realizing. You take a bite, your hunger steadily easing away. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, pointedly looking out the window. 

He glances over at you and scoffs. “What was that? Couldn’t hear ya, kid.” 

You roll your eyes and turn to glare at him. He’s already looking at you, a teasing tilt to his lips. “I said I’m sorry,” you snap. “I shouldn’t have been a bitch.”

He shakes his head and waves you off. “I haven’t exactly been pleasant myself. I’ll,” he huffs lowly and forces the words out, “clean up more.”  

“I think we’ve just been stuck on the road too long. We’re gonna end up driving each other insane.”

His eyes glance along the signs on the highway. There’s a notice for food and shopping at the next exit and he nods towards it. “We’ll stop at a motel for a few nights. Take a break.” You want to ask him if he’s sure that’s smart. 

It seems risky, to slow down for so long. But you need to walk around, breathe fresh air, and stretch your legs. You’re too selfish to tell him not to stop and keep going. Instead, you nod and smile at him. “That sounds really nice.”

He gives you a slight smile that’s gone as quickly as it came, reaching over and resting his hand on your thigh. You move closer to him and he turns the radio up. You wonder why he doesn’t want to talk anymore but you don’t push it. You’re too excited to finally get out of the truck again. 

The town is nice enough. It’s small, with only a few shops where you buy some new shirts to replace one’s that Logan has torn up. The motel you’re staying at doesn’t have a washing machine so you have to use the laundromat to wash your clothes. 

Logan says he’s going to see if he can find a quick job nearby. You wonder if that means a real job or a more bloody one. You decide not to ask questions, instead taking the little change you have and figuring you’ll try to get the smell of grease out of all your clothes. 

As you load the machine up and put your quarters in you can’t escape the feeling of someone watching you. You’ve been on high alert ever since Logan stole you away from the house. But this is different. 

You’ve gotten used to your own paranoia, you know when it’s real or not. You walk away from the machine, glancing out at the glass walls near the front and trying to see if there’s someone out there. This, oddly enough, doesn’t feel like a police stakeout where they’re going to track you back to the motel and bust Logan. 

This is something different. There is a deep-seated primal fear in you that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your heart races as your eyes search the dark street outside. What little glow comes from the streetlights isn’t enough for you to clearly make anything out. 

But you feel them, tracking your every move. They’re somewhere nearby, you can’t see them but they see you. You feel sick to your stomach. You glance at the door before racing towards it. You turn the lock, slowly backing away and keeping your eyes trained on the street. 

You look into the shadows and find shapes and movements where there are none. Your eyes spin as your brain crafts a horrible image of some monster waiting outside for you. When the timer for the washer goes off you let out a sharp scream, spinning around and clutching your chest as you glare at it. 

“Fuck’s sake,” you mutter, angrily running your hand over your face and trying to catch your breath. You put the clothes in the dryer and by the time you're done, the feeling is gone. You don’t know if they were never there to begin with, or if they got bored and left. 

You’d told Logan that you didn’t need a ride, you’d just walk the short distance back to the motel. Now, you use the phone on the front counter and call him, telling him you’ve changed your mind after all. 

By the time he picks you up, he looks incredibly concerned. You know you sounded panicked when you called him. You still feel upset about the whole thing. But when he asks what’s wrong you just tell him you got a little scared walking back in the dark. 

You don’t tell him someone was watching you because you know he’ll make you pack up and leave again. You want some stability. Even if it's just for a week. So, as stupid as it is, you lie to him and say everything’s fine. 

When you try to go to sleep that night you feel like you’re being watched again. Even with the curtains closed their eyes burn into you. You toss and turn under the heavy weight of the sheets, struggling to get comfortable. 

There’s a low grumble behind you before Logan throws his arm over your waist and tugs you back into his chest. “Stop movin’ around,” he demands, his voice barely audible. You smile a little at how tired he sounds before forcing yourself to settle down. 

He doesn’t give you much choice, using his body as a weight to keep you pinned. You still feel their gaze, even more now, but his proximity brings you enough comfort to get a little bit of restless sleep. 

Logan’s up before you, he always is. He comes in with cheap coffee and free breakfast from the lounge. You push the sheets off your legs, your shirt sticking to your back from the cold sweat of your nervous sleeping. You feel a little more at ease this morning. 

You wonder if you’re developing some late-in-life fear of the dark. You don’t know why you were so upset last night, you feel perfectly fine now. It’s almost like it was all one bad dream. Logan walks over, handing you the coffee wordlessly and rustling around in your bag for something. 

He pulls out the envelope of cash you keep stashed away and frowns at the contents. “Found a job,” he mutters, stuffing the envelope away and turning back towards you. He leans against the desk, face pensive. 

You rub your eyes, trying to wake yourself up a bit more so you sound coherent. “What is it?” You take a sip of the coffee and your face screws up at the aftertaste. 

“Fighting,” his tone is clipped and you wonder what’s got him up in arms. He walks past you, heading into the bathroom, and closing the door behind him. You tilt your head, gaze following him curiously. He doesn’t normally close the door, he usually likes to invite you to join him. 

Something happened and you wonder if he’s hiding the same thing you are. You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath and closing your mind off to the fear from last night. 

By the time Logan is done in the bathroom, you’re feeling more awake. You can’t just dismiss what happened last night. You’ve never gotten scared like that before. You refuse to ignore your instincts, but you’re also not going to let whoever that was terrify you into going back on the road. 

You don’t want things between you and Logan to grow more tense than they already are. The time away from each other yesterday helped a lot. You no longer want to strangle him when you hear him breathe. You’ll just stick closer to him today and see if you feel the eyes on you again tonight. 

“So,” you start, testing the waters to see if he’s still in a bad mood. He glances over at you, eyebrows quirked in curiosity but you’re tongue-tied as you stare at him. However many weeks you’ve been with him and you’re never gonna get used to seeing him straight out of the shower. 

The towel is draped low on his hips, giving you a taunting look at what lies underneath the white cloth. Droplets drip down his abs and you’ve never wanted to be water more than you do right now. It’s unfair, just how attractive he is. 

You always forget what you’re going to say. You can’t think when he has a shirt off, it’s infuriating. Scoffing, you turn away from him and shake your head. You hear him chuckle, you know he knows what you’re thinking about. 

“What’s wrong?” He creeps up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest. 

“Logan, dammit,” water soaks into the back of your shirt uncomfortably and you tilt your head to glare at him. 

He smirks down at you, “Cat got your tongue, kid?”

You roll your eyes and push away from him. “I can’t even remember what I was going to say.” You snatch a shirt from the dresser and shove it into his hands. “Put this on.”

He scoffs and gives you a disbelieving look. “Are you serious?” You wait for him, gaze expectant. You’re not gonna be able to think when he looks like this. Sighing, he acquieses and tugs the shirt on. His lips fall into a sarcastic line, “Happy?”

Like a switch being flipped you finally remember what you were going to ask him. “The job you told me about. Where is it?”

You can see on his face how little he wants to divulge that information to you. But you know he’s going to tell you. You two made a deal not to hide things, although, you might be breaking your side of that right now. 

“Some shitty bar a few miles from here. Listen-”

You’re not gonna like it. 

I don’t want you tagging along. 

You should just stay here and read or some shit.

You wonder which one he’ll pick today. “You wouldn’t like it, it’s just a shitty little place where I can make some quick cash.” Look at that, it’s rarely ever your first pick excuse. You must be getting better at reading him. 

“I’ll come with you,” you tell him because you’re not asking. You’re not staying by yourself tonight and you both need the money. You grin at him even as his face falls in disappointment. “Maybe I’ll fight.”

He doesn’t even say anything and you immediately regret what you said. The look he’s giving you would put you six feet under if it could. “It was just a joke,” you mutter.

“Wasn’t funny, kid,” he tells you, tone clipped as he moves around you to grab his jeans. “I don’t even want you in those places, let alone fuckin’ fighting.”

You purse your lips and take a seat on the bed, handing him his jacket when he begins looking for it. “I have abilities too, you know. Maybe I could win a fight.”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “I win because I can take the hits people deal me. You can’t,” you don’t bother arguing with him that you heal too. You understand what he means. You might be able to recover physically, but there’s a mental aspect to being knocked on the ground. There’s humiliation and fear in cage fights, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle that side of it. 

He waits for you to say anything else but when he realizes you’ve dropped the subject he lets out a relieved sigh. “You’ll stay in the truck,” he tries. 

You give him a deadpan look, slipping the keys out of your purse and handing them to him. “No way in hell, but I’ll stay by the bar if it makes you feel better.” He stays silent and nods but you know he’ll try and convince you otherwise when you actually get to the place. Tough luck, though, you don’t think it’s safe for either of you to be apart tonight. Even if it’s just staying in the truck. 

The setup of these places is always the same. Though, this bar seems to be particularly disgusting in comparison to other ones you’ve been to. You position yourself near the corner, your back to the wall so you’re less likely to be noticed in the crowd. 

The fights never last more than a few minutes. And that’s if Logan is feeling generous. Most of the time you only need to be here an hour before people get pissed off and go home. Someone bumps into you and you hear a small, “I’m sorry,” before they rush to claim a stool. 

The crowd’s already begun to die out. Most leave while they still have a little money left in their pockets. You duck your head down, catching the eye of the girl who’d bumped into you. She looks young and incredibly skittish. Her eyes keep darting to the tip jar near the bartender. 

She quietly asks for water but the bartender just shakes his head, tugging the jar closer to him. You don’t know why you’re drawn to her, maybe it’s because she looks like one of those sad pound puppies, but you take a seat beside her. 

“Water,” you order, slipping him some change. When he gives it to you, you pass it off to her, spotting the greedy way she eyes it. You know a runaway when you see one, she clearly needs a little help. But Logan’s got enough on his shoulders, you’re not gonna bug him with adding another person to the mix. 

“Thank you,” she gulps it down like she hasn’t drunk anything in days. You feel your stomach twist with empathy. What little cash you have in your wallet, you slip into her bag as you pass by her. Logan will have made enough for it to be spared and it's the least you can do. 

Not everyone is as lucky as you to have someone help them navigate a new life. 

Logan grabs his jacket, wiping blood off from under his nose and heading towards you. You know he’ll want a drink before you go, he always does. Before he can say anything someone’s shouting the name he uses in the cage. “Hey, Wolverine! I want my fucking money back.”

The big man he’d knocked down earlier takes a step towards him. His friend tries to hold him back, but there’s no stopping him. He’s already had his ass kicked once, what makes him think this is going to be any different?

“Not your money anymore, bub.” Logan scoffs and turns back towards you. You just want to leave now. You don’t want to stay for a drink or go get something to eat. You feel the eyes on you again, but when you turn to find them there’s no one there but the girl. 

And she’s not looking at you. Her eyes are wide and staring at something else. “Behind you!” She screeches, and both you and Logan whirl around to find the man barreling towards him with a knife outstretched. 

Logan moves so quickly that you stumble back slightly. He grabs the guy's arm, twisting his wrist until the knife drops to the ground. He shoves him back against the wall, claws out and pinning him there.

“Shit,” you whisper, glancing around as the few patrons of the bar stare in horror at Logan. The people counting his money stop and tuck it back into the cash box. You clench your eyes shut in irritation, he’s not gonna be getting paid tonight, that’s for sure. 

There’s a strange noise behind you, like someone cocking a gun. You turn around slowly, gasping when you see the bartender pointing the barrel of his shotgun at your chest. He’s not aiming it at Logan, he’s aiming it at you. Like he somehow knows that’s the only way to get him to back off. 

It’s not like he was going to kill the guy, besides, he came at him with a knife first. What’s the difference if Logan’s a mutant? He’s defending himself. Why does no one understand that?

“Get out of my bar,” the old man warns lowly, taking a step closer to you. Logan turns around and finally spots what’s going on. 

“Pay me and I’ll be on my way.” You know you’d be able to heal from the shotgun blast, but you don’t exactly want to go through it. 

The old man laughs and shakes his head. “You’re not getting paid, buddy. Get the fuck out of my bar before I put a hole in your little girlfriend.”

Your eyes narrow in disbelief. You debate with yourself for a moment, if this is smart or not. But the guy’s being a prick and you’re sick of people treating mutants like they’re less than nothing. You flick your wrist and the shotgun goes flying out of his hand. 

You glance over at the cashbox and it comes floating towards you, landing easily in your outstretched palm. “Be thankful I’m not blowing a hole in you,” you warn, glaring at the cowering man. You walk forward and he stumbles back and you try not to focus on the sick feeling of satisfaction it brings you. You grab the tip jar and shove it towards the girl at the end of the bar. “Good luck, kid.”

Logan releases the man from the before, taking a step towards you. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and rush towards the exit of the bar. You need to just get the fuck out of this town as quickly as possible, you’re not safe here anymore. 

Logan seems to agree with you. He gets into the truck and doesn’t turn back to the motel. Instead, he turns onto the highway while you keep your eyes peeled on the trees outside your window. There’s someone out there, still following you. 

“Something’s wrong with the suspension,” you glance up from where you’d been working on breaking open the cashbox and frown. Logan’s glaring down at the steering wheel, it seems like he’s struggling to get it to turn properly. 

“What?”

He scoffs and glares at you, “How should I know?” He pulls over to the side of the road, opens his door, and lets in a rush of cool air and snow. You toss the cashbox to the back of the trailer and follow after him. 

He goes to where he’s pulling his motorcycle and you feel like you notice an extra bump under the tarp. “What’s that?” You take a step towards it just as Logan pulls it back. You have to bite back a laugh when you see the girl from last night curled up next to his motorcycle. 

She gives you both guilty looks and slowly sits up. “I’m sorry,” Logan offers her a hand and she gets out of the trailer. He grabs her bag and drops it at her feet. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Find a different ride,” he growls, already heading back to the truck. You open your mouth, prepared to argue, but you can’t force her on him. As much as you might want to help her. She’s better off away from the two of you.

“You’re just gonna leave me here?” She snaps at him, a little attitude finally showing through. 

“Yep!” He gets in the truck and you know he wants to drive off immediately but he has to wait for you. You shoot her an apologetic look as you follow after him, slipping into the seat beside him. He starts the engine, driving off slowly, eyes drifting towards the rearview mirror. 

You bite your tongue, trying not to point out how cruel he is leaving her on a snowy highway in the middle of nowhere. He glances over at you, “What?” He snaps. 

You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing.” You’ve barely finished speaking before he’s slamming on his brakes. 

“God dammit,” he mutters, running a hand over the stubble on his jaw. You can’t help the grin on your face, reaching over to open your door. It doesn’t take long for the girl to catch on, scooping up her bag and chasing after you. 

“You’re such a softie,” you tease him. 

“Shut the hell up.”

Rogue is nice, if not a little odd. She claims to be a mutant too but doesn’t want to give specifics on her abilities. You don’t want to push her but you are curious about the gloves she wears. “What kind of name is Wolverine?” She asks, spotting Logan’s tags. 

He glances over at her and smiles slightly, “What kind of a name is Rogue?”

She goes to say something but you throw your arm out, holding her back as you shout, “Logan, watch out!” He tries to hit his brakes in time but the tree’s already coming down. The truck slams into it and it’s like time slows down, only for a moment. 

You can feel the impact of your body against the windshield, the glass dragging along your scalp and skin. It’s like a million razors each slicing into you. And then, you’re flying through the air, head snapping so hard against the ground you can’t see anything. 

You hear something happening around you, a roar that doesn’t sound human echoing through the air. There’s the sound of metal crunching and someone is screaming in the distance but you can’t see. It’s not like a total void of darkness, there’s just nothing. 

You feel the blood slowly leaking down the back of your skull and something lands harshly against your head. You don’t think much time has passed. When your eyes finally open, however, you’re not lying on the pavement. 

The world around you is foreign. It smells like a hospital but it’s not like any you’ve ever seen. X-rays are hanging on the wall and paperwork is scattered on a desk near the bed you’re lying on. 

Your mind is blank for a moment. Slowly turning back on while you process the sudden change of scenery. You don’t even remember closing your eyes, you don’t know when your vision came back to you or how long you’ve been here. 

The terror sets in quickly. You throw the blankets off your legs, staring down at the pajamas you wear in disgust. Someone had changed you. They’d run tests and done X-rays on you and you don’t remember a second of it. 

You rip the needle out of your arm, tossing it to the floor and running towards the door. Your feet slip on the metal floors as you run but you’re afraid to stop. Everything around you looks more and more like a lab. 

Did someone from the bar call some government agency? You’ve heard horror stories from your father about the tests the military has run on mutants. You’re starting to worry that’s what's happening to you. 

But you doubt the military would make it so easy for you to escape. This has to be something else. You’d heard other voices when you’d been lying on the ground. People who had been trying to help. Could that be who took you?

“You caught on quicker than your friend.” You nearly fall flat on your face, flipping around to see who spoke. But no one’s there. You’re completely alone. “I’m just grateful you didn’t choke out one of my associates.” it’s coming from beside you now. 

It’s all around you, the voice floating through the walls until you think he might be in your mind. “Much faster than your friend,” he sounds gleeful and it makes you even more anxious. “I’m a telepath, darling, nothing to fear. If you’d just take that elevator and come up to meet me.”

You’d have to be an idiot to actually listen to the voices in your head. But you don’t see another way out of here. So, reluctantly, you follow the floating voice’s instructions and slip inside the elevator. 

When the door opens up again you don’t have a chance to step inside before someone’s pushing you back. Logan stands in front of you, hands clamped tightly around your shoulders while he looks you over. 

You sink into his arms, hugging him tightly to you. You’d been terrified you were all alone here. It’s more than a relief to see him again. “You’re okay?” He asks, pulling back to look at you one last time. 

You nod, throat too dry to try and form a coherent sentence. You glance over his shoulders brows furrowed at the people awkwardly watching you reunite. There’s a man in a wheelchair smiling at you, “Ah, glad you could make it.” The floating voice, of course. “Logan here was quite worried about you.”

Logan turns to glare at the man and you offer a slight smile. There is something comforting about him. You’re not exactly threatened by an old guy in a wheelchair. The redhead behind him, however, is bugging you. Something about the way she’s looking at Logan doesn’t sit right with you. 

“Welcome to my school for the exceptionally gifted,” something about the way he says that makes you tilt your head in confusion. You don’t know what he means until there’s a puff of smoke behind him and some kid is walking by with their hair on fire like it’s nothing. 

Mutants. It’s an entire school for mutants. You think you could pass out again. 

“It’s the best place we could have ended up, Logan. This is amazing.” You’ve been going back and forth for an hour. He won’t see reason. He keeps saying you need to leave. That you don’t know these people and it could all be one big trap. 

You don’t understand him, why he’s so desperate to get away from people like the both of you.  You’re rejected in every other corner of society. You could have something real here. 

It hits you at once. That’s the problem. He’s not ready for something real. He’s not used to it because he’s never had it before. At least you could pretend at a sense of normalcy living at home. It’s an entirely new concept to him, sticking to one place for so long. 

“We don’t know these people,” he hisses, leaning over the bed to argue with you. You narrow your eyes but your conversation is cut off by a knock on the door. You sigh, walking away from him and swinging the door open. 

Jean is on the other side, a surprised look on her face when she sees you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was trying to drop these off to Logan.” You glance down at the towels in your hand and give her a strained smile. That’s a flimsy excuse if you’ve ever seen one. “I must have the wrong room.”

You step to the side, opening the door wider so she can see him. He doesn’t even look at her, too busy angrily unmaking the bed. “No, you have the right one.” You hold your hands out expectantly, “I can just take those for you.”

The look on her face is priceless and finally causes a real smile to grow on your lips. She wordlessly hands you the towels, looking disappointed. You don’t know if it's because of what she was trying to do, or because she couldn’t do it. 

Before she leaves you call out a quick, “Tell Scott I said thank you again. Wouldn’t be here without him, after all.” Her shoulders tense and she rushes back down the hall. Whatever little crush or interest she has with Logan is going to need to be dealt with on her own. 

You’ve got enough shit going on without having to worry about her too. You shake your head and slam the door shut, tossing the towels on the desk. Logan sits on the bed, watching you with an odd look. 

“What was that about?”

“She’s into you,” you tell him bluntly, waiting for his reaction. He doesn’t even blink, just glances between the towels and you before shrugging. 

“Not interested.” You don’t want to admit that you feel any relief. There was never any real doubt. But it’s still nice to be reassured. 

You slip into bed beside him, taking his hand and forcing him to meet your gaze. “I know that this isn’t what either of us was expecting, but this is good, Logan. We don’t have to worry about pretending we’re something we’re not. We don’t have to worry about my dad or anyone finding us.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced. But he lets out a heavy sigh and drags you closer to him. He tucks your head under his chin, placing a brief kiss against your forehead. “If you want to stay, we’ll stay. But I’m not putting on that fucking costume.”

You laugh a little, peering up at him with a grin, “Deal.” 

There’s a place for you here, even if there isn’t in the rest of the world. You can be safe here, you don’t have to worry anymore. You don’t have to fear the eyes on the back of your head because they can’t get you here. 

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 @allilium @insomniachox  ♡ 

Asked for part two: @enchantedbutterflies @strawberrylore @ittoscumdump @enananawoah @wotcherboo

@cali0101 @fluffy-b33z @pcrushinnerd @izbelross @saltwaterburns

@likeficsinthewnd ♡ 

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

                                                *

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

Until I Found You

Summary: Living in a small town had it's pluses and minuses. But when an older man and his daughter move in, things start to change, perhaps for the better.

Word Count: 24.3k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!teacher!reader

Notes: this is looong, and believe me, i was surprised when i realized that it ended up being 24,000 words.

this thing is a slow-burn, i was literally screaming at my screen saying 'just kiss already!' then realizing that, in fact, i'm the one who has to make them kiss or confess or do something.

reader has a last name, but other than that, she isn't described. this technically could be considered an AU of logan (2017) where logan survives, so this was written with old man logan in mind.

i would like to turn this into another oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests! (relating to this or anything else you want to see!)

warnings: none!

The small town you lived in meant a few things, everyone knew everyone, and everyone got in everyone’s business.

A few months ago, an older man and his young daughter moved into town. You weren’t sure exactly how old he was, of course you knew who he was, but even you had to admit, he was attractive. But that’s what everyone thought, you heard the mothers who would pick up their children from school, looking at Logan as he picked up Laura.

It was nice to see a man who picked up his kid, though you’ve never seen Laura’s mother, so perhaps that explains why.

Laura was a quiet and sweet girl, at least that’s what you thought. Apparently, she also had the spirit of a firecracker and got angry easily. And while she’s visited the principal’s office at least 9 times since she’s been here, you still can’t help but see her as a cute little girl who’s been through something traumatic, whatever it was.

You were standing outside with your class in the afternoon, waiting until all the students were picked up. Laura was in another teacher’s class at the end of the day, your coworker Emma Zhou. You and Emma stood next to each other, your classes mingling as they waited for their parents to pick them up.

Emma leaned close to you, “this is my favorite part of the day, you know.”

“Yeah, I think it’s everyone’s favorite part of the day. We get to go home after this.” You replied.

“It used to be that, but now…” Emma trailed off as you glanced over at her, “there aren’t a lot of people in this town who are good looking. But he’s a great new addition.”

You hummed noncommittally, so what if Logan was good-looking? It wasn't like you spent your time ogling him. He was just another parent in the sea of them, a bit rougher around the edges maybe, but nothing that special. Emma shot you a knowing look.

"Come on, you’ve seen him, right? That scruffy beard, those eyes," Emma said, nudging you with her elbow. "He’s like one of those rugged cowboys from the old Westerns."

"You sound like you're about to swoon," you teased, trying to keep the conversation light. You didn't want to admit you might have noticed the way his eyes softened when he looked at Laura or the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Well, can you blame me?" Emma shot back with a grin. "Small town like ours, and a guy like that shows up? It's bound to turn some heads."

You knew that much. All the women, even those who were married, always ogled him, but he either didn’t mind or didn’t care. His salt and pepper hair, the thick beard—he was practically a wet dream for women everywhere.

Emma nudged you again, eyes gleaming with mischief. "What, you’re not even the least bit curious about him?"

"I mean, sure, he's... attractive, but I'm not about to join the fan club," you said, shrugging it off, though you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You kept your focus on the kids in front of you, especially Laura, who sat quietly on the steps, doodling in her notebook like she always did while waiting for her dad.

Emma smirked, clearly not buying your indifference. "Yeah, right. I see the way you look over there sometimes."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You're seeing things."

Just then, you noticed Logan’s truck pull into the school parking lot. He stepped out, running a hand through his hair as he made his way over to the crowd of parents. Laura immediately perked up, her quiet demeanor shifting just a little, and she started gathering her things without a word.

"Speak of the devil," Emma murmured, but you ignored her, watching as Logan approached, his usual scowl in place, though it softened when his eyes landed on his daughter.

He gave a brief nod in your direction as he came closer. "Afternoon."

"Hey," you replied, casually. You weren’t about to give Emma the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Laura stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder as she walked over to him. She paused in front of you, though, glancing up with those big, serious eyes of hers.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice quiet but steady with a hint of her accent.

You smiled. "See you tomorrow, Laura."

She gave a small nod before taking Logan’s hand. He didn’t say much else, just a simple ‘thanks’ before turning to leave with Laura in tow. You watched them walk away for a moment longer than necessary, noticing the slight limp in his step that he tried to hide.

"Y/N," Emma sing-songed, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Admit it, you’ve got a little thing for him, don't you?"

You rolled your eyes. "You really need a new hobby."

Emma laughed, but before she could press any further, her attention shifted to another parent picking up their kid, and you were grateful for the distraction. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder about Logan and Laura, what their story was. Everyone in town seemed to have their theories—some more ridiculous than others—but you’d always figured it wasn’t your place to pry.

As the crowd of students and parents thinned out, you found yourself thinking about Logan again. His gruff exterior didn’t bother you—it reminded you of those old Clint Eastwood characters, tough but with something vulnerable underneath. Maybe it was the way he looked at Laura, so protective but with a softness that made you wonder what kind of man he really was when he let his guard down.

Emma’s voice pulled you back to the present. "So, what’s your plan for the evening?"

You shrugged. "Probably just grading papers. Maybe catching up on some Netflix. You?"

"Trying to figure out how to run into Logan at the grocery store," she joked, though you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wasn’t kidding.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Good luck with that."

As you both said your goodbyes and headed to your cars, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time. He was already driving off, Laura in the passenger seat, her head leaning against the window.

You let out a small sigh and got in your car, starting the engine. You weren’t sure what it was about him, but there was something there. Maybe Emma wasn’t entirely wrong.

Not that you’d ever admit that to her.

---

Much to your dismay, you had to go to the store once you were already clad in your loungewear. You wanted to make pasta, only to remember you forgot to get milk after work.

So now, here you were at the small local grocery store grabbing milk and a pint of ice cream for your troubles. The store was quiet at this hour, a few other people milling about but otherwise uneventful. You grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the dairy section, trying to get in and out as quickly as possible. Loungewear was great for a lazy evening at home, but not exactly your first choice for public appearances.

Once you made it to the frozen section, you looked at the pints of ice cream, specifically looking for one of your favorites, Ben and Jerry’s s’mores. “Fuck.” You muttered, seeing a pint of cookie dough in the spot of the s’mores.

You angrily grabbed the cookie dough ice cream to look behind it, only to find a chunky monkey pint. With a huff, you looked at the pint of ice cream, mentally cursing your luck. Just as you were about to put it back onto the shelf, a deep voice spoke from beside you.

"Didn't figure you for a chunky monkey type."

Startled, you looked up and found Logan standing there, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was holding a six-pack of beer and a carton of eggs in one hand, the other casually resting in the pocket of his jeans.

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden appearance. "What? Oh, no, I was just... I was looking for s'mores," you explained awkwardly, holding up the ice cream like it was evidence.

He nodded, his smirk deepening a little as he glanced at the shelves. "Guess they’re out, huh?"

"Yeah, my luck tonight," you muttered, a little embarrassed to be caught standing here obsessing over ice cream in your loungewear. Not exactly how you wanted to run into the guy you were definitely not crushing on. How could you? He was the Wolverine, around 200 years old, and looked to be the age of your father. Well, if your father was still alive. Or if you ever got to know him.

Logan glanced at the shelf again and shrugged. "S'mores is overrated anyway."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, momentarily forgetting your embarrassment. "Oh really? What’s your go-to then, Mr. Anti-S'mores?"

He smirked, that same low, gravelly voice coming through as he responded. "Not much of an ice cream guy, but if I had to choose… probably plain vanilla. Simple. Not too sweet."

You couldn't help the chuckle that escaped you. "Of course you'd go for the most basic flavor."

His eyebrow twitched slightly at that, and you could see the playful glint in his eyes. "Sometimes simple’s the best option."

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a pint of vanilla. "Well, I guess I'll take your advice tonight, then. Not like I have much of a choice."

He gave you a brief nod, and for a moment, it seemed like the conversation would end there, but then Logan shifted slightly, his weight on one leg, clearly trying to mask the limp you'd noticed earlier. You weren’t sure if it was from the adamantium or something else, but it definitely wasn’t healing like it should. You found yourself biting your lip, wanting to ask but knowing better.

Instead, you went for something safer. "Laura’s doing well in class, by the way. She’s sharp. A little stubborn, but sharp."

He glanced down at you, a flicker of pride crossing his face. "Yeah, she’s a tough one." His expression softened as he added, "She doesn’t talk about it, but I know she likes you. Keeps her distance with most people."

Your heart fluttered a little at that. Laura was a bit of a mystery, rarely engaging much with the other teachers or students, so hearing that she’d let her guard down even a little with you meant more than you’d expected. "Well, she’s a good kid. I try not to push her too much."

Logan nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than you expected, like he was sizing you up in that quiet, brooding way of his. It made you feel both exposed and… oddly seen.

"Anyway," you said, breaking the silence, "I’ll let you get back to your shopping. I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than stand around talking about ice cream."

He gave a small grunt that might’ve been a laugh, but it was so subtle you couldn’t be sure. "Yeah. See you around, Ms. Aberra."

"Y/N," you corrected, feeling a little awkward. "You can just call me Y/N."

He hesitated for a split second before nodding. "Y/N, then."

You gave him a small smile, feeling a strange warmth at the way your name sounded in his deep voice. He gave a nod before turning to leave, but as he walked away, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at his retreating form. There was something about him—something rough, broken, but undeniably captivating.

---

The next morning, you pulled into the school parking lot, iced coffee in hand, still replaying your chance encounter with Logan at the grocery store. Why did it have to be the one night you went out in loungewear? If Emma ever found out, you'd never hear the end of it. You mentally braced yourself as you walked toward the building, determined to shake off any lingering thoughts about last night.

As you entered the teacher's lounge to drop off your things, Emma was already there, nursing her own cup of coffee. She spotted you immediately and raised an eyebrow.

"You look a little too chipper for a Wednesday," she teased.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. "Just happy to be halfway through the week."

"Uh-huh," she said, not quite convinced. "You didn't run into anyone interesting last night, did you?"

Your heart skipped a beat. How does she know?

"Like who?" you asked, trying to play dumb, but Emma's smirk told you she wasn't buying it.

"Oh, I don’t know... maybe a certain rugged cowboy-looking guy with a truck?" she said, her grin widening.

You groaned. "Seriously, do you have a sixth sense or something?"

"I knew it!" Emma practically squealed. "You did run into Logan, didn’t you? Come on, spill!"

You rolled your eyes and took a seat at the table. "It was nothing. We just ran into each other in the frozen section, talked for, like, two seconds. That’s it."

"Uh-huh, and?" Emma leaned forward, eager for details.

"And nothing. We talked about ice cream. He said s'mores was overrated."

Emma let out a dramatic gasp. "Overrated? Now, I know he's not perfect."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Yeah, well, that's the most thrilling part of my story, so feel free to be disappointed."

Emma shook her head, still grinning. "Oh, I'm not disappointed at all. This is just the beginning."

"There's nothing to begin, Emma," you said, exasperated. "He's just another parent."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," she said with a wink before heading out to her classroom. You couldn't help but roll your eyes again as you followed her out into the hallway.

---

The morning passed uneventfully, but Laura had been quieter than usual in your class. Not that she was typically the most talkative kid, but today she seemed more distant, even from you. She’d finished her assignments early, as usual, but spent most of the class staring out the window instead of doodling in her notebook.

During lunch, you decided to check in with her. You found her sitting by herself outside, picking at the sandwich Logan had packed for her. You approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her.

"Hey, Laura," you greeted, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "Everything okay?"

She glanced at you, her expression as unreadable as always, before giving a slight shrug. "Yeah."

You studied her for a moment, noticing the way she kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact more than usual. Something was definitely off. You knew better than to push too hard, but you also didn't want her to bottle everything up.

"Well, you know if you ever want to talk, I’m here," you said gently.

She gave another shrug, but this time, her eyes flickered up to meet yours briefly. "I know."

You nodded, letting the silence settle between you. Laura wasn’t one for big emotional outbursts—at least not around you—but you had a feeling she'd talk when she was ready.

"By the way," you said, changing the subject to lighten the mood, "your dad said he don’t like s'mores ice cream. Is that true, or is he just weird?"

Laura looked up at you, her lips twitching slightly like she was trying not to smile. "I like s'mores."

"Thought so," you replied with a smirk. "Well, I’m officially questioning all of your dad's taste now."

Laura didn’t laugh, but her expression softened a little, and she took another bite of her sandwich. It wasn’t much, but it felt like progress. You let her finish eating in peace, feeling a little more at ease knowing that you’d at least gotten her to relax.

---

The afternoon flew by, and soon enough, the end-of-day pickup routine was in full swing. You and Emma stood outside again, watching the usual parade of parents and cars. Logan’s truck was easy to spot as it pulled up to the curb. You tried to act like you weren’t paying attention, but of course, Emma caught you glancing over.

"Still nothing, huh?" she teased under her breath.

"Shut up," you muttered, doing your best to seem disinterested.

Logan stepped out of the truck, his usual stoic expression in place as he made his way toward the school. Laura was already waiting, standing near the steps with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She saw him and walked over without hesitation, but before they left, she turned back to you.

"Bye, Ms. Aberra," she said, her voice a little softer than usual.

"See you tomorrow, Laura," you replied with a smile.

Logan gave you a nod as they walked past, and you couldn’t help but notice the slight limp in his step again. It was subtle, but there. Your curiosity piqued, but you pushed it down, reminding yourself it wasn’t your place to pry.

Emma, however, was still watching you closely. "You’re so not fooling anyone."

You shot her a look. "Seriously, get a hobby."

Emma just grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Oh, this is my hobby, Y/N. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it."

As you both stood there, watching the last of the kids get picked up, you couldn’t help but glance over at Logan’s truck one more time as it drove away. Emma’s teasing was getting on your nerves, but there was a part of you that couldn’t completely dismiss what she was saying.

Maybe you were a little curious. Just a little. But you weren’t about to admit that to anyone—not even yourself.

---

Over the weekend you decided it was time to get an oil change. You weren’t going to go to ‘Mavin’s Oil Change’, not after that happened. Which is why for the past few years you’ve been doing it yourself.

It wasn’t difficult, and it was a lot cheaper, both wins in your book.

You walked around the hardware store, glancing at the shelves as you carried a new oil drain pan. You paused in front of the rows of motor oil, scanning the labels. Conventional had always worked fine for you, but maybe this time you'd splurge on the synthetic blend. It wasn't a huge decision, but it felt like a small act of treating yourself, in a way.

You were debating the pros and cons of the oil options when you heard the sound of someone walking up behind you.

"Didn’t peg you for the kind to do your own oil changes."

You turned your head and were met with Logan’s familiar gravelly voice. There he was again—of all places, he’d found you here in the auto section of the hardware store.

"Yeah, well, it's cheaper this way," you replied with a casual shrug, hoping to mask the slight surprise in your voice. You gestured to the oil in front of you. "What about you? Conventional or synthetic blend?"

Logan glanced at the shelf, then back at you. "Conventional. Gets the job done."

"Figures." You grinned a little, grabbing the conventional oil off the shelf. "Guess I’ll stick with what I know too, then."

He raised an eyebrow at you, but there was a hint of amusement behind his usual stoic demeanor. "Figured you’d be one to overthink it. Synthetic’s not all it’s cracked up to be."

You chuckled. "I’ll take your word for it, Mr. Oil Expert."

He grunted in response, grabbing something off the shelf for himself. For a moment, you both stood there, surrounded by tools and motor oil, neither of you saying much. It was kind of nice—quiet, comfortable in a way you wouldn’t have expected.

You shifted, holding the oil pan in your hands. "So, is Laura doing anything fun this weekend?"

Logan glanced at you, his face softening slightly at the mention of his daughter. "Not much. She likes to keep busy, but… this town ain’t exactly got a lot going on."

"True," you nodded, biting your lip as you tried to think of something. "She could come by and help me out with my garden, if she’s interested. I know she likes plants."

Logan looked at you, a little longer than usual, and you wondered if you’d crossed some kind of line offering something so personal. But then he nodded. "She’d probably like that."

"Cool," you said, feeling oddly relieved that you hadn’t messed up. "Let me know if she wants to. I could use an extra set of hands."

He gave a small nod, but his eyes lingered on you again for a second before he turned his attention back to the shelf. There was that same weight to his gaze, like he was always sizing things up, figuring people out.

"You know," you said, breaking the silence, "I’m starting to think you’re stalking me. First the grocery store, now here. Should I be worried?"

Logan snorted, shaking his head. "Pretty sure it’s the other way around."

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me? If anything, I’m just a simple schoolteacher who likes ice cream and doing her own oil changes. Hardly the stalking type."

"Sure," he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching just slightly into what could almost be considered a smile.

You felt your own lips tugging into a grin, and for a moment, it felt easier. Logan wasn’t always the easiest person to talk to, but something about these small, random moments with him made you feel more at ease than you expected.

"Well, good luck with your oil change," he said, turning to head down another aisle. "Maybe see you around."

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, watching him walk away before you continued shopping, a strange warmth lingering in your chest.

As you walked toward the checkout, you couldn’t help but think back on how natural it felt, just talking to him. There wasn’t any awkwardness or forced conversation—just two people running into each other at the hardware store. Nothing to overthink. Except, maybe, the fact that you were starting to like these encounters more than you’d like to admit.

---

Logan blew out a breath of his cigar smoke. Laura said she didn’t like it when he smoked inside so he started doing it outside on the porch.

A small added bonus was seeing you, a few houses down, across the street, currently underneath your car getting the oil to drain.

The door opened and shut behind him as Laura stepped out, “ella te gusta,” she said softly.

He let out a huff, “kid, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura let out her own huff, sitting down next to Logan’s chair with her sketchbook, flipping it open. She didn’t say anything for a while, just started sketching in that intense, quiet way she had. Logan leaned back, puffing on his cigar, watching the smoke curl up into the air.

He caught himself glancing back across the street, where you were still working under your car. Laura's earlier comment lingered in his mind, even if he pretended not to know what it meant.

After a few minutes of silence, Laura looked up from her drawing. “You should go help her.”

Logan snorted, taking another puff of his cigar. “She’s fine. Knows what she’s doin’.”

Laura raised an eyebrow at him, her expression skeptical. “You’re always saying people shouldn’t be doin’ stuff like that alone. What if something happens?”

“Yeah, but she’s not helpless,” he grunted, though there was something in his tone that sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than her.

Laura shrugged and went back to her sketch. “Still think you should.”

Logan glanced at her, then back at you. You were sliding out from under the car, wiping your hands on your jeans, looking like you’d handled it just fine. He grunted again, though this time it was more to himself.

“What are you drawing?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

Laura held up her sketchbook, showing him a detailed drawing of a plant—a vine with thorns twisting around a branch. It reminded him of your garden, something about the way the plants seemed to grow wild but still had a certain beauty to them.

“That for Ms. Aberra?” Logan asked, the name slipping out before he could stop it. He tried to keep his tone casual, but Laura shot him a knowing look.

“Maybe.” She shrugged, but there was a smirk playing on her lips. “She likes plants. Thought she’d like this.”

Logan just nodded, staying quiet. He wasn’t about to get into a conversation with an eleven-year-old about why he’d noticed things about your garden or how you seemed to have a way with plants. That wasn’t his style.

“Why don’t you go show her?” Logan suggested, nodding toward you as you gathered up your tools.

Laura seemed to think about it for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe later. She’s busy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t push it. He knew better than to try and make Laura do something if she wasn’t in the mood. The kid had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Though he supposes it was his fault.

A teenage girl who was walking a dog, a tan pit bull, stopped in front of your driveway, the dog happily wagging its tail as it patiently waited for you to say hello.

You were still wiping the oil off your hands when you noticed the pair. "Hey, there.” You smiled as you crouched down to greet Juno, who leaned eagerly into your hand, her tail wagging excitedly. "How are you, Juno?" you cooed, giving the pit bull a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage girl holding the leash smiled politely. “She’s been dying to see you again,” she said, giving the leash a little slack so the dog could get closer.

"Well, I’m always happy to see her." You grinned as the dog nudged your leg, clearly wanting more attention. "Been a busy evening?”

The girl shrugged. “Yeah, but Juno here makes it better. You know how it is.”

You nodded. "Definitely. Plants are my version of Juno. Or baking, it’s hard to decide.”

The girl chuckled lightly before glancing at the car behind you. “Doing your own oil change?”

"Yep," you said, standing up and wiping your hands again on the rag. "Easier and cheaper than going to a shop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Impressive. I wouldn’t even know where to start."

“You’d be surprised how easy it is. YouTube tutorials, mostly,” you said, shrugging as you wiped your hands on the rag.

The girl smiled. "I might have to try that next time. If I don’t mess up my car in the process.”

You laughed. "That’s what the tutorials are for. But yeah, it’s not too bad. You’d get the hang of it."

As you chatted with the girl for a bit longer, Juno continued to happily soak up the attention. You scratched behind her ears one more time before standing up straight. “Well, good luck with the rest of your walk. Always nice seeing you two.”

“Same here,” the girl replied, tugging gently on Juno’s leash. “C’mon, girl. Let’s get home.”

You waved as they continued down the street, Juno looking back at you with her tail wagging. With a satisfied sigh, you turned back to finish cleaning up, putting away the oil pan and bottles of motor oil.

Across the street, Logan puffed his cigar, watching as you gathered your tools and wiped your hands one more time. Laura had gone back to her sketching, though every now and then she’d glance up at him with that same look.

“She’s done now,” Laura said after a moment, still sketching.

“I can see that,” Logan grumbled, tapping ash off the end of his cigar.

“Still think you should go help,” she added, not even bothering to look up this time.

Logan huffed, staring at you as you double-checked your work and began packing up. He didn’t need to help—you were obviously handling everything just fine. But still, there was something about the way you worked so methodically, so determined. You’d done it all yourself, like you didn’t need anyone’s help. He couldn’t quite shake the feeling, though, that maybe he wanted to offer it anyway.

“Kid, you sure know how to push buttons,” he muttered under his breath.

Laura just smirked, flipping another page in her sketchbook.

Logan grumbled to himself for a moment longer before standing up from his chair, tapping out the last of his cigar in the ashtray. “Stay here.”

He walked across the street toward your driveway, hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes set on you as you knelt by the toolbox, sorting through the remaining tools.

“You done already?” he called out, making his presence known.

You glanced up, not expecting to see him again so soon. “Yeah, just finished up,” you replied, standing up and wiping your hands on the rag again. “What about you? Something break down?”

“Nah, just figured I’d see if you needed any help,” he said, his tone casual, though you could tell it wasn’t exactly his style to offer assistance without a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling a little. “You offering to help after the job’s already done?”

"Guess I am," Logan replied with a hint of a smirk, his eyes not quite meeting yours.

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it's the thought that counts, I suppose. Next time, I’ll be sure to save the hardest part for you."

"Yeah, you do that," he said, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. He shifted his weight slightly, glancing over at the now-finished oil change. "You do this kind of thing often? Or just the oil changes?"

"Mostly just the oil changes," you admitted, as you leaned in closer like you were telling a secret. “I went on a few dates with Mavin’s son the first few months I was here and didn’t go over well. Now he overcharges me.” You held up your hands, “but if it’s something complicated, I promise I drive 30 minutes to the city to get it checked out.”

Logan's eyes flickered with interest, the corners of his mouth twitching into something resembling a smile. "That right? Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mavin's a bit of a jerk."

You chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yeah, he wasn't thrilled about me ghosting his son, that's for sure. But hey, I learned how to change my own oil, so I guess something good came out of it."

Logan grunted in agreement, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't say much after that, his eyes lingering on you as if he were trying to piece together something that didn't quite fit. You had a feeling he wasn't used to people like you—people who seemed to find their way into his life, one way or another.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, "thanks for the offer, even if the job’s already done." You smiled, a little uncertain about what to do next. "Guess I'll see you around."

He nodded, but didn't make a move to leave. "Laura likes you, you know."

That caught you off guard. "Oh," you replied, a bit flustered. "Well, I like her too. She's a good kid. Smart, but... you already know that."

"Yeah," Logan muttered, his voice softer than usual. "She doesn’t open up to many people. But you... you’re different."

You weren't sure how to respond to that, so you just nodded, feeling an unexpected warmth spread through your chest. "I’m glad she feels comfortable around me. She’s been through a lot."

Logan's eyes darkened slightly, a shadow passing over his features. "More than most," he agreed, his voice rough with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

You wanted to reach out, to say something that might make him feel better, but words failed you. So instead, you just stood there, the silence stretching between you, not awkward but charged with something unspoken.

"Anyway," Logan said, clearing his throat as if to shake off the heavy moment. "If you ever need help with the car, you know where to find me. Or Laura."

You smiled, feeling that warmth again. "I’ll keep that in mind. And if you two ever need help with, I don’t know, math homework or... anything else, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Noted."

You watched as he turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. As he walked back toward his house, you couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something more than just friendly encounters at the store.

---

During lunch, you sat in your classroom, enjoying 30 minutes of peace and quiet before the kids came back into the room. The soft hum of the heater filled the space, making the room feel warmer than usual as you flipped through the stack of quizzes you needed to grade. The formulas and diagrams were a blur as your mind drifted back to the weekend, specifically to Logan.

The way he’d offered to help with your oil change, the quiet moments that had followed—it was so unlike him. Or maybe, you realized, you just didn’t know him well enough yet. Either way, something about it had left you feeling... something.

A soft knock on the doorframe pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up to see Emma standing in the doorway, that cheeky grin on her face.

“So,” she started, stepping inside your classroom. “I hear you’re making friends with a certain someone across the street.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down the quiz you’d been half-grading. “I’m not ‘making friends.’ We just happen to run into each other.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Mhm. Sure. Totally normal for him to come help with your oil change, right?”

"My God, how do you know?" you asked, eyes widening in disbelief as you sat back in your chair.

Emma smirked, leaning against the doorway like she had all the time in the world. "Small town. You know how people talk." She paused, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Besides, you’re not exactly subtle. Logan? The gruff guy across the street? It’s hard to miss that you two have been... running into each other more than usual."

You sighed, rubbing your temple. "It’s not like that. He just offered to help with my car, and Laura—"

Emma’s grin widened. "Ah, Laura. That’s the key, isn’t it? I’ve seen how she looks at you. That kid doesn’t warm up to just anyone. She’s a little... prickly, but with you? She’s different."

"She’s a good kid," you said, trying to deflect. "She’s been through a lot, you know? I just think she needs someone to talk to. Someone who’s not... intimidating."

"Sure, sure," Emma teased, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of one of the desks. "But you can’t tell me there isn’t something more going on between you and Logan. I mean, come on. He doesn’t exactly strike me as the ‘friendly neighbor’ type. More like ‘leave me alone or I’ll stab you with my claws’ type."

You chuckled despite yourself. "Okay, yeah, he’s not exactly Mr. Rogers. But it’s not like we’re... you know, it’s just—"

"Flirting?" Emma offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Friendly," you corrected quickly, though the warmth in your cheeks betrayed you. "It’s just friendly. He’s Laura’s dad, and we’ve talked a few times, but that’s it."

Emma gave you a knowing look. "Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

You groaned, pushing your quizzes aside. "Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"Because," Emma said with a shrug, "it’s about time you had a little fun in this town. You spend all your time either at school or working on that garden of yours. You deserve to have a life outside of grading papers and pulling weeds."

"I have a life," you protested.

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Really? And when was the last time you went on a date?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but quickly closed it, realizing you didn’t have a good answer. "Okay, fine," you admitted, "it’s been a while. But that doesn’t mean—"

"Exactly my point," Emma interrupted, flashing a triumphant grin. "Look, I’m not saying you have to marry the guy. But Logan? He’s clearly interested. And I think you are too."

"Okay… even if I was interested, I’m pretty sure a guy like that doesn’t have dating or relationships on his mind. Especially with someone like me." You leaned back in your chair, feeling a mix of frustration and doubt.

Emma gave you a skeptical look, shaking her head. "Someone like you? Come on, Y/N. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re smart, funny, and clearly, Logan thinks you’re worth his time. He’s not just helping anyone with an oil change, believe me."

You sighed, crossing your arms. "It’s not that simple. You know what he’s been through. And Laura... she’s been through so much already. I’m not about to mess with their lives."

Emma smirked, tapping her fingers on the desk. "Mess with their lives? Or make their lives better? Laura clearly likes you, Y/N. She’s practically glued to your side when you’re around. And Logan? He’s different with you. I see it."

You frowned, picking up a pen and twirling it between your fingers. "Laura’s nice to me, yeah. But that doesn’t mean anything. She’s indifferent to most of the other teachers, and she barely talks in class. I don’t even know if she likes me, or if it’s just... I don’t know."

"She doesn’t warm up to just anyone," Emma pointed out. "You’re different. She looks at you like she trusts you, and Logan trusts you too, whether he shows it or not. That’s not something that happens often with them. They’re... well, guarded, for obvious reasons."

You were quiet for a moment, thinking about Laura. It was true—she was quiet, distant with others, but with you? There was something different. She’d even started staying after class sometimes, just sitting there while you graded papers or prepped for the next lesson. And Logan? He was always nearby, watching, but never intruding.

Still, the idea of anything happening between you and Logan felt... complicated. "Even if he did trust me, it’s not like he’s the type to be thinking about relationships. The man’s got enough on his plate. And me? I’ve got work, and... I’m not exactly relationship material."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Please, Y/N. If anyone deserves a chance at something real, it’s you. You’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else—your students, your job. Maybe it’s time to let someone take care of you for a change."

You looked at her, skeptical. "You think Logan is the type to 'take care of' someone?"

She smirked. "He already is. He’s just doing it in his own way. And trust me, the way he looks at you? There’s more there than you realize. You just have to stop overthinking it."

Before you could respond, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Emma stood up, giving you one last knowing smile before heading for the door. "Just think about it, Y/N. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them."

You watched her go, your mind still swirling with doubt and a tiny sliver of hope. Could there really be something more between you and Logan? Or was it just your imagination?

As your students started filing back into the room, you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the rest of the day. But even as you taught your lessons and graded papers, Logan lingered in the back of your mind.

---

Later that evening, you found yourself in the garden, pulling weeds and trying to clear your head. The sun was starting to set, casting a warm orange glow over the small town. You liked this time of day—the quiet, the calm.

Just as you were settling into the rhythm of pulling weeds, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan standing there, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

"Need any help?" he asked, his gruff voice breaking the silence.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Uh, with the garden? I’m just pulling weeds."

He shrugged, stepping closer. "Doesn’t hurt to have an extra set of hands."

You smiled, feeling a bit awkward but oddly touched by the offer. "Sure, if you’re up for it."

Logan crouched down next to you, pulling at the weeds without saying much. The two of you worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the rustling of plants and the distant hum of traffic.

Eventually, you spoke up, trying to break the tension. "So... Laura’s been doing well in class. She’s quiet, but I think she’s starting to come out of her shell a bit."

Logan glanced at you, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Yeah? That’s good to hear. She doesn’t talk much at home either."

"She’s a smart kid," you added, pulling another weed. "But I think... she could use someone to talk to. Someone she feels safe with."

Logan was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "She’s been through a lot. Trust doesn’t come easy for her."

You hesitated, then asked, "What about you? Do you feel safe here?"

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. "Safer than I’ve felt in a long time."

That simple admission hit you harder than you expected. Logan, this gruff, guarded man, was letting his walls down, even just a little. It made your heart ache in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

"That’s good," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his. "I’m glad."

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The quiet between you felt heavy but not uncomfortable. Logan’s presence was grounding, solid in a way that made you feel... safe too.

Finally, he broke the silence. "I appreciate what you’ve done for Laura. She doesn’t trust many people, but with you... it’s different."

You shrugged, trying to downplay it. "I’m just doing my job. She’s a good kid, like I said."

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. "It’s more than that. She trusts you. And... so do I."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. There was something unspoken in the air between you, something neither of you was ready to address. But it was there, simmering just below the surface.

"Logan, I—"

Before you could finish, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands. "Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it."

You stood up too, feeling the weight of what was left unsaid hanging in the air. "Thanks for the help."

He gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he turned to leave. "Anytime."

As you watched him walk away, your heart was pounding in your chest. There was no denying it now—there was something between you and Logan. Something real. And it scared you just as much as it excited you.

---

Parent-teacher conferences always stressed you out. Gathering all your students’ information, organizing it all, it was hectic and unreasonable. You couldn’t understand why an email didn’t suffice.

Possibly the worst thing about it is the fact it took place in the school gym, which had no AC. The heat was almost unbearable, making your clothes stick to your skin as you shuffled through your notes, waiting for the next parent to arrive to your table.

The gym was packed, parents and their kids moving between tables as they talked to teachers, making the already stifling room feel even hotter. You fanned yourself with the stack of notes you’d organized earlier, feeling sweat prickle at your back.

You glanced at your list of appointments, sighing when you saw who was next: Logan. You hadn't expected him to come. Laura was doing well enough in your class, but she wasn’t exactly the type to care about grades. You figured Logan would be the same—practical, but not overly concerned about school meetings.

You straightened up, glancing around to see him approaching with Laura by his side. She looked slightly uncomfortable, her arms crossed and her gaze focused anywhere but the gym, while Logan was, well... Logan. His expression was gruff, unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that softened when he saw you.

“Ms. Aberra,” Logan greeted as he reached your table, giving you a nod.

“Logan,” you said, smiling at Laura. “And Laura. How are you two doing?”

Laura shrugged, barely meeting your gaze. Logan pulled out the chair for her, and she reluctantly sat down, still quiet. He stayed standing, leaning on the back of the chair, watching you with that familiar intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said lightly, trying to ease the tension. “Laura’s doing fine in class. Really, there’s not much to talk about.”

Logan glanced at Laura, then back at you. “Figured I’d come by anyway. See how things are goin’.”

You nodded, pulling up Laura’s grades on your tablet. “Well, like I said, she’s doing great. She’s one of the best in the class, actually. Quiet, but I can tell she’s always thinking.”

Laura’s face remained impassive, but there was the slightest twitch of a smile at the corner of her lips.

“She’s got potential,” you continued, looking at Logan. “Especially in science. I think she’d be great at anything she wanted to do, honestly.”

Logan grunted in response, but there was a proud glint in his eye. “That’s good to hear.”

Laura finally spoke up, her voice quiet but clear. “I like science. And math.”

You smiled, surprised by her willingness to engage. “Well, you’re really good at it. I was thinking, if you ever wanted, there are some extracurriculars coming up. Science club, math competitions—stuff like that. It might be fun.”

Laura glanced at Logan, who simply shrugged. “Up to you, kid.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded slightly. “Maybe.”

“Well, no pressure,” you said, trying to keep it casual. “You can always decide later.”

There was an awkward pause as you flipped through the rest of Laura’s grades, though there wasn’t much else to say. She was excelling, especially considering her background. You couldn’t help but feel a little protective over her, knowing what she’d been through.

“So, uh, anything else you need to know?” you asked, looking back up at Logan.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to check in, make sure she’s on track.”

You smiled, feeling the warmth in his words even if he didn’t show it. “She’s doing great. Really.”

Logan gave you a brief nod, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary before he straightened up. “Thanks.”

You watched as he turned to Laura, ready to leave, but she didn’t stand just yet. Instead, she glanced between the two of you, her brow furrowed slightly like she was piecing something together.

“Are you... friends?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise of the gym.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. Logan seemed just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly before he quickly recovered.

“Well,” you said slowly, glancing at Logan for a cue. “I guess you could say that.”

Logan cleared his throat, crossing his arms. “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

Laura’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she didn’t quite believe it but wasn’t going to argue. “Okay.”

She stood up, her chair scraping against the floor as she started toward the exit. Logan hesitated for a moment, giving you one last look before following her. “See you around,” he said, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You watched them go, feeling that strange mix of emotions again—the warmth, the uncertainty, the possibility of something more. As the door closed behind them, you realized that, for once, you didn’t mind the heat. It was a small town, and people noticed everything. But you were starting to wonder if maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

Laura grabbed his hand as they exited the gym, having already seen her other teachers. She looked up at Logan, as he stared straight ahead at the truck in the parking lot. “Creo que ella te gusta.”

He let out a huff, “kid, don’t know how many times I gotta say it, but I don’t know Spanish.”

Laura gave him a sidelong glance, clearly unimpressed by his response. "You should learn," she muttered under her breath, squeezing his hand as they reached the truck.

Logan grunted as he fumbled for the keys, a slight wince crossing his features as he slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced at Laura, who was already buckling herself in without a word. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t quite easy either.

He turned the key in the ignition, the truck sputtering to life as he pulled out of the parking lot. His mind wandered back to the parent-teacher conference, and specifically to Y/N. She’d always been good with Laura, he could see that. But lately, something about her seemed to calm him too—a feeling he wasn’t used to and didn’t quite know how to handle.

“You like her,” Laura said, breaking the silence with her blunt observation. It wasn’t a question.

Logan’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “She’s a good teacher. You like her, too.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You act different when she’s around. You don’t growl as much.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, though it lacked any real humor. “I don’t growl.”

“Yes, you do,” Laura said, looking out the window. “But not at her.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead, he focused on the road, trying to push away the thoughts circling in his mind. He wasn’t a man used to... feelings, especially not ones that left him unsure. But Y/N had a way of sneaking under his defenses, and that scared him more than he’d like to admit.

“I like her,” Laura said quietly after a long stretch of silence.

Logan glanced at her, surprised by the soft admission. Laura didn’t trust people easily, and she certainly didn’t like many. But her words carried weight, especially to him.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Laura nodded, still looking out the window. “She’s not like the others. She doesn’t treat me like I’m different.”

Logan felt a knot in his chest loosen, though he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the relief of knowing Laura had found someone she trusted, or maybe it was the way Y/N had already become a part of their lives, without him even realizing it. Either way, he didn’t say anything more, just drove the rest of the way home in silence, lost in his own thoughts.

---

The next morning, you thanked the stars that it was Saturday. You were exhausted from the large amount of human interaction last night and decided to sleep in a bit before tending to the garden.

After that, and taking a shower, you slipped into comfortable clothes, some small shorts and a large t-shirt that covered the shorts, since it only getting warmer outside.

Even with that said, you couldn’t help but crave chocolate chip cookies, thanking the stars once again that you had all the ingredients.

You turned on the oven, allowing it to pre-heat, as you grabbed a mixing bowl and walked around your small kitchen looking for the ingredients listed on your worn-out piece of paper. You still hadn’t memorized the recipe after making it for years.

The doorbell ringed as you poked your head out the side of your kitchen. When you answered it, you were pleasantly surprised to find Laura outside, wearing what you could only describe as a cute grey shirt with a colorful bear on it. You’d never say it to her, she’d probably leave if you said she looked cute.

“Hey, Laura. D’you need anything?”

“Daddy said I could help with the garden.” She spoke softly.

“Oof, sorry kiddo. Already did it this morning.” You looked back inside your house before turning back to Laura, “though, I could use some help making cookies.”

Laura hesitated for a second, her dark eyes studying you as if trying to decide whether this was worth her time. You were still getting used to her quiet, guarded nature, but you’d learned quickly that she was different around you compared to other people. It was like you had some sort of unspoken understanding, even if you didn’t fully get why.

“Okay,” she finally said, stepping past you into the house.

You closed the door behind her, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a second mixing bowl. “You ever make cookies before?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at her.

Laura shook her head, standing by the counter as she watched you.

“Well, today’s your lucky day. I’m about to show you the magic of sugar, butter, and chocolate chips.” You grinned as you started measuring out the ingredients. “Can you hand me the brown sugar?”

She scanned the countertop before reaching for the brown sugar, silently passing it to you. You got the feeling she wasn’t used to this kind of thing—normal, mundane stuff like baking cookies on a lazy Saturday. Not that you knew her whole story or anything, but you’d heard enough about Logan and his complicated life to guess Laura hadn’t had a typical upbringing.

As you started mixing the butter and sugar together, you tried to think of something to say. Conversations with Laura could be tricky; she wasn’t the chatty type, and you didn’t want to push her too much.

“So,” you started, keeping your tone casual, “what’s Logan up to today?”

She shrugged. “Resting.”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Logan resting was a good thing. You knew he’d been having a rough time lately with his health, even though he wasn’t the type to admit it. You figured he was just being stubborn, refusing to slow down even though it was clear his healing wasn’t what it used to be.

Laura remained silent, watching as you added the flour to the mix.

“You wanna stir?” you asked, offering her the spatula.

She looked at it for a moment before stepping closer and taking it from you. Her movements were careful, deliberate, and you couldn’t help but smile as she focused on the task.

“Nice job,” you said, giving her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a future in cookie-making, I can tell.”

Laura didn’t react much, but you swore you saw the tiniest flicker of amusement in her eyes.

As she stirred, you reached for the chocolate chips. “Best part of making cookies—sneaking a few of these before they go in the dough.” You tossed a couple into your mouth, then held the bag out to her.

She paused, looking at the chocolate chips like she wasn’t sure what to do. After a second, she picked one up and ate it, chewing thoughtfully.

You chuckled. “See? Told you it’s the best part.”

Laura kept stirring the dough while you got the baking sheets ready. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… quiet. You didn’t mind it, though. Laura wasn’t the type of kid who needed constant conversation, and you appreciated that about her.

As she worked, you glanced at her again, feeling a strange sense of protectiveness. You didn’t know what exactly she’d been through, but whatever it was, you could tell it had shaped her into someone far older than her years.

When the dough was ready, you started scooping it onto the trays. “Almost done,” you said. “Then it’s just a waiting game while they bake.”

Laura nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she watched you.

You slid the trays into the oven and set the timer before turning back to her. “You want some water or anything while we wait?”

She shook her head, her eyes still on the oven like she was trying to figure out why people made such a big deal out of cookies.

“Well, I’m grabbing a drink.” You poured yourself a glass of water, leaning against the counter as you sipped. “It’ll take around 12 minutes for them to finish. Then we put in another batch, and another until the dough has all been used.”

Laura gave a small nod, her eyes still focused on the oven. It was like she was trying to figure out if all this waiting was actually worth it.

You studied her for a moment, wondering what was going on in that head of hers. She never really said much, but it was clear there was a lot happening behind those dark, watchful eyes. You weren’t exactly sure why she’d taken to you, but you were grateful for it. Laura didn’t let many people in, that much was obvious.

“I can show you a movie. Or maybe some music? I usually play somethin’ while I wait.”

Laura glanced up at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Music,” she said quietly.

You smiled, glad she was at least open to that. “Cool. Let’s see what we got.” You pulled out your phone and scrolled through your playlist, landing on something mellow, nothing too upbeat or distracting. You hit play, letting the soft sounds of a guitar fill the room.

Laura leaned against the counter, listening, her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn’t fidgety or impatient, just quiet, like she was absorbing everything around her.

You took another sip of water, watching her from the corner of your eye. “You ever help Logan with stuff like this? Like cooking?”

She shook her head. “No.”

You figured as much. “Well, if he ever asks, you’ll be a pro now.” You winked at her, earning the tiniest of shrugs in return.

You both stood there in a comfortable silence, letting the music play. It wasn’t awkward, just… peaceful. The smell of the cookies starting to bake filled the kitchen, and for a moment, it was easy to forget all the heavy stuff hanging in the air—Logan’s health, Laura’s past, whatever weight she carried that you didn’t fully understand yet.

After a few minutes, Laura spoke up. “I talked to Logan about you… last night.”

You paused, surprised she’d bring it up. “Oh yeah? What’d he say?”

She didn’t answer right away, her gaze fixed on the oven. “He said you’re... different from other people. In a good way.”

A warmth crept into your chest at that. “Well, that’s nice of him to say. I think he’s pretty different too, you know. In a good way.”

Laura looked at you, her expression unreadable. “He likes you,” she said, her tone flat, but there was something in the way she said it, like it was a fact she was still processing.

You felt your cheeks heat up a little. “Yeah? Well… I like him too.”

She stared at you for a moment longer before nodding slowly, like she was piecing something together in her head. “He doesn’t trust people. But he trusts you.”

You swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. “I’m glad he does. I mean… I care about him, Laura. And you too.”

Laura’s eyes flickered with something—maybe understanding, maybe something else you couldn’t quite name. She didn’t say anything for a while, just looked down at the floor.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the oven timer beeped, cutting through the moment.

“Cookies are done,” you said, turning to grab the oven mitts. You pulled the trays out, setting them on the counter to cool. The smell was even stronger now, warm and sweet, filling the entire kitchen. “Wanna taste test one?”

Laura hesitated for a second before nodding.

You carefully lifted a cookie from the tray, holding it out to her. “Careful, it’s hot.”

She took it, blowing on it before taking a small bite. You watched as she chewed, her face still neutral, but you could tell she liked it.

“Good, right?” you asked, biting into one yourself.

Laura nodded again, chewing slowly. For a split second, you thought you saw a hint of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth, but it was gone just as quickly as it came.

As you both stood there, munching on cookies, the air felt lighter, like some kind of invisible barrier between you had shifted just a little. You didn’t know all of Laura’s story, but you didn’t need to. What mattered was that she was here, sharing this small moment with you, and that was enough.

“So,” you said after a few minutes, breaking the silence. “What should we do next? More cookies? Or maybe try out that movie?”

Laura looked at the remaining dough, then back at you. “More cookies.”

You grinned. “Good choice. Let’s make this batch even better.”

---

After all the cookies came out of the oven, you sent Laura home with a container of some of the batch. You could never eat them all on your own, and you ended up giving some away anyways, so why not give some to Laura?

You walked Laura to your front door and watched as she crossed the street, her figure disappearing behind the door three houses down. There was always something surreal about the way she moved—so quiet, so controlled, like she had learned to blend into the background. It made you wonder what her life had been like before coming here.

When Laura walked in, the container held tightly to her chest, Logan sat on the couch, the soft murmur of the TV barely audible as he sipped from a whiskey bottle. His eyes flicked over to her as the door clicked shut behind her.

“You were gone a while,” he muttered, his voice rough but not harsh.

Laura shrugged, walking past him toward the kitchen. “Made cookies.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, watching her disappear from view. The faint clinking of a container hitting the counter reached his ears. He knew she didn’t do stuff like this unless someone dragged her into it. “With Y/N?” he asked, taking another sip.

Laura reappeared, nodding as she plopped down beside him on the couch, the container of cookies now on the coffee table.

Logan stared at it for a moment, then gave a small grunt of approval. He reached over and grabbed a cookie from the container, breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness that felt out of place in his usual world of bitterness and whiskey.

“Not bad,” he muttered, glancing at Laura. “You help with these?”

She shrugged again, still watching the TV, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Logan.

“Hmm,” he grunted, leaning back. “Maybe next time, you can bring some whiskey to wash ‘em down.”

Laura didn’t smile, but her lips twitched slightly as if she was trying not to.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, the low hum of the TV filling the room. Logan’s thoughts drifted back to Y/N. He didn’t trust people easily—never had, and probably never would. But Y/N was different. He’d seen how she handled Laura, how she didn’t push too hard or ask too many questions. And she was patient, something Logan knew he didn’t have much of.

“Y/N’s a good one,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Laura didn’t say anything, but she shifted slightly, leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

Logan watched her for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. He knew settling down wasn’t really in his nature, but for Laura’s sake—and maybe a bit for his own—he was trying. And Y/N? She made that easier, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“She ask about me?” Logan asked, more curious than he wanted to let on.

Laura nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah. I told her you were resting.”

Logan snorted. “Resting. That’s a nice way of putting it.”

Laura didn’t respond, and Logan didn’t push further. He knew what Y/N probably thought—that he was just some grumpy guy with a limp, maybe a few too many scars for comfort. She didn’t know the half of it. But she didn’t pry either, and for that, he was grateful.

“Guess I’ll have to thank her for the cookies,” Logan said after a while, taking another sip from the bottle. His mind wandered to the thought of Y/N—the way she smiled when she was around Laura, how she always seemed to have the right balance of patience and understanding. It wasn’t just anyone who could handle a kid like Laura, let alone make her feel comfortable enough to bake cookies on a Saturday.

“She likes you too, you know,” Laura said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Logan’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Y/N,” Laura clarified, her tone as flat as ever. “She likes you.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a bit of discomfort behind it. “You don’t know that, kid.”

Laura looked at him, her gaze piercing and a little too wise for someone her age. “She does. I can tell.”

Logan stared back at her, caught off guard by how matter-of-fact she sounded. It was hard to argue with Laura when she had that look on her face, the same look that said she saw through everything and didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

He cleared his throat, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well… that’s her problem, not mine.”

Laura didn’t react, just turned back to the TV. But Logan could feel her eyes on him for a few seconds longer before she settled back into the cushions.

Logan shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Laura’s words hanging in the air. He wasn’t used to people ‘liking’ him in the way Laura seemed to imply. People tolerated him, sure, maybe even respected him, but liking him? That was new territory.

He let out a sigh and reached for another cookie. It wasn’t worth thinking about. Not right now.

But even as he chewed in silence, he couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N—and what it might mean if Laura was right.

---

A few days later, you found yourself at Logan’s house helping Laura with some of her English homework. You usually don’t make ‘house calls’ to help students, but you couldn’t deny Laura.

Logan stayed seated in the living room, drinking a beer and watching the TV. But really, he was pretending not to listen to their conversation in the kitchen.

“You’re doing good, Laura.” You said.

Laura shrugged, her eyes flicking over to Logan in the living room. “Can you stay for dinner?” She asked you.

Logan’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t expected Laura to ask, but there was no denying that the kid had gotten attached to you. Before you could answer, Laura added, “I made something. With Logan.”

That was a lie, of course. Laura had barely touched the stove since the cookies, but she gave Logan a look that told him to back her up.

Y/N smiled softly. “I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” She glanced at Logan. “If that’s okay?”

Logan grunted, shifting his weight. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

Laura gave a small nod, clearly satisfied with the answer. You smiled, pushing the papers aside. “Guess I’m staying for dinner, then.”

Logan shot Laura a look, one that said what exactly are we eating? but she ignored him, turning her attention back to you. “It’s nothing fancy,” she said, which wasn’t reassuring.

“Well, I’m excited. Food always tastes better when someone else cooks it,” you joked, standing up to stretch your arms.

Logan watched you from the corner of his eye as he sat back down on the couch, pretending to be more interested in the muted TV than he actually was. You couldn’t help but notice the way he seemed a little tenser whenever you were around, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He was trying to stay low-key, but you could tell he was keeping tabs on every move you made, every word you said.

“So, what’s on the menu?” you asked, trying to ease the quiet that had settled over the room.

Laura, sitting across from you, didn’t answer right away, like she was carefully considering her next move. Logan’s eyes flicked over to her, waiting for her response.

“Spaghetti,” she finally said, her voice as flat as ever.

You raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smile. “Oh yeah? Sounds good.”

Logan gave a low grunt from the couch, and you could tell by his expression that he was trying to figure out when they’d supposedly made spaghetti. But he didn’t contradict Laura, just took another swig from his beer.

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” you said, standing up from the kitchen table. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Laura didn’t say anything, just headed to the stove where a pot of water was already simmering. You followed her, glancing at the nearly-empty box of spaghetti on the counter. It was clear she hadn’t done this a lot, but the effort was what mattered. And if it meant spending more time with her—and Logan—you weren’t about to complain.

“I’ll get the sauce going,” you offered, stepping beside her. Laura gave you a slight nod, sliding over to make room.

Logan watched from the couch, his eyes narrowing as if he was weighing the situation. He hadn’t expected you to just roll with it, but then again, you always had a way of adapting.

“So, how’s school?” you asked Laura, trying to keep the conversation light while you opened the jar of sauce.

“It’s fine,” she said, her tone noncommittal.

You stirred the sauce, giving a little shrug. “Well, if you ever need help with any other type of homework, you know where to find me.”

She glanced up at you, her expression unreadable, but something in her eyes softened for a second. “I know.”

The two of you worked in quiet sync, with Laura focusing on the pasta and you keeping an eye on the sauce. It wasn’t long before the kitchen started to smell of tomatoes and garlic, the scent filling the air and making the small space feel cozy. For a while, the only sounds were the bubbling pot and the clinking of utensils.

Logan shifted on the couch, clearing his throat. “Need me to do anything?”

You glanced back at him with a smile. “Just sit there and look pretty, Logan. We’ve got this.”

A low chuckle escaped him, though his face didn’t change much. “That so?”

Laura glanced at Logan, her expression unreadable, but you caught the briefest hint of approval in her eyes before she turned back to stirring the pasta.

Once everything was ready, you and Laura brought the food to the small dining table. You plated up the spaghetti, topping it with sauce and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Logan joined you both, moving slower than he probably realized, and sat down with a grunt.

As you all ate, the room stayed comfortably quiet. It wasn’t one of those forced silences that felt awkward—it was more like everyone was just settling into the moment. Laura was still guarded, but you could tell she was starting to relax, even if it was just a little.

“You did good, Laura,” you said, twirling some spaghetti on your fork. “This tastes great.”

She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, but you saw her shoulders ease up ever so slightly.

Logan, on the other hand, glanced between the two of you, chewing slowly. He hadn’t been big on cooking or anything domestic like this, but he could tell Laura had put in effort. He took another bite, grunting his approval. “Not bad,” he said quietly.

You smiled to yourself. This whole thing wasn’t exactly what you’d planned for the evening, but it was nice in its own way—just simple, like normal people having dinner together.

As you were finishing up, Logan pushed his chair back, grabbing his beer bottle from the table. “I’ll handle the cleanup,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind.

You raised an eyebrow, standing to gather a few plates. “You sure?”

Logan waved you off. “Yeah. Laura and I got it.”

You nodded, stepping back. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.”

Laura watched you quietly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Logan. You could tell she wasn’t used to this kind of thing, the casual ease of sharing a meal and cleaning up afterward. But she was learning, and it seemed like she didn’t mind having you around for it.

“Well,” you said, grabbing your bag from the chair. “Thanks for dinner, you two. I’ll see you around?”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment, giving you a nod. Laura followed you to the door, her small figure standing by your side as you reached for the handle.

Before you could leave, she spoke up. “Will you come over again?” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

You smiled softly. “Of course. Anytime.”

She nodded, her face still unreadable, but there was a certain calmness to her now, a trust that hadn’t been there before.

You gave her a little wave before stepping out into the evening air. As you walked back to your house, you couldn’t help but think about how unexpected this had all been.

---

You muttered to yourself, hanging up the phone. Your sink had started to leak, and even though you were fairly handy, when you tightened the pipes, it did nothing.

So here you were, on your lunch break, looking for a handyman that didn’t want to charge you $200 for a quick fix.

Emma walked in, holding a folder with her lesson plans. “So…”

You rolled your eyes, “don’t start.”

“What! I’ve told you, word travels fast. Rose saw you leavin’ his house last night.”

“Rose?” You shook your head, “that woman is 85 and still gossips like she’s 20.” You put your phone down, “I was helping Laura with her English homework.”

"Helping Laura with her English homework?" Emma raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "You mean, at ten o'clock at night? Sure, Y/N."

You groaned, leaning back in your chair. “It wasn’t like that. She’s struggling with some of the writing prompts, and Logan’s... well, you know he’s not exactly the best person for that.”

“Uh-huh,” Emma nodded slowly, setting her folder down. “I’m just saying, you and him… there’s something there. You can deny it all you want, but people see things.”

“People need hobbies,” you muttered. “Besides, Logan’s... complicated. It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying it is,” she shrugged. “But you’ve been spending more and more time with him and Laura lately. I’m just curious.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at her. “Curious about what, exactly?”

“Just curious when you're going to admit you like him,” Emma smirked.

“I don’t—" you started to argue, but stopped yourself. “Emma, he’s… I mean, I care about him, but it’s not like that. He’s a single dad with a kid, and I’m just the neighbor who helps out sometimes.”

“Yeah, sure, Y/N.” Emma grabbed her folder and gave you a pointed look, “if you don’t make a move, someone on the ‘Wolverine Watchers’ will.”

You choked on the iced coffee you took a sip of, “the what?”

Emma grinned, “the ‘Wolverine Watchers’. A bunch of women in the town created a Facebook group about him. I joined out of curiosity.”

You blinked at Emma, still processing what she’d just said. “Hold on—there’s a Facebook group about Logan? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” Emma said with a smug smile. “They call themselves the ‘Wolverine Watchers.’ There’s, like, at least 30 women in it. Maybe more.”

You shook your head in disbelief, sinking back into your chair. “That’s insane. Why would anyone even...”

“Oh, please,” Emma interrupted. “Don’t act like you don’t get it. He’s rugged, mysterious, barely speaks to anyone, and he’s got the whole grumpy-silver-fox thing going on. They eat it up. Hell, even I get it.”

You glared at her. “You’re not helping.”

She leaned against the desk, still grinning. “Just saying, don’t wait too long, or one of them might swoop in.”

You waved her off, though a part of you felt oddly defensive about the whole thing. “Logan’s not interested in any of that.”

Emma shrugged, pushing off the desk and heading for the door. “Maybe. Maybe not. But are you interested?”

You opened your mouth to respond before shaking your head. “Okay. I’m going to forget this part of our conversation and continue to try and look for a plumber or handyman.”

Emma laughed, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Fine, fine. But if you need help with Logan or plumbing, you know where to find me.”

She left the room at the same time Laura walked in. She walked over to the front of your desk and stared at you with those eyes of hers. “You need help?” Laura finally asked.

You shook your head, “no. Just need a plumber. The sink in my kitchen is leakin’.”

Laura tilted her head slightly, considering something. “Why don’t you ask daddy?”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Because your dad’s busy, and it’s not his problem to deal with. I’ll figure it out.”

“He fixed the dishwasher last week,” she pointed out quietly, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “And the dryer.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to bother him with stuff like this,” you countered, trying to ignore how her face lit up every time she mentioned something Logan had done for you. “I’m sure he’s got enough on his plate.”

Laura didn’t respond right away. Instead, she leaned against your desk, her small fingers tapping lightly on the wood. “He likes helping,” she murmured, almost like she was testing the waters.

You looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, but quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the bulletin board behind you. “He’s good at fixing things.”

You watched her for a moment, your irritation from earlier starting to melt away. It was hard to stay frustrated when she was being so earnest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But your dad doesn’t need to be the town’s go-to handyman.”

Laura glanced up at you through her lashes. “Just tell him. Please?”

There was something almost… hopeful in her gaze, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Laura wasn’t the type to ask for much. If this meant that much to her…

“Fine,” you sighed, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’ll ask him. But only because you asked nicely.”

Laura’s lips twitched in the faintest smile, a look of victory crossing her face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you’re not off the hook yet,” you teased gently. “You still owe me an essay on Newton’s laws of motion, remember?”

She scrunched up her nose, making a face. “I know. I’ll finish it.”

“Good,” you nodded, giving her a playful wink. “And don’t go trying to bribe me with homework just to get me to talk to your dad, okay?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “I would never.”

“Uh-huh,” you said skeptically. “Alright, head back to class. Lunch is almost over.”

She gave a small nod, then glanced back at you before leaving. “He really likes you, you know.”

Your heart stuttered, caught off guard by her bluntness. “Laura—”

“Just saying,” she added quickly before ducking out the door and heading down the hallway.

You stared at the empty doorway, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Liking you? What did that even mean coming from an eleven-year-old?

You shook your head, trying to push the thought away. Logan was… well, Logan. Gruff, quiet, and often impossible to read. And sure, he’d been more present lately, but that didn’t mean anything. He was just being a good neighbor.

You glanced at the time on your phone, groaning softly. Lunch was almost over, and you hadn’t even finished setting up for the afternoon class.

“Guess I’ll ask him about the sink,” you muttered under your breath, more to convince yourself than anything.

Because if Laura was already noticing things, how long would it be before the whole town started talking?

---

That evening, after school had ended and you’d finally managed to get through the rest of your lesson plans, you found yourself standing in front of Logan’s place. It was only a short walk down the street, and yet, your feet felt heavier with each step.

You could hear the faint sound of a TV through the open window and the soft murmur of voices—Laura and Logan, probably talking about her day. It was… nice. Domestic. Something that made your chest tighten with an inexplicable emotion.

“Just ask about the sink and go,” you whispered to yourself, giving a firm nod. “No big deal.”

You knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal Logan. He was in his usual attire—flannel shirt, jeans—and he looked at you with that same unreadable expression.

“Hey,” you said, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze. “I, uh, wanted to ask for a favor.”

His brow furrowed slightly, and he stepped back, gesturing for you to come inside. “What’s goin’ on?”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath. “My kitchen sink started leaking, and… well, I tried fixing it, but I think I made it worse. Laura said you’re good at this kind of stuff, so I thought… maybe…”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You want me to take a look at it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly. “If you’re not too busy. I don’t want to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, already grabbing a toolbox from a nearby shelf. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. “Wait, you don’t want to, like, finish dinner or something first?”

He shot you a look that was almost amused. “I’m not gonna let your kitchen flood because of a sink. C’mon.”

You let out a small laugh, relieved by his reaction. “Okay, fair point. Thanks, Logan.”

“No problem,” he grunted, stepping out onto the porch. “Lead the way.”

As you walked back to your place, you stole a glance at him. Logan might have been gruff and intimidating to most people, but you’d come to learn there was more to him than that.

When you reached your house, Logan set to work immediately, inspecting the pipes under the sink. You leaned against the counter, watching as he tinkered and adjusted, his movements methodical and precise.

“You didn’t have to come over right away,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I know you’ve got a lot going on.”

He didn’t look up, just shrugged. “It’s fine. Better to fix it now than let it get worse.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you murmured. “But still… thanks.”

Logan glanced at you then, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than usual. “You don’t gotta thank me every time I do somethin’ for you, Y/N.”

“I know,” you replied, offering a small smile. “But I want to.”

He gave a low grunt, something between acknowledgment and dismissal, and returned his focus to the pipes. You stayed silent, watching him work, trying to make yourself useful by occasionally handing him a tool or holding a flashlight.

“You’ve done this before, huh?” you asked, breaking the silence again.

Logan didn’t look up, but you saw the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Couple times.”

“Fixing sinks?” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Or just everything?”

“Everything,” he muttered. “You learn to handle stuff when no one else can.”

There was an unspoken weight behind his words, something you didn’t pry into. You knew Logan had been through more than he let on—there were pieces of his life you still hadn’t put together, and you weren’t sure you ever would. But that didn’t stop you from being curious.

Instead, you chose to keep the conversation light. “Well, I appreciate it. I probably would’ve made a bigger mess if I’d kept trying.”

He grunted again, this time almost in agreement, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Okay, I walked into that one,” you admitted. “But seriously, thank you. Laura was right—you are good at this.”

Logan tightened the last pipe and stood, wiping his hands on a rag. “She talks too much sometimes.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “She’s just proud of you.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes darkening for a brief moment before he shifted the subject. “It’s done. Shouldn’t leak anymore, but if it does, just call me.”

You nodded, feeling that strange tightening in your chest again. “Got it. Thanks again.”

Logan grabbed his toolbox and started for the door, but something in the air between you both felt unfinished, like there was something unspoken hanging there. Before you could second-guess yourself, you called out.

“Logan?”

He paused, his back to you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” you continued, a little more quietly this time. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to add to it. But I appreciate you helping me.”

Logan turned, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place. For a second, you thought he might say something, but then he just gave a slow nod.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N,” he finally said. “If you need somethin’, I’ll be around.”

He turned and walked out the door, leaving you standing in your kitchen, staring after him. You exhaled, feeling a mix of confusion and warmth.

Later that evening, as you cleaned up and prepared for the next day’s lessons, you couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in your head. Logan’s quietness, his willingness to help, Laura’s knowing smiles. There was something stirring there, something more than just neighborly concern.

But you pushed the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of the practicalities. Logan was a single dad with a complicated past, and you… well, you had your own life to focus on. This wasn’t the time to start overthinking things.

Still, as you drifted off to sleep that night, the image of Logan fixing your sink—focused, calm, and oddly comforting—stayed with you.

---

You’ve never liked storms. You’re not sure why, you grew up in Houston where it rained consistently and encountered a few hurricanes.

But when you turned 18, you went to college further north in Texas, getting away from the rain and finally getting sunshine and real heat, not humid heat.

It never rained much in the north of Minnesota, but when it did rain, it rained a lot. So much so that the school cancelled classes for the rest of the week.

You could use the time to catch up on grading assignments, but instead you found yourself barely able to keep your attention on the TV, flinching every time you heard thunder.

The storm outside raged on, lightning flashing every few seconds, followed by the rumble of thunder that rattled the windows. You glanced at the stack of papers you’d set aside to grade, but your mind just wasn’t in it.

“Why does it always feel worse at night?” you muttered, sinking deeper into the couch, trying to focus on the TV.

Then, a knock at the door startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone, especially with the weather this bad.

You got up, hesitating for a second before opening the door to reveal Laura, soaked from head to toe, holding a small flashlight.

“Laura? What are you doing out here?” you asked, eyes wide with concern.

“Our power went out,” she explained quickly, shivering slightly. “Daddy said I could come over here since your lights are still on.”

You frowned, glancing past her toward Logan’s house, which was barely visible in the heavy rain. “Is your dad coming over too?”

Laura shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “He said he’d figure it out.”

You closed the door behind her, grabbing a towel from the bathroom and handing it to her. “You should’ve just called, you know. I would’ve come to get you.”

Laura gave you a small smile as she dried off. “It’s fine. I didn’t want to wait.”

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile at her stubbornness. “Of course you didn’t.”

The two of you sat in the living room for a while, Laura settling into the corner of the couch with her legs tucked under her, still glancing out the window at the storm every so often.

“How long’s the power been out?” you asked after a few minutes.

“Since just after dinner,” she replied. “Daddy was gonna try and fix it, but he said it might take a while.”

You nodded, already feeling a little guilty. If the power didn’t come back on soon, you’d probably end up with both of them staying over. Not that you minded, but it was one of those situations where you didn’t want to impose. Especially with Logan.

Almost on cue, there was another knock at the door, this one heavier, more deliberate.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was Logan.

You opened the door to find him standing there, drenched like Laura had been. His hair was plastered to his head, and his usual gruff expression was softened slightly by the rain dripping from his face.

“Come on in,” you said quickly, stepping aside.

Logan entered, shaking off some of the rain before giving you a nod. “Thanks. Power’s out, and I don’t think it’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

You closed the door behind him and offered him a towel, which he accepted without a word. He glanced over at Laura, who had made herself comfortable on the couch, and then back at you.

“You alright with us bein’ here?” he asked, his voice low but genuine.

“Of course,” you replied, waving it off. “I’m not gonna let you sit in the dark with no heat.”

Logan nodded, though there was something in his eyes—something like gratitude, though he didn’t voice it.

The three of you sat in the living room for a while, the storm still raging outside. It wasn’t exactly the most comfortable silence, but it wasn’t awkward either. Just... quiet. Logan wasn’t one for small talk, and Laura seemed content just to be around people, her gaze flicking back and forth between you and her dad.

As the night wore on, the storm didn’t let up, and Laura’s eyelids started to droop. You glanced at the clock, noting how late it was getting.

“You’re welcome to stay the night,” you offered, glancing between them. “It’s still coming down pretty hard out there, and I don’t think the power’s coming back on soon.”

Laura perked up at the suggestion, but Logan hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “We’ll be fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Don’t wanna impose.”

“You’re not imposing,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “There’s a guest bedroom, and I’ve got blankets. Besides, I’m not letting either of you walk back in this mess.”

Laura, sensing her opportunity, chimed in before Logan could object. “I want to stay,” she said quietly, her eyes big and hopeful.

Logan sighed, glancing at his daughter, clearly torn. “Laura…”

“Daddy, it’s still storming,” she added, her voice soft but insistent. “We can stay, right?”

You jumped in before he could refuse. “It’s no trouble, Logan. Really. Laura can take the guest bedroom, and I can sleep on the couch.”

Logan gave you a skeptical look. “You’re not sleepin’ on the couch in your own house.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s your bed,” he grunted. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before you could argue, Laura piped up again, her voice full of innocent mischief. “You could both sleep in the bed.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly glanced at Logan, whose expression had shifted to one of slight surprise.

“Laura,” you started, but she just shrugged, clearly enjoying this more than she should have been.

“What?” she said innocently. “It’s a big bed.”

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re not helpin’, kid.”

Laura just grinned, her eyes gleaming with quiet victory. “I think I am.”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m fine with sleepin’ on the couch, really. Can’t really sleep when it’s stormin’ anyways.”

Laura, still lounging on the couch, piped up again, her grin growing wider. “You could just share the bed.”

Your face flushed, and you shot her a look. “Laura—”

“What?” She shrugged, playing innocent, but you could see the hint of mischief in her eyes.

Logan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Kid, stop messin’ around.”

She held up her hands in surrender, but the teasing smile on her face didn’t budge. “I’m just saying it’s an option.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Laura, you’re gonna sleep in the guest room. I’ll be on the couch. End of story.”

Laura rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “Fine.”

Logan glanced at you, his eyes softening for a brief moment before he muttered, “You sure about this? I don’t wanna take your bed.”

You waved him off, trying to sound casual. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Just get some rest. You’ve been out in the rain long enough.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod. “Alright. But only because you won’t stop arguin’.”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling a little as you grabbed an extra blanket from the hallway closet and tossed it to Laura. “You can get settled in the guest room, kiddo.”

Laura caught the blanket and headed toward the guest room with a little bounce in her step, clearly pleased with how things were turning out. You watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to Logan, who was still standing in the living room, looking somewhat out of place.

“You can leave your wet clothes by the door if you want,” you offered, trying to keep things normal, even though the situation felt anything but.

Logan gave a quiet grunt of acknowledgment, pulling off his soaked jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. He moved slowly, like he was still debating whether to argue about the sleeping arrangements again, but thankfully, he didn’t.

After a minute, he glanced back at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You really are stubborn, you know that?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takes one to know one.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he walked past you toward your bedroom. “Fair enough.”

Once he disappeared into the room, you let out a small sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was... not how you expected your night to go. Sharing your house with both Logan and Laura during a storm, with Laura sneakily playing matchmaker. It was almost funny, if not for the fact that Logan being this close made your heart race a little too much for comfort.

You settled back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over yourself and staring at the TV screen without really watching it. The sound of rain pounding against the windows and the occasional crack of thunder filled the quiet, but it was hard to focus on the storm when you knew Logan was in the next room.

Laura had probably planned this all along.

You glanced toward the hallway where the guest room was, wondering if she was already asleep—or if she was lying there, scheming her next move.

Thunder broke you out of your thoughts, making you flinch slightly under the blankets.

You settled deeper into the couch, but sleep wasn’t coming any easier despite the exhaustion from the day. Your mind kept wandering, mostly back to Logan and how natural it had started to feel having him and Laura around. Maybe a little too natural.

A sharp crack of thunder rattled the windows, and you flinched again, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You’d thought you were getting used to storms, but this one was relentless, dragging on with no signs of easing up.

Just when you started to think you’d be up all night, you heard the soft creak of the floorboards behind you. You turned, expecting to see Laura coming out of the guest room, but instead, Logan stood there in the dim light of the living room, looking as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Can’t sleep?” you asked, your voice quiet but steady, despite the storm.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorway. “Not used to sleepin’ anywhere but my own bed.”

You nodded, biting back a knowing smile. “Yeah, I get that. Storm’s not helping much either.”

Logan’s eyes flicked to the window, then back to you. His gaze was a little softer than usual, like the storm had taken some of the edge off his usual roughness. “You alright? Heard you jumpin’ every time the thunder hits.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush off his concern. “It’s nothing. Just... not a fan of storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Logan said, stepping further into the room. He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit on the armrest of the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Don’t have to tough it out, y’know.”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the gentleness in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be this open, to offer any sort of comfort. He usually kept things buried under layers of gruffness and distance.

“Guess I’m just used to toughing it out,” you said softly, offering him a small smile.

Logan studied you for a moment, his eyes flicking over your face, like he was weighing his next words carefully. “You don’t always have to. Not with us.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. You weren’t sure what to say. This side of Logan—the quiet, protective side—was something you’d only seen glimpses of before, but tonight, it was like the storm had brought down some of his walls.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” you finally said, but your voice lacked its usual conviction.

“Not worryin’,” Logan replied, his gaze steady. “Just statin’ a fact.”

The thunder rolled again, quieter this time, as if the storm was finally starting to let up. Logan’s eyes lingered on you for a beat longer, before he stood up, looking like he was about to head back to the bedroom.

But then he paused, glancing over his shoulder. “If you want... there’s room in the bed.”

Your breath hitched, and you blinked up at him, not sure if you heard him right. “What?”

Logan’s lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, but his expression remained serious. “I ain’t suggestin’ what Laura was earlier,” he muttered, a little embarrassed. “Just... if it helps you sleep better, I don’t mind. Couch’s not exactly comfortable.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Logan wasn’t the type to offer comfort lightly, and the idea of sharing a bed with him—platonically or not—made your pulse quicken.

“I—” You faltered, unsure how to respond. But something in the way he was looking at you made it clear this wasn’t just about the storm or being polite. This was about something more—something that had been quietly building between the two of you for a while now.

Before you could overthink it, you nodded. “Okay.”

Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly, surprised by your answer. He stepped aside as you stood, grabbing the blanket from the couch. Neither of you said anything as you walked down the hallway to your bedroom, the tension thick but not uncomfortable—more like an understanding had settled between you.

Once inside, Logan shifted awkwardly as you took your side of the bed, pulling the blanket over yourself, trying to act like this was normal, like your heart wasn’t racing in your chest. Logan laid down on the opposite side, keeping a respectful distance, though the bed felt smaller with him in it.

The sound of the rain outside softened, though the occasional rumble of thunder still rolled in the distance. You stared at the ceiling, hyper-aware of Logan beside you, the space between you feeling charged.

“You good?” Logan asked after a minute, his voice low in the quiet.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m good.”

A beat passed. Then another.

“Thanks,” you added, not just for offering the bed, but for being there, for not making this weird.

Logan turned his head slightly to look at you, his eyes soft in the dim light. “Ain’t nothin’.”

But it was something. It was a lot, actually.

You both lay there in silence for a while, the sound of the rain becoming almost soothing. You could feel the warmth of him next to you, solid and reassuring, and slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, Logan’s voice broke the silence again, so quiet you almost missed it.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice gruff but sincere. “You don’t have to do this on your own. Not with us around.”

Your heart swelled, a mix of emotions you weren’t quite ready to confront just yet. You didn’t know what to say, so instead, you reached out, your hand brushing against his in the small space between you.

Logan didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his grip warm and steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you fell asleep without flinching at the sound of thunder.

---

You woke up to the sound of soft rain pattering against the window, the storm from last night finally easing up. For a second, you forgot where you were, until you felt the weight of the blanket and the warmth of another presence next to you. Logan. His steady breathing filled the quiet space, and you shifted slightly, careful not to wake him.

This was new.

You glanced over at him, his face relaxed in sleep, the tension he usually carried nowhere to be found. It was strange seeing him like this—calm, almost peaceful. You could feel the residual warmth from his hand where he’d held yours last night, and the memory made your chest tighten.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, not wanting to disturb the rare moment of quiet. You padded out into the hallway, stopping by Laura’s room to peek in. She was still asleep, wrapped up in blankets, her small body barely a lump under the covers.

You smiled to yourself, already suspecting that she had something to do with last night’s sleeping arrangements. Laura was too clever for her own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, you started brewing coffee, the scent filling the small space. As you waited for it to finish, you found yourself staring out the window, your mind still on Logan. Last night had been... unexpected. But not unwelcome. The way he’d stayed close, offering comfort without making a big deal out of it—it meant more than you wanted to admit.

The soft creak of footsteps behind you pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You’re up early,” Logan’s gravelly voice broke the quiet.

You turned to see him leaning against the doorway, his hair still a little mussed from sleep, but otherwise looking much like his usual self.

“Couldn’t sleep much after the storm,” you shrugged, offering him a small smile. “Coffee?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, moving to sit at the kitchen table. “Thanks.”

You poured two mugs, setting one in front of him before taking a seat across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just sipping your coffee in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

Logan glanced at you over the rim of his mug, his eyes softer than usual. “You sleep alright?”

You hesitated, remembering how easily you’d fallen asleep next to him. “Better than I expected, honestly.”

He grunted in acknowledgment, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Guess the storm wasn’t as bad as you thought.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck. “Or maybe it was the company.”

Logan’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on you again. “Thanks for lettin’ us stay. Laura didn’t give you much choice, huh?”

“She didn’t have to,” you replied with a shrug. “I wasn’t gonna let either of you stay in a freezing house with no power.”

Logan nodded, his eyes drifting to the window. “Power should be back on soon. I’ll head back once it’s up.”

You didn’t say anything, but part of you felt a pang of disappointment at the thought of him leaving so soon. You hadn’t had many moments like this—quiet, with just the two of you—and you found yourself wanting it to last a little longer.

Laura’s quiet footsteps broke the silence as she padded into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Mornin’, kid,” Logan greeted her.

“Mornin’,” Laura mumbled, glancing between the two of you with a knowing look before plopping down at the table. “Is the power back on yet?”

“Not yet,” you said, trying to ignore the way she was eyeing you and Logan.

Laura just shrugged, grabbing the cereal box from the counter and helping herself. “Guess we’re stuck here a little longer, huh?”

You shot her a look, but she didn’t seem fazed, her focus on her cereal. It was hard to tell if she was playing innocent or if she was just that good at pretending.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” you asked, trying to shift the conversation.

Laura perked up at that. “You said you’d help me with my English homework, remember?”

You blinked. “I—uh, right. Yeah, I did say that.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking at Laura. “Since when do you need help with English?”

Laura shot him a quick look before turning back to you, all smiles. “I figured Ms. Aberra would be better at explaining it than you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, starting to catch on. “I’m sure you’re doing fine in English, Laura.”

She shrugged, playing with her spoon. “Yeah, but it’s better when someone explains it.”

Logan just shook his head, clearly not buying it either, but he didn’t say anything, letting Laura’s little game play out.

“Well,” you said, getting up from the table. “I guess we can take a look at it after breakfast.”

Laura grinned, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Thanks, Ms. Aberra.”

You smiled back, even though you knew something was up. Sure, you had been helping her with English homework for a while now, but she didn’t need the help. When she would show you her essays or answers to questions about a reading, they were always perfect. Still, you played along, grabbing your coffee and heading toward the living room.

“Alright,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at her. “Go grab your stuff, and we’ll take a look.”

Laura jumped up, cereal forgotten, and dashed off to retrieve her things. You settled onto the couch, sipping your coffee and trying to push aside the strange feeling that this was part of something bigger. But what?

Logan followed you into the living room, sitting down in the worn armchair opposite you. He gave you a look—one eyebrow slightly raised, lips set in that half-smirk he sometimes wore when he was figuring someone out.

“She really roped you into this, huh?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You shrugged, trying to seem casual. “It’s not a big deal. I’m used to kids asking for help with schoolwork.”

“Yeah, but Laura? She doesn’t ask for help unless she’s got some kind of angle.”

You laughed softly, but the truth of his words settled somewhere in the back of your mind. Laura wasn’t just a smart kid—she was calculating. You’d seen it in class and at home. The way she observed things, the way she always seemed to know what was going on, even when no one said a word.

“I guess I’ll find out,” you said, leaning back into the couch.

Before Logan could reply, Laura returned, a small notebook and a pencil in hand. She sat beside you, flipping it open to a random page. You glanced at the page, immediately noticing that it was filled with neat, almost perfect handwriting. The essay she’d written didn’t have a single correction or revision mark.

“Alright,” you began, pretending you didn’t see the perfection in front of you. “What do you need help with?”

Laura handed the notebook over, her face perfectly serious. “I just wanted to know if the introduction’s strong enough.”

You skimmed through the first paragraph, and honestly, it was better than anything you’d expect from a sixth grader. If anything, it felt more like she was testing you than asking for actual feedback.

“It’s good,” you said slowly. “Your thesis is clear, and you have a strong opening sentence. You might want to make the transition to your first point a little smoother, but overall, it’s solid.”

Laura nodded thoughtfully, pretending to make a note in her notebook. You watched her for a moment, trying to figure out what game she was playing. There was no way she needed your help, but for some reason, she wanted you here. And Logan, too.

Logan just sat quietly, watching the two of you like he wasn’t quite sure what was happening either. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, fingers tapping lightly. You could feel his presence, steady and grounding, even when he wasn’t saying anything.

Laura glanced at her dad. “Ms. Aberra’s a pretty good teacher, don’t you think?”

Logan’s eyes flicked to you, his smirk back in full force. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

You gave Laura a suspicious look. “You’re not just buttering me up for extra credit, are you?”

Laura’s eyes widened in mock innocence. “No. I just like the way you explain things.”

“Mhm.” You weren’t buying it, but it was hard not to laugh.

The quiet hung between you all for a moment, just the sound of the rain outside and the occasional scrape of Laura’s pencil against her notebook. It felt… peaceful, despite the nagging feeling that something was going on beneath the surface.

“Alright, well,” you finally said, pushing yourself up from the couch. “Looks like you’ve got this handled, Laura. I don’t think you need much help.”

Laura blinked up at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks anyway.”

You caught the look she sent Logan’s way, and suddenly, it clicked. She didn’t need your help with homework—she was just trying to get you to stick around a little longer. Maybe even trying to give you and Logan more time together.

Smart kid.

Logan, of course, said nothing, just watching you with that unreadable expression he wore so well. You could never quite tell what he was thinking, and it both frustrated and intrigued you.

"So," Laura said suddenly, breaking the quiet. "What’s the plan today?"

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "You’re the one with the notebook full of perfect essays. I thought you had plans."

Laura grinned at that, not even trying to hide it anymore. "I was thinking we could all go out for lunch. Since we’re stuck here."

Logan gave her a look, but didn’t say anything, clearly seeing through her. You stifled a laugh, playing along. "Lunch, huh? You paying?"

Laura shrugged, looking way too pleased with herself. "I’ll ask nicely. Maybe you’ll cover it."

You shook your head, pretending to think it over. "Might be able to swing it."

Logan snorted. "Real generous of you."

"Hey, I’m a teacher. Gotta budget wisely," you shot back, smirking at him.

Laura just smiled, clearly happy with how things were going, and it hit you again—she was definitely playing matchmaker. Subtle, but it was there. Not that you minded. Spending more time with Logan wasn’t exactly a hardship.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you, though. "You’re sure you don’t mind us hanging around?"

You tilted your head, genuinely surprised. "Logan, if I minded, I wouldn’t have let you in. You’re both always welcome here."

For a second, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just gave a slow nod, like he was accepting it—maybe even appreciating it, though he’d never say that out loud. "Thanks."

You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal, even though you knew it kind of was. "Don’t mention it."

Laura got up, stretching her arms over her head before grabbing her empty bowl. "I’ll go get ready for lunch then," she said, already heading to the sink. "I’m starving."

You watched her go, then turned back to Logan, raising an eyebrow. "Think we’ve got time for that before the power comes back on?"

Logan shrugged, his smirk returning. "Could be out a while longer."

"Convenient," you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Logan chuckled, a low, rough sound that made something in your chest tighten. He set his empty mug on the coffee table and stood up, stretching slightly. "Guess we better make sure the kid doesn’t eat the place out of food while we wait."

You laughed, following him into the kitchen. The dynamic between the three of you felt easy now, comfortable in a way that surprised you. Even with Laura’s not-so-subtle attempts at matchmaking, there was something natural about how you and Logan were around each other. It wasn’t rushed or forced. Just... right.

Laura appeared from the hallway, already dressed and tugging on her jacket. "Ready when you are," she said, a little too cheerfully.

Logan gave her a look. "We haven’t even decided where we’re going."

"I’ll leave that up to the grown-ups," she said, grabbing her shoes.

You exchanged a glance with Logan, both of you clearly thinking the same thing: this kid was way too clever for her own good. But neither of you called her out on it.

"Alright," Logan finally said, grabbing his jacket. "Let’s get going before the power comes back and ruins her plan."

Laura grinned but didn’t say anything, grabbing your hand as you all headed out into the damp, cool air. The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still overcast, a soft, gray light filtering through the clouds.

You walked beside Logan, Laura skipping a few steps ahead, her eyes darting around like she was taking everything in. She was always like that—watching, observing. And now you knew why. She was playing a long game, slowly pushing you and Logan closer together, little by little.

You couldn’t help but smile. She was good. Really good.

And maybe, just maybe, you were starting to appreciate her efforts.

---

The school did something special for parents on Valentine’s Day. Instead of just handing out donuts or cupcakes, they did a competition.

There was different challenges for each couple, or pairing, to finish, and to make it even better, their kids would have to guide them on certain challenges, like walking blindfolded to the finish line on the field.

Emma glanced over at you as you were going through the list of parent’s names, making sure everyone had a partner. There were a few single parents, so you had to figure out who they should be paired with. But there was an odd number, one parent would have to sit out.

“So… who’s sitting out?” Emma asked, leaning on the desk next to you. She had that casual curiosity in her tone, but you knew she was just as invested in making sure things ran smoothly as you were.

You chewed your lip, staring at the list. “Looks like we’ve got one extra parent. I’m not sure yet.”

Emma peeked over your shoulder, scanning the names. “What about Logan?”

You paused, looking at the list. Logan’s name was there, as was Laura’s, but you hesitated. He wasn’t exactly the type to jump into school events, especially one that involved blindfolds and teamwork. And while he’d been involved in Laura’s life, you weren’t sure he’d want to participate in something like this.

“Yeah, guess he can sit out. We have an odd number of parents anyways.” You put down the clipboard and looked at the empty donut box, “I’ll be right back. Gonna go to the other room and get another box.”

As you moved toward the door, you noticed Laura sitting quietly in the corner, fiddling with her notebook, watching everything with that usual sharpness in her eyes. She had been quiet all morning, almost too quiet. You gave her a smile before heading to the break room, still feeling a little awkward about pairing up the parents.

Emma stayed behind, her eyes flicking between you and Laura, a slight smirk tugging at her lips like she was onto something.

You weaved through the hallway, your mind still on the whole situation. These parent events were always a little tricky when it came to single parents. You knew Logan wasn’t exactly the type to jump into the school scene, especially for something like a Valentine’s Day competition, but you couldn’t help but think maybe he’d want to give it a shot for Laura.

Grabbing the donut box, you paused for a second. The idea of Logan being there today, paired up with someone else, didn’t sit right. Not that you had any reason to feel that way. It was just... Logan. You weren’t even sure if he’d show up.

When you returned to the room, Laura was still sitting there, now scribbling something in her notebook. She glanced up as you entered, her expression neutral but her eyes watching you closely.

“Everything okay?” you asked, setting the fresh box on the table and moving to grab the clipboard again.

Laura nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“Thinking about the competition?” You smiled, trying to make conversation, but she just gave you a vague shrug.

“Something like that.”

Emma glanced at you, her smirk still there as she made a little noise of amusement. “Logan didn’t strike me as the ‘competition’ type. But who knows?”

You shot her a look, but before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan walked in. Speak of the devil. He looked around, taking in the sight of parents getting ready, kids buzzing with excitement. His eyes landed on you, and he gave a short nod, his usual gruff greeting.

“You’re here,” you said, surprised, trying to keep your voice casual. “Didn’t think you’d make it.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, his hands in his pockets. “Laura signed us up. Thought I’d better show.”

Laura, sitting nearby, perked up but kept her face mostly neutral. She wasn’t about to blow her cover, not yet anyway.

“Right,” you said, glancing down at the clipboard. “Well, there’s an odd number of parents, so... I was thinking maybe you’d sit out.”

Laura, quick as ever, jumped in. “Or you could partner with someone else.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “Well, yeah, I guess, but we don’t really have—”

“You could partner with Daddy.” Laura said it so simply, like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t been plotting this for weeks.

Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he glanced between the two of you, clearly realizing what his daughter was doing, but he didn’t say anything. He just stood there, waiting for your reaction.

You stammered a bit, caught completely off guard. “I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea...”

Laura gave you a look, one that said she knew exactly what she was doing. “It’s just for the competition. Besides, it’ll be fun.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to you again, and this time, there was a slight smirk on his face. “It’s just a game, right? We’ll survive.”

Emma, watching the whole thing play out, was trying very hard not to laugh. “Looks like you’re stuck with Logan, Y/N.”

You felt a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. It was one thing to think about spending time with Logan, but being thrown into a school competition with him—especially with Laura being the mastermind behind it—was another.

“Okay, fine,” you muttered, trying to act like this wasn’t a big deal at all. “I guess we’ll partner up.”

Logan just gave a nonchalant shrug. “Let’s get this over with.”

Laura’s eyes practically sparkled with victory as she hopped up from her seat, already heading toward the field where the first challenge would take place. You followed, trying to shake off the awkwardness, but it was impossible with Logan right next to you.

As you reached the field, the first task was announced: a three-legged race. Of course. Out of all the challenges, it had to be this one. You glanced over at Logan, who was already eyeing the ropes being handed out for the pairs to tie their legs together.

"This should be interesting," Logan muttered under his breath, taking one of the ropes and holding it out for you.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your nerves behind a smile. "I feel like this is a recipe for disaster."

Logan’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Only if you don’t keep up."

"Me?" You chuckled, shaking your head as you bent down to tie the rope around your ankle and his. "You’re the one with the bum leg."

Logan grunted, not arguing, though his usual swagger was still intact. "I’ll manage."

Laura stood off to the side, watching with a faint smile, clearly enjoying the show. You could tell she was pleased with herself, and part of you was too, even if you were trying to act like this was no big deal.

"Alright, ready?" Logan asked, standing up straighter after securing the rope.

"As I’ll ever be," you replied, trying to gauge the best way to navigate the race without falling flat on your face.

The whistle blew, and before you knew it, you were awkwardly hopping forward, one leg bound to Logan’s as you tried to find some sort of rhythm. The first few steps were disastrous—Logan’s longer strides making it nearly impossible for you to keep pace without stumbling.

"Slow down!" you laughed, grabbing his arm to steady yourself as you nearly tripped.

Logan smirked, his hand quickly coming to your waist to keep you from toppling over. "You gotta move faster than that, Y/N."

"Or maybe you need to move slower!" you shot back, trying to adjust your steps to match his. After a few shaky moments, you finally found a rhythm, the two of you moving in sync—well, mostly. Logan’s hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you both half-hopped, half-laughed your way toward the finish line.

"Not bad," Logan grunted as you crossed the line, not quite first, but definitely not last either.

"Not bad?" You shot him a look, still a little breathless from laughing. "I’m pretty sure we almost face-planted three times."

"Could’ve been worse," he replied with a shrug, that smirk of his still in place.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your heart was still racing—though you weren’t sure if it was from the race or from the fact that Logan had kept his arm around your waist longer than necessary.

Laura, waiting at the sidelines, gave you both a knowing look as you untied the rope. "You guys were pretty good," she commented casually, though the glint in her eyes said otherwise.

"Pretty good?" you echoed, shooting her a playful glare. "We almost ate dirt, Laura."

Logan grunted in agreement but didn’t say much, just shaking his head as he rubbed his leg a bit. You noticed the slight grimace that flashed across his face—something you hadn’t seen often, but it was there for just a moment before he covered it up.

"Next challenge is... egg balancing," Emma announced from the other end of the field, holding up a spoon and a carton of eggs.

You and Logan exchanged a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh. "Oh, this’ll be fun."

Logan just sighed, clearly less than thrilled about the prospect of trying to balance an egg on a spoon, but he didn’t protest. You handed him one of the spoons as you lined up for the next round.

"You got a steady hand?" you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

Logan glanced at the spoon, then back at you. "Steadier than yours, probably."

"Let’s see about that," you shot back, placing the egg carefully on your spoon. The whistle blew, and you both started across the field, trying to keep the fragile eggs from toppling off. You had to admit, Logan had a surprising amount of focus for a guy who usually looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Not bad for an old man," you joked, glancing over at him as you both carefully moved toward the finish line.

"Careful, Y/N. That’s how you get egg on your face," Logan muttered, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

Just as you were nearing the end, Laura darted over, watching closely. "Come on, you guys can do it!"

It was hard to ignore the pride in her voice—she was definitely enjoying watching you two work together. And maybe, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you were too.

By the time you finished, both of your eggs still intact, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of accomplishment. It was silly, sure, but being paired with Logan for these goofy challenges wasn’t as awkward as you thought it might be. In fact, it was... kind of nice.

"Two for two," Logan said with a smirk, handing his spoon back as the event wrapped up.

"Don’t get too cocky," you replied, bumping his arm lightly as you handed yours in too. "We’ll see how you do with the next one."

Laura appeared beside you again, her eyes bright. "You guys make a good team."

You gave her a sideways glance, trying not to read too much into her words. "Yeah, well, it’s all about teamwork, right?"

Logan didn’t say anything, but his eyes met yours for a brief moment, and there was something there—something unspoken that made your heart skip a beat.

The rest of the day went by in a blur of silly games and laughter, and by the time the event was over, you were exhausted, but in the best way possible. Logan had stayed the whole time, never complaining or trying to bow out early. Laura, of course, was thrilled with how things had turned out, and you couldn’t help but feel like she had succeeded in whatever plan she had been cooking up.

As the parents and kids started to trickle out of the school, you found yourself standing beside Logan near the door. Laura had already run ahead to grab her things, leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

"Thanks for sticking around," you said, glancing up at him. "I know this probably wasn’t your idea of a fun day."

Logan shrugged, his usual nonchalant expression in place. "Wasn’t so bad."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I’m glad you came. Laura seemed to really enjoy it."

"Yeah," Logan agreed, his gaze softening slightly as he looked in the direction where Laura had run off. "She’s a good kid."

"She is," you said, nodding. "And she’s lucky to have you."

Logan didn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he gave a small nod. "Thanks."

There was a brief silence between you, the air charged with something unspoken but palpable. Before you could say anything else, Laura came bounding back, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Ready to go?" she asked, looking between the two of you with that same knowing glint in her eyes.

"Yeah," Logan said, ruffling her hair lightly. "Let’s get outta here."

As they started to head for the door, Logan paused, glancing back at you. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," you replied, feeling your heart skip again. "See you around, Logan."

---

It had been a few days since the Valentine’s Day event, and things had settled back into routine. You were sitting in your living room, halfway through grading papers, when there was a knock on your door.

Opening it, you found Logan standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," he greeted, voice low. "Laura wanted me to ask if you'd join us for dinner tonight. Nothing fancy. Just... thought it’d be nice."

You blinked, surprised by the invitation. Logan wasn’t exactly the type to invite people over casually, but something about the way he stood there, slightly awkward, made your heart skip a beat.

"Sure," you said, smiling. "I’d like that."

Dinner at Logan’s place was unexpectedly warm. Laura set the table with care, and you found yourself laughing more than you expected as Logan recounted some old stories about his past. The tension that usually simmered between you felt different tonight—softer, like you were slowly crossing an invisible line you’d both been careful to avoid.

As you helped clear the dishes, your hand brushed against Logan’s, and the brief contact made you pause. He glanced at you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a quiet acknowledgment of something building between you.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low, his gaze lingering just a little too long.

“Anytime,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his eyes on you as you turned to put the plates away. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, but it was hard with Logan standing so close. It was like every time you were around him, you felt like something unspoken hovered between you—something that Laura, in her quiet, clever way, seemed determined to help along.

Laura wandered back into the room, a book in her hands. “Y/N, can you help me with my English homework?” she asked, holding it up and glancing between you and Logan like she hadn’t just interrupted a moment.

You blinked, turning to her with a small smile. “Of course, I can take a look.”

“Great!” Laura said, her voice a little too cheerful. She plopped down on the couch and spread her notebook and book out in front of her. “It’s this essay I’ve got to write.”

Logan lingered by the kitchen counter, his eyes flicking to Laura’s book with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “I’ll leave you two to it, then,” he muttered, and before you could say anything, he was stepping outside, probably to get some fresh air or give you and Laura some space.

You turned your attention back to Laura, still smiling but a bit confused. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got here.”

Laura launched into an explanation, talking about a character analysis she needed to do for class. As you glanced over her notes, though, it struck you that everything was pretty much perfect. Her sentences were clear, her argument made sense, and she’d clearly put a lot of thought into it. Like always, it was perfect.

“Laura… this is really good,” you said slowly, giving her an impressed look. “I don’t think you need help with this.”

Laura’s face stayed impassive, but you caught a faint hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Just wanted to make sure it was okay,” she said casually, glancing in the direction Logan had gone.

Something clicked then, and you had to suppress a chuckle. So this was just another one of Laura’s little schemes to get you to stick around. You were starting to see the pattern—tiny excuses to keep you close, to get you and Logan in the same room more often. It was subtle, but now that you were catching on, it was impossible to miss.

“Well, your essay’s great,” you said, folding your arms as you gave her a knowing look. “But I think there’s more going on here than just English homework.”

Laura’s gaze stayed steady on yours, and for a moment, you could see a glimpse of something deeper in those eyes—something far beyond her years. “He’s lonely,” she said quietly, so softly that you almost missed it.

Your heart gave a small squeeze at that. It was true that Logan always seemed like a man on the outskirts of everything, never quite fitting in. And you knew he and Laura had been through a lot together, more than most people could imagine. But he wasn’t exactly the type to talk about his feelings—or admit he might need someone else in his life.

“Maybe,” you replied gently, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “But that’s something he has to figure out on his own, okay?”

Laura nodded slowly, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “He likes you,” she said, blunt as ever. “And you like him.”

Your cheeks heated, and you glanced away, trying to keep your voice steady. It wasn’t the first time Laura has said something like this. “It’s not that simple, Laura.”

“Why not?” she asked, her brow furrowing like she genuinely didn’t understand.

You struggled to find the right words. How could you explain that things with Logan were complicated—that you weren’t sure where you stood with him, or if there was even a place for you in his life beyond being Laura’s teacher? And yet, every time you were near him, there was this pull, this quiet magnetism that made you wonder.

“I just… don’t want to mess things up,” you admitted finally, feeling a little silly for having this conversation with an eleven-year-old.

Laura’s gaze softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. “You won’t.”

Before you could respond, the door swung open, and Logan stepped back inside, his gaze immediately going to the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, his tone gruff but laced with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Yeah, we’re good,” you said quickly, trying to push down the strange mix of emotions Laura’s words had stirred up. You stood up, smoothing down your shirt as you gave him a smile. “I should probably get going, though. It’s getting late.”

Logan nodded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that almost looked like disappointment. “I’ll walk you out.”

He led you to the door, and you hesitated for a moment, glancing back at Laura. She gave you a small, encouraging smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Thanks again for coming,” Logan said as he opened the door, his voice a little softer than usual.

“Anytime,” you replied, echoing your earlier words as you stepped outside. The cool night air hit you, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling the weight of Logan’s gaze on you.

There was a long pause, the kind that felt like something should be said, but neither of you knew what. You shifted on your feet, biting your lip as you glanced up at him.

“Logan, I—”

“Y/N, I—”

You both spoke at the same time, then paused, sharing a startled laugh.

“You first,” Logan muttered, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I just… I wanted to say that I really enjoyed tonight. And I know Laura’s been… well, playing matchmaker or something,” you added with a chuckle, “but I just want you to know that I’m not—”

“Using her as an excuse to get close?” Logan finished for you, his voice dry but not unkind.

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah.”

Logan stood there, his eyes steady on yours, and for a moment, you both let the silence fill the space between you. He shifted his weight, his usual stoic expression softening just a bit, and for the first time, it felt like he was truly considering what to say next.

"Look, I know Laura's been trying to push things," he said, his voice low and gruff, but gentler than usual. "She's... smart, too smart sometimes. But this—tonight—it wasn’t just about her."

You blinked, surprised by his admission. You weren’t used to Logan being so open, especially about anything personal. He seemed to read the surprise in your face and let out a quiet sigh, rubbing the back of his neck like this was harder for him than any physical fight he’d been in.

"What I mean is," he continued, glancing at the ground before his eyes flicked back up to yours, "it’s not just her, Y/N. I didn’t mind tonight. And that’s not something I say often."

Your breath hitched a little at his words, heart beating a little faster. There was a vulnerability in Logan that you weren’t expecting—a side of him that he clearly didn’t let out much, if at all.

"I didn’t mind it either," you said softly, trying to match his tone, to let him know you weren’t taking this lightly. "And Laura... well, she’s got a way of seeing things."

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, a rare sound that caught you off guard. "Yeah, she does. Sometimes I think she’s too smart for her own good." His eyes softened as he spoke about her, a fondness there that made you smile.

"She just wants you to be happy," you said gently. "And, I guess, maybe me too."

Logan looked at you for a long moment, something unspoken passing between you, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe—just maybe—there was something more here than just a shared concern for Laura. You had always admired Logan’s strength, his quiet loyalty, the way he looked after Laura with such fierce protectiveness. But standing there now, with the night air cool against your skin and Logan’s presence so close, it felt different. More personal.

"You know," Logan said after a long pause, his voice low again, "I don’t exactly have a lot of people in my life. Never been good at that sort of thing. But... you’re good with Laura. And you’re—" He stopped, his jaw tightening for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should say the next part. "You’re good for us."

Your heart thudded in your chest, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—the layers beneath that simple statement. You’re good for us. It wasn’t just about being Laura’s teacher anymore. It was about something more.

Your heart thudded in your chest, but you forced a smile to keep things light. “Good for you?” you repeated with a slight chuckle. There was an ache there, something that hinted at how much more those words meant coming from Logan—someone who didn’t let people in easily. The way he looked at you, steady and deliberate, made it hard to brush aside. His eyes held yours a little longer than usual, almost daring you to look away.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a low rumble, and you couldn’t help but notice how the weight of the night seemed to gather between you, thick in the air. Logan’s usual guarded stance had softened, just enough for you to sense it. He stepped a bit closer, enough that you could feel the faint warmth of him, the earthy scent of cigars and the wild outdoors clinging to his skin.

You shifted on your feet, trying to figure out where this was heading, but the flutter in your chest only grew stronger. Something unspoken seemed to pass between you two, like a current beneath the surface, waiting for one of you to reach down and touch it.

“I think Laura’s got something figured out,” you admitted, voice soft as you kept your eyes on him. “She’s smart enough to see what’s happening here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, barely-there smile. “Yeah, too smart sometimes.” His gaze fell to the ground for a moment, and when he looked back up at you, there was something different there—something raw. “But she’s right. You’re good for us. Hell, you’re good for me.” His words carried a weight, a kind of honesty that took you by surprise, even though deep down, you’d been hoping to hear them for a while.

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure, but your pulse quickened. “Logan, I…” You started to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat. He was so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off him, and there was a wildness in his eyes that drew you in.

And then, as if some invisible line snapped, Logan took another step toward you, his rough hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb grazed your skin, the touch light but electrifying. “I don’t say things like this often,” he muttered, his voice husky, the growl in it more pronounced now, “but I want you to stay close. For Laura, yeah, but... for me too.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, your body reacting to the closeness of him, the way his hand lingered on your cheek. It wasn’t just the softness in his eyes or the tenderness of his touch, but the way he was looking at you, like he was seeing more than just the surface.

“I’ve wanted to stay close,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper, as your hand gently touched his chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, like the pull between you was more than just chemistry.

Logan’s gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the cool night air, the sound of distant traffic, even the faint light from inside the house. All that mattered was the closeness, the way you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

Before you knew it, Logan was leaning in, and you closed the gap without thinking. His lips pressed against yours, rough and warm, and everything else just melted away. The kiss was slow at first, almost tentative, but then it deepened, and the heat between you flared like wildfire.

His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer against him, and you could feel the solid strength of his body as you pressed into him. The kiss was everything you hadn’t let yourself think about for so long—filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface, waiting to spill over.

Logan kissed like he lived—intensely, without holding back. His grip on your waist tightened as if he was afraid to let go, and you responded in kind, threading your fingers into the rough texture of his hair. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing; just the two of you, connected in this raw, unexpected moment.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you both stood there for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and Logan’s forehead rested against yours, his breath still ragged.

“I—” you started to speak, but he cut you off, his voice low and hoarse.

“Don’t,” he muttered, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t ruin it with words, not yet.”

You nodded, biting back whatever thought was trying to escape. The night air felt cooler now, the warmth of Logan’s body contrasting sharply against it, grounding you in the moment. His hand lingered on your waist, thumb brushing your side, and you could feel the slight tremor in his fingers, like even he was surprised by what just happened.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “Didn’t think this’d happen,” he admitted, almost to himself.

You gave a soft laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Me either.”

His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, and he shifted slightly, his hand moving from your waist to gently brush your cheek. The gesture was so uncharacteristically tender for him that it made your heart twist a little.

For a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken hanging between you. Part of you wanted to step back, to put some distance between you and Logan, to give yourself a chance to think. But another part—the stronger part—wanted to stay right where you were, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the rough edge of his thumb grazing your cheek.

Meanwhile, Laura peeked through the blinds, a smile spreading across her face.

tags: @freythecrazyfae

Sunshine [6] - Middle of the Night

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Drunk calls can lead to sweet moments.

Word Count: 3500 

CW: Violence, explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking

Series Masterlist

To be completely honest, getting drunk was not in the plans tonight.

You were supposed to have one drink and go home but in your defense your best friend had tricked you with that two for one deal and now you were on your fifth cocktail, giggling at the story of her latest date.

“Listen, if you like him, I can totally normalize him living with his ex for you,” you told her and she made a face.

“How?”

“The rental market is in shambles.”

She let out a laugh, then shook her head.

“Nope.”

“Capitalism is fucking all of us—”

“We’re not doing that,” she said. “I mean how would you feel if Logan was living with his ex?”

“Logan hasn’t asked me out,” you pointed out. “Which is more reason to believe he doesn’t like me like that.”

“The guy maimed three people for you!”

“It could’ve been a friendly gesture!”

She threw her head back. “You’re not serious.”

You shrugged your shoulders, then downed your drink and motioned for another one.

“Listen,” you said, your mind all fuzzy. “Do I want Logan? Yes. Do I dream about us living happily ever after? Yes. Do I have very detailed fantasies about him breaking my bed? Also yes. But we don’t—”

“I’d just like to remind you that while you don’t have enough money to buy a new bed,” she interfered. “I will buy you a new one if you break it while the hot lumberjack is fucking your brains out.”

“Thank you, you’re a true friend,” you said solemnly as the waitress brought you your cocktail and you thanked her, then turned to Julie. “Jamie wants him to be terrible in bed so that I’ll snap out of this.”

“Doubt it,” she said. “The guy has been around since the mid-1800s, I’d assume he has some experience.”

You tilted your head, then gasped.

“Oh my God!” you said, reaching out to grab her arm over the table, almost knocking over her glass but she caught it before her drink could spill on the table. “What if Jamie is right?”

“I literally just said—”

“No, he was alive in mid-1800s!” you said, making her frown.

“Yeah?”

“What if he is like Edward Cullen and waiting for marriage?”

“That man is a whore!” Julie snapped, flailing her hands. “I’ve heard the way he speaks to you, he’s a slut—there’s no fucking way. He’ll break your bed any day now.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh. “To repeat, he hasn’t made a move.”

“To repeat, I think maiming three guys for you counts as making a move.”

You sucked on the straw of your cocktail, the happy warmth of alcohol buzzing in your head.

“So you think he likes me back?”

“I’m pretty sure he likes you back.”

 You grabbed some popcorn from the bowl on the table.

“Yeah well,” you said. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

You pulled your brows together. “I can’t do that Julie!”

“Why not?” she asked. “Is it the 1800s? Will people call you a harlot in the town square?”

“No!” you said. “No it’s just…”

“When was the last time you got laid?”

“That has nothing to with the situation,” you said and took a huge sip of your cocktail, making her grin.

“Remind me, when was it?”

“It’s been some time.”

“So why aren’t you climbing Logan like a tree?”

“I’m trying!” you whined and she motioned at you.

“Drink your cocktail. The whole thing.”

You nodded and downed your drink, your insides getting even warmer as you put your glass on the table. Julie grinned, and pushed your phone in your direction.

“Now call him.”

“Julie!”

“Just ask him out!” she said. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“He could hang up on me.”

“He’s not gonna hang up on you,” she said. “Listen, that guy has been picking you up from work, calling you princess, saving you from creeps and sniffing your hair...”

“We’re not so sure about the last part.”

“Yes we are,” she said, pointing a finger at you. “Call him. You’ll be too much of a chicken to ask him out when you’re sober, so do it when you’re drunk.”

You let out a whine, then took the phone into your hands, heaving a sigh.

“What if I’m not his type?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “Somebody really needs to fuck you in front of a mirror.”

You scrunched up your face. “Oh I could never do that.”

“You should, it’s fun,” she said and nodded at the phone in your hand. “Call him.”

“But—”

“Do you want to fuck him, yes or no?”

“I want us to live happily ever after!” you said and paused for a second. “And yeah I want to fuck him. A lot. Day and night, multiple positions.”

“Call him.”

You took a deep breath, then nodded to yourself.

“I’ll be back,” you said and stood up from the chair, stumbling as the room spun around you but you grabbed the back of the chair and sat down again. “Shit, I’m too drunk.”

“It’s not that loud here,” she said. “You don’t have to go outside.”

“Okay,” you said and found Logan’s name, then touched it and took the phone to your ear, your heart pacing in your chest. You drummed your fingernails on the table, frowning to yourself, then lowered the phone.

“He’s not answering,” you said and ended the call, then turned to Julie. “Maybe he’s busy or something?”

“Yeah, didn’t you say they went on missions?”

“That’s what I heard,” you said and heaved a sigh. “Oh well. It was worth a shot.”

Julie shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she said and thought for a moment. “We should get shots.”

You gasped, and clapped your hands together.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah let’s get shots!”

                                                   *

Since Julie’s place was closer, you had split the taxi fee and dropped her off first before the taxi took you to your place. As it turned out, the shots were a bad idea because you had to rush to the bathroom to throw up as soon as you stepped foot into your apartment, but after you brushed your teeth and washed your face, you were still not sleepy.

On the contrary, you were pretty energetic.

…And hungry.

Starving, actually.

You hummed to yourself as you opened the fridge, then tilted your head. Nothing in your fridge looked good enough, so you grabbed your phone to order, but then scoffed when you saw the delivery fee.

“Absolutely not,” you murmured and grabbed your jacket to put it on, then grabbed your keys before walking out of the apartment. The buzz of the alcohol was still in your system despite you throwing up, so you hopped down the stairs and stepped out of the apartment.

Walking did help the nausea and your head spinning, and you were just passing by a shop when the fish tank caught your eye, making you stop in your steps.

Fish.

Interesting.

You stared at the shop window, nearly hypnotized by the lively colors and the fish swimming in the huge fish tank behind the glass but snapped out of it when your phone started vibrating in your pocket.

Logan.

“Oh fuck,” you muttered to yourself as you stared at the name flashing on the screen, your breath hitching. “Oh fuck, oh fuck…”

You took a deep breath, and touched the screen, then took the phone to your ears, your heart pacing in your chest.

“Hey!” you said, your voice going a pitch higher. “Um, what’s up?”

“Hi princess,” he said, his deep voice making you bite at your lip. “Didn’t hear you call, sorry about that.”

“No problem,” you said with a giggle. “Jesus, fish are pretty. Did you know they were pretty? I didn’t really pay attention to them but—oh my God. I’m so buying Theo fish.”

“What?”

“No seriously, he wanted it, and these things are tiny and it’s not that hard to take care of fish, is it? I mean it can’t be harder than taking care of orchids, Nik bought some for me and those things are goddamn suicidal, I tell you.”

“…Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy,” you corrected him as you fished your gloss out of your purse to apply it, staring at the window. “Tipsy-ish? This store is open right? Yeah, I see someone inside—”

“Hold on, you’re drunk and outside?” he asked. “Alone?”

“Yeah but it’s fine,” you said. “I stepped outside for some fresh air and I’m gonna get food but I got distracted by this aquarium—I’ll buy two fish and then put one of those fake trees and stuff into the tank—”

“Stay put, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t even know where I am though?” you said, looking around the street. “I’m close to my apartment but like I said, I need to eat something and Theo needs fish—”

“I’ll follow your scent, stay put,” he said and hung up, making you hum, and then put the phone into your pocket and entered the shop to smile at the owner.

“Good evening sir,” you said. “I need one orange and one white fish please. My son will name them Cheeto and Popcorn.”

                                               *

Logan found you as you were leaving the fast food place, holding the paper bag full of French fries tight with the small fish tank tucked in your other arm. You put the paper bag on the lid on the tank as the roar of the motorcycle made you lift your head and you looked over your shoulder.

Jesus Christ, he was too hot.

You could swear there were flying hearts circling your head as he got off the motorcycle and made his way to you, his herculean figure making you sigh before you looked up at his handsome face, your heartbeat getting faster.

“Hi sweetheart.”

You blinked up at him, still hugging the tank to your chest. “Hi. You’re very handsome.”

That made the corners of his mouth twitch into a small smile before he tilted his head.

“How much did you drink, again?”

“Um…” you bit inside your cheek, looking up at the dark sky to calculate in your head. “Six cocktails and a couple of shots. The shots were Julie’s idea though.”

“Right.”

“Hold this,” you said, pushing the tank into his arms before grabbing the paper bag to open it. “Ugh, I’m starving! Are you hungry?”

“Nope,” he said, still smiling. “Go ahead.”

You hummed a song to yourself as you dug into the fries, and cleared your throat, trying to focus.

“You didn’t have to drive all the way here,” you said. “My place isn’t far.”

“Mm hm, and you’re drunk.”

“Tipsy,” you corrected him as you chewed on the fries with him walking beside you. “I swear to God, potatoes are the best vegetable to grace this earth—what were you doing when I called? Am I keeping you from something?”

“Nope,” he said. “I was walking around the halls to make sure everything was alright, I didn’t take my phone with me. How about you? Fun night?”

“So much fun!” you said as you popped a couple of fries into your mouth. “Julie is seeing this guy—well, they slept together, and apparently he’s still living with his ex and it’s like a huge red flag for her, but seriously the rents are insane nowadays so I don’t—Logan, what are your thoughts on premarital sex?”

That made his head whip around and he stared at you while you calmly chewed on the fries, waiting for his answer.

“…Huge fan of it?” he said after a beat and you nodded your head.

“Same here,” you said as you started walking again. “Did you—um, so do you count as Victorian or Georgian? I always mix those two up for some reason.”

He pulled his brows together. “What?”

“I watch a lot of period movies, I think yearning is the most romantic thing in the entire world, that hand scene in Pride and Prejudice changed me as a person,” you said as you reached into the paper bag to pull out more fries. “Um, I have a lot of questions for you and I know you’re this cool and mysterious guy so you can just say yes or no.”

He stifled a laugh. “Sure thing, hit me.”

“Did anyone give you their handkerchief?”

“No.”

You gasped. “No one gave you their handkerchief? What a bunch of assholes!”

“I had other priorities in mind during those times, sweetheart.”

“Yearning is a priority, Logan,” you said wistfully. “Next question, were you ever accidentally engaged?”

“How does one get accidentally engaged?”

“People see you talking to each other without a chaperone.”

“What?” he asked with a grimace. “I don’t—no.”

“No wonder why you like modern times better, now that I think about it,” you murmured as you looked into the bag, then heaved a sigh when you saw only a couple of fries in it. You grabbed them and threw them into your mouth, then scrunched up the paper bag to throw it into the nearest trash can. “Do you like Cheeto and Popcorn?”

Logan pulled his brows together. “Come again?”

“The fish!” you pointed at the small fish tank he was holding in one hand and he looked down at it, then chuckled.

“Right,” he said. “They look nice, sweetheart.”

“Right? Theo will be very happy, and—is there any rules against pets at the school? Because he will want to take them there.”

“We can bend the rules a little for him, it’s fine,” he said, making you smile at him brightly.

“Aw thank you!” you said as you licked your lips, then looked around before turning to Logan. “Logan?”

His eyes held a soft light in them. “Hm?”

“Can I see your claws?”

He frowned slightly but unsheathed his claws. “Why? I don’t see any threats, do you—”

He was cut off when you held onto his arm to lift his hand a little to see the blur reflection of your face on the metal, then dabbed at your lip gloss that had smudged a little with the tip of your finger. You could feel Logan staring at you so you lifted your gaze for a moment.

“What?”

“…You—you know I’ve hurt a lot of people with them, right?”

“And now you’re helping me fix my makeup with them,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Things can be of multiuse.”

He didn’t comment on it as you rubbed your lips together, then dropped his hand to beam at him. “Thanks!”

“No problem,” he managed to say with a small chuckle. “You are something else, you know that?”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” you said happily but before you could thank him again, you noticed two guys staring at him, no doubt because of the claws. You could feel the sudden rush of anger sparking to life as you narrowed your eyes at them.

“What?” you snapped, making them snap out of the haze, exchanging glances. Logan raised his brows, his lips twitching as if he was amused. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” one of them said. “Just claws—”

“Yeah, so?” you asked him as you took a step towards him but Logan put his hand over the back of your neck, gently pulling you back, looking like he was trying his hardest to keep a straight face and not burst into laughter as the guy stepped back. “What, do you wanna fight or something?”

“…No?”

“Then fucking act like it, how about that?”

“Your girl is aggressive, bro.”

“That she is,” Logan said, rubbing his thumb over the back of your neck. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“It’s rude to stare, okay?” you told them over your shoulder as you started walking beside Logan. “No seriously like, didn’t your mom teach you anything? Call her, let’s see what she’ll say about you staring at strangers!”

Logan pursed his lips together to control the chuckle vibrating in his chest before he cleared his throat.

“Unbelievable,” you grumbled. “No seriously, even Theo knows not to stare at people and he still believes in Santa! That’s no excuse, what the fuck was that? You should’ve let me kick his ass!”

“I think you scared them off enough.”

“Good!”

“Do you always look for fights when you’re drunk?”

“I’m tipsy and I have zero tolerance for disrespect, Logan,” you pointed out. “I mean honestly, who raised these boys?”

Logan bit back a smile, then nodded in the direction of your building.

“Come on,” he said and you pulled out your keys, but then dropped them with a gasp. Logan picked them up, then opened the building’s door for you.

“It’s kind of like a handkerchief situation when you think about it,” you said happily as you climbed the stairs. If you weren’t so drunk, you would’ve noticed earlier that he was in fact in your building but it only dawned on you when you stopped in front of your apartment, then held your breath.

“Logan?” you asked, your heart beating faster at the possibility. “Would you like to come in?”

“I’ll just make sure you actually go to bed and not wander off to the street completely drunk,” he told you and you pouted your lips as he opened your door for you.

Stepping into your apartment, you yawned and looked over your shoulder as he closed the door behind him, then held up the fish tank.

“Where do you want to put it?”

“The kitchen is fine,” you said, pointing at the kitchen and he made his way to the kitchen while you swayed on your steps, making your way to your bedroom to fling yourself on the bed, kicking off your shoes. You heard the sound of water running before the footsteps came closer and you sat up in the bed, tucking your legs under you. Logan entered your bedroom, his hazel gaze focusing on you for a moment before he shook his head slightly and handed you the huge glass of water.

“Drink it.”

“Oh I’m not thirsty.”

“Drink it,” he repeated and you heaved a sigh, then took a sip of it before lowering the glass to your lap.

“I’m pretty sure those cocktails will knock you out but off the chance that you wake up still drunk, I need you to promise me—” Logan started but a tiny lint on the skirt of your dress caught your attention, making you distracted. You pulled at it with a frown but felt Logan tilt your chin up so that you could look up at him.

“Eyes on me princess, look at me.”

You could feel the warmth spreading through you as your eyes met his, pleasant goosebumps rising on your arms as you blinked up at him in adoration.

“Your voice is very deep,” you murmured and he smiled slightly.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“Don’t wander off to the street if you wake up in the middle of the night,” he said. “I need to get back to the institute but—”

“Or you could stay?” you asked, your voice soft in the quiet, dimly lit room and a shadow moved behind his hazel gaze, making your heart skip a beat. You knew he knew what you meant, and hope filled your system, making you feel nearly lightheaded at the possibility of him feeling half of the fire running through your veins.

You could swear there was some sort of invisible lighting crackling between you, making your breath catch in your throat as he traced your bottom lip with his thumb, making your eyes flutter close for a second before you looked up at him again.

“Logan…”

“That is not happening when you’re drunk, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and you pouted your brows together.

“It could.”

“It won’t.”

 You bit inside your cheek, blinking up at him and he frowned as if trying to pull himself together. His knuckles brushed over your cheekbone softly before he withdrew his hand, then leaned down to press his lips to the top of your head, making you heave a sigh.

“Call me when you wake up tomorrow,” he said before he pulled back, then walked out of the room.

You heard the front door open, then close and you let out a whine, then let yourself fall back on the bed, pressing your fingertips on your lips. A giggle you couldn’t stop climbed up your throat and you lowered your hand, then took off your dress to throw it to somewhere in the room before grabbing the covers to pull them over your head, a huge smile curling your lips as you closed your eyes, sleep pulling you into its warmth.

Bewitched

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

cw: 1800s mentality on marriage and women, pinning, bickering, enemies to lovers

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: as of right now, i'm not sure how long this series will be but i'm so excited for it! i tried to the reader as universal as possible but i did have to give her some sort of last name, so if that isn't your thing, you can always change it to fit. after the set up, i'll probably drop the last name.

bridgerton lore: ton (high society), debuting (when you begin dating/looking for a partner), spinster (an unmarried woman)

main masterlist

in early june, everyone returned back to england for this season and whispers of a french woman joining the ton spread around. one morning at breakfast, marie howlett was reading one of the gossip columns aloud to her family when her eldest brother, james walked into join them at the table.

"it says she's staying with her aunt, lady worthington. she is four and twenty and the only child. her passions are literature and painting. apparently, the queen has one of her paintings in her home..."

"she sounds lovely. doesn't she, james?" their mother said, hoping her boy was listening.

"she's a spinster." he says, eating some of the fruit on the table. "that's not viscountess material."

"the queen seems to find her to be diamond material." marie jabs.

james has never fallen for one of the diamonds. sure, their beauty is prominent and sometimes they can hold an intellectual conversation but for the most part they are simply shoved forward so the queen can take credit for their marriage.

"i have more important priorities this season."

"well, this season you should prioritize finding a viscountess." their mother bit at him.

during this time every year his mother gives james the same speech over and over again. the marriage speech. ever since his father died during battle, james has been plagued with not only his grief but also the weight of replacing his father and eventually having to find a replacement for his mother as well. instead of focusing on marriage, james kept himself busy either working or traveling and keeping his family afloat.

"mama, i promise i will find a wife at some point." james sighs. "i just haven't met anyone that can handle being my viscountess."

"what about the red headed girl from last season? you seemed to fancy her quite a bit."

"she married lord summers this past spring."

"and the munroe girl?"

"she's interested in mister brooks."

all his mother does is sigh in response to the news. he takes this as the perfect chance to escape the interrogation.

luckily for james, there was always an excuse to avoid marriage. in the past he's gotten close to making that walk down the aisle but something always held him back. he's never believed much in love or marriage past it's convenience. sure, he believed it was the blueprint of life, to take a wife and start a family but his marriage is seen as a much bigger deal.

all the mamas in the ton were practically throwing their daughters in his direction. at balls, he's always forcing marie to dance with him because if not, he will be forced to socialize with these young unintellectual girls who only value him for his money and title. james didn't want to have to nurture these girls. he would take care of his wife but he wanted someone who was independent from him.

ever since his father died in the war, james has always been guarded of his feelings. especially, when it came to love. when he went with his mother to identify his father's body, james swore on that day that he would never let love destroy him like it did his mother.

"remember, marie is debuting tonight at the first ball of the season." his mother called after him. "don't be late."

"i wouldn't miss it." he smiles at his little sister before dashing out the door and back to his study.

˖⋆࿐໋

a rainbow of silks are spread across your bed as you try to figure out what to wear tonight. if your mother was here, she would know exactly what would look best on you. it's only been three months since her passing yet the ache in your chest grows stronger day by day.

"what are you thinking of wearing tonight?" your aunt asks, lingering in the doorway.

"i'm not sure yet." you sigh, picking at the pretty gowns. "i like the light blue one."

arguably, it was the prettiest in the pile. so simple, you hoped to blend in among the wash of colors in the room tonight. the boning of the corset poked the left side of your ribs a little but beauty is pain.

as you got ready, the nerves started to kick in. by now you should be on your second or third child and pregnant with the next. why was love taking so long to find you?

ever since you were a little girl, you were a hopeless romantic. dreaming of your first kiss and getting married to your knight in shining armor. back home, there was a cruel joke that you were the girl before the wife. you get just close enough before they end it. afraid that the curse would travel with you.

"don't worry." you aunt hums, brushing your hair. "the queen picked you as her diamond for a reason."

"i know, i know." you nod, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. "i just wish mother was here with me."

"i do too, dear."

"she should've seen me married."

a small tear rolls down your pink painted cheeks. it feels like you let her down by not taking a husband before her illness got worse.

men have it so easy. there's no pressure from society put on them. you can marry at fifty to a nineteen year old if you so please because you know that they will marry you out of fear and desperation.

"who says she can't?" your aunts smile reflected in the mirror. "she's still looking down on you, probably working on sending you a lord or a duke for a husband as we speak."

"amusing." you giggle.

"imagine a viscount or a prince!"

both of you laugh at the possibility. viscounts and princes were usually swept up quickly in high society. all of them probably have pregnant wives by now.

"don't get too ahead of yourself."

˖⋆࿐໋

the queens ball was unlike anything you had ever seen. beautiful gardens, bright lights, and people gathered everywhere. inside the ballroom, the chandelier lights almost blind you.

like a hawk, lady chamberlain spots you two. she is an older lady and a close family friend. you haven't seen her since you were a little girl, surprised that she was able to recognize you.

"lady worthington and miss bowery, lovely to see you here!" the woman smiled, wrapping her arms around both of you.

"hello, lady chamberlain." you smile, feeling slightly at ease seeing a familiar face here.

"you look marvelous, sweetie." she smiles, taking in your appearance. at least someone appreciated all the bells and whistles that went into your dress for this evening. "truly like a diamond."

"thank you." you curtsy. a warm rose color rises to the surface of your cheeks at her compliment.

"let's go find that viscount i've told your aunt about." she says.

suddenly, she's pulling you and your aunt over to meet everyone.

quite some time has passed and yet you've only met barton's and a few lords. from one eligible bachelor to the next, it was the same process. you introduce yourself, dance, ask a bit about each other, jump into talks of marriage and children. it was all a bit overwhelming to say the least.

there's no news on a prince yet but lady chamberlain was holding out for a viscount while your aunt held out for a duke. meanwhile, you just needed someone with charm and charisma to save you from these godawful men of the ton.

"i'm going to get a drink." you announce, one the music ends.

in one of the dim corners of the room there was a refreshment table where you poured a hefty amount of wine into your glass and down as much of it –in a very unlady like manner– as you could before another person could find you.

it wasn't long until someone behind you clears their voice loudly.

"i was unaware that they taught women to drink like soldiers in france..."

you spin around quickly to face the man in front of you. he is gorgeous and... huge. dawned in white puffy shirt and a tight black vest with detailed buttons. he towered over you intimidatingly with a small smirk creeping on his lips from shocked expression.

"i-i deeply apologize, my lord. it was just grape juice." you laugh nervously, avoiding his piercing stare.

"hm..." he hums, lifting his hand up and letting his thumb swiftly glide under your lip to catch the bit of liquid there. you watch in awe as he licks the bit of wine off his thumb with a soft groan. "they must make 'grape juice' different in france."

never in your whole life have you been left so speechless. a gentleman has never done more so than touch your hand, let alone act so scandalous. with a satisfied smirk, the man walks away to join a small group of young women. thank goodness that no one seemed to have noticed.

"miss bowery!" lady chamberlain called after you. "i want you to come meet the howletts."

swiftly, you get back to her as she approach a mother and daughter. both of them were stunningly and wore expensive looking gowns with luxurious jewels. lady chamberlains wide smile only made you grow more anxious.

"meet lady howlett and her daughter, the honorable, marie howlett." lady chamberlain introduced.

"lovely to meet you." you say, bowing gracefully before them.

"where is viscount james?" lady chamberlain asks.

"oh! he should be around here somewhere..." the woman looked behind the two of you until she flagged someone down. “there he is!”

the moment that you looked up at the viscount, you feared your heart might explode right then and there. silently pray to the gods above that he won't mention your previous encounter.

"miss bowery, this is my son, viscount james logan howlett." lady howlett announces proudly.

"what a pleasure to meet you, miss bowery." james smirked, trying to get a rise out of you.

"as is it for me, my lord." you curtsy politely, feeling hot under his gaze.

a cloud of lust fogs james mind at the words, my lord fell from your pretty, slightly berry colored lips. the lower his eyes drift from your face, the tighter his trousers get. every exquisite curve is highlighted by the way that the silk fell on your frame, reminding him of the goddesses he had only seen in the finest of paintings.

"might you wish to accompany me to a dance?" he asks, extending his hand to you.

you nod, offering him your gloved hand in return.

the two of you make your way to the dance floor with everyone else. the orchestra begins and you quickly fall in sync with each other.

"how are you enjoying england?" james asks.

"it's quite lovely." you lie.

"better than france?" he questioned with a small tilt of his head.

"no." you giggle softly. "nowhere on earth is better than home."

"i suppose i cannot argue with that."

"have you journed to france?"

"once. when i was younger, i went with my father. he loved france."

"that's why my mother left england. she fell in love with my father when she visited france."

"they must be true romantics."

"oh, most definitely." you smile.

carefully, logan spins you twice. never letting you stumble over your own two feet like most men would.

"i truly am sorry for earlier, my lord. that was completely unacceptable for a–"

"it's alright, sweetheart." the viscount cut you off with a chuckle. "your secret is safe with me."

james looks down to see your big round eyes sparkle up at him with great appreciation. there's a unique feeling blooming deep in his chest that he can't quite put his finger on.

"i heard from some mamas that you are seeking to wed this season." you say, looking elsewhere as the two of you pull apart.

"seeking is such a complex word." he sighs amusingly.

"i imagine it would be difficult to find a future viscountess."

"you have no idea."

all around you, you can see the women openly fawning over the viscount. some fan themselves while other clutch their jewels with either anger at you or lust for him. any of those women would duel to be in your shoes right now.

"do you have a desire to be viscountess?" his question made your heartbeat increase, pounding in your chest.

as a young girl, you watched your family struggle in order to survive so it would be a lie to say that you don't dream of having a tittle. you have a father back in france to take care of in his elder age. but love was your main desire. you would marry a sweet common man as long as he loved you.

"i desire to be loved." you tell him.

the answer caught james off guard. the women of the ton had no issue telling him to his face that they want his tittle or money. none of those women actually cared about love.

"well, my darling, you are quite the fool to be seeking out something as pure as love in a place such as this." james says, pulling you so close that you can feel his heartbeat in his chest and his eyes darken.

"don't be so cock-sure, viscount howlett. i am no fool at all." you glare angrily up at him. "i wish you well on your journey to find such a bird-witted viscountess."

the song ends and you are quick to make an exit. hot on your heels, james follows you outside. perhaps you shouldn't have insulted the viscount to his face but you didn't quite care anymore. this night has been a bust and you aren't any closer to marriage then you were before walking in here.

"miss, bowery..." a man calls, capturing your attention. "would you accompany me to a dance?"

based on the man's appearance, he seems even more important that the viscount. he was definitely the opposite of james. this man wore light grey in places where james wore black. this man had a sweet smile where james had a scowl.

"her dance card is full." the voice behind you threatened.

the gentleman's face fell a little.

"actually, i have one last spot open on my dance card." you smile, showing him the tag tied to your right wrist which had exactly one spot open. "i would love to accompany you..."

"prince harrison." he grins.

you hum, offering your hand. the prince leans down and kissed your gloved fingers before sweeping you off to the dance floor again.

james fumed as he watched you walk away with the prince. lady howlett spots her son alone and walks over to him.

“please tell me that you did not scare off this seasons diamond, james.” lady howlett asked in a low whisper.

“i’m gonna call a carriage” he growls, annoyed.

“dear!”

his mother called after him but he couldn’t care to turn around and stay here any longer.

˖⋆࿐໋

on the carriage ride alone, james is stuck with the image of you. your beauty and the pain in your eyes when james called you a fool. oddly enough, james enjoyed the way you bit back at him. he just wishes that he hadn’t offended you.

apparently you must not be that hurt if you accepted a dance from harrison of all people. not because he wanted to court you but because harrison was barely considered a prince and was a poor excuse of a man. never having to lift a finger a day in his life. never knowing a single struggle. the prince was insufferable.

perhaps it was in james best interest to forget about the beautiful woman he met this evening. she is this seasons diamond after all, desired by too many. james wasn't known to chase the things he desired.

──★

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Weekend Getaway (wolverine/logan howlett x fem!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

wolverine/logan howlett x f!reader Word Count: 4.1K Rating: E

Summary: Logan surprises you with a romantic getaway to celebrate your 1-year anniversary together. He opens up about his intentions for the future with you and building a life together.

Or simply… Logan wants to know your thoughts on marriage and the possibility of children.

Warning: domestic!logan, established relationship, flirting, language, fluff, pet names, smutty flashback (blowjob), size kink, dirty talk (filthy logan), implied p in v sex, breeding kink, more implied smut (they are horny — it’s their anniversary), I guess reader has a nickname (doc), wealthy!logan (this will make sense once you read it)

A/N: This can be seen as part of my Into the Unknown universe, but this can be read as a standalone.

Previous (Part 1) (Part 2)

xx

Lake Mohonk, New York

One year.

A year filled with more light and laughter than he had ever thought possible.

One year. With you.

He sped down the winding roads of Hudson Valley, a warmth radiated through him, pulling a contented smile to his lips. The sun-drenched landscape blurred past, vibrant greens and golden hues melding together like a canvas. He stole a glance at you, the soft light filtering through his truck windows highlighting your features, and he felt an overwhelming surge of affection.

His fingers began to draw gentle patterns against the fabric of your jeans, tracing lazy circles and soft lines that sent a tingle up your spine. The warmth of his palm against your skin ignited a thrill of excitement. You couldn’t help but lean closer. With a playful spark in your eyes, you reached over the console, your lips finding his for a messy, and urgent kiss. He groaned when you bit at his lower lip and you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

“We’ve been driving for over an hour. Seriously, where are we going?” you asked.

He chuckled, a knowing smile spreading across his face. “I’m still not goin’ to tell you,” he replied, licking his lips.

You pouted at his teasing, your mind racing with possibilities. “You know I hate surprises,” you protested, playfully nudging him with your shoulder.

He glanced down at your hand, which had unconsciously found its way to his growing erection. You loved knowing that a simple kiss could get him going. “Doc,” he hissed, “we’re close, so stop your teasin’ and be a good girl,”

Good girl. A tingle started spreading between your legs.

The thought of celebrating your anniversary at Lake Mohonk, nestled south of the majestic Catskill Mountains, filled Logan with anticipation. He had planned this surprise and escape meticulously. You worked so hard, and he was happy you were able to get someone to cover your shift at the hospital tomorrow so that you two could enjoy the long weekend. He wanted to make this perfect for you.

Your pout deepened, frustration mingling with desire.

“Patience, Doc,” he said. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, focus shifting back to the road, while your eyes roamed over him, captivated by the way his jawline flexed and the hint of a smile played at his lips.

“Are you seriously declining road head?” you teased, but also felt your mouth water since you could see Logan straining through his jeans.

“Shut up,” he growled, his eyes flicking to you, desire pooling in those deep hazel depths before returning to the road. You knew what he was thinking of.

You couldn’t shake the heat of a recent memory where he had leaned back into the worn leather seat, and you had taken your time, savoring the moment as you unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink echoing in his truck. When you finally pulled down his zipper, the way he inhaled sharply sent a shiver of satisfaction through you. You remembered feeling the warmth of his skin as you wrapped your hand around him, and the soft gasp that escaped his lips. You had leaned in, your mouth inches away, teasing him with your breath until he’d groaned, a deep sound that reverberated within you, making your own pulse race.

As you finally took him into your mouth, the taste of him enveloped your senses. Each movement was deliberate and controlled, guided by the rhythm of his groans and soft curses. You could feel how he throbbed in your mouth, the pressure building as you found a sweet spot that had each snap of his hips get desperate as he thrust roughly into your sweet mouth until he hit the back of your throat, and you gagged while you watched him just so lost in the pleasure you were giving him.

You remembered glancing up, teary-eyed, meeting his eyes to see them dark with lust, his jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck taut as he tried to stifle the raw need that surged through him. The excitement of knowing you had him at the edge of his control sent waves of heat flooding through you, and a soft moan of pleasure escaped from your throat, sending vibrations through him. Finally, his body tensed, and he spilled hot down the back of your throat moaning out your name while you swallowed it down.

You leaned back in your seat as you allowed your fingers to slide back and forth across his thigh, testing the waters. “Maybe you should change your mind,” you countered playfully, biting your lip. “A little distraction could be fun.”

The tense muscles in his thigh flexed under your touch, and he shot you a warning glance that was only half-serious. “You don’t make it easy, do you?”

The road twisted ahead, lined with wildflowers and tall trees bursting with life, but all you could focus on was your handsome man beside you.

As Logan's truck rounded the final bend, the sprawling view of the Mohonk Mountain House came into sight. The sun, now beginning to dip low in the sky, enveloped the historic resort in a warm, golden glow, casting reflections off the shimmering waters of Lake Mohonk. Towering stone walls and ivy-covered terraces gave the place an air of timeless luxury, a fairytale Victorian castle resort seemingly plucked from the pages of a storybook.

You stared, your mouth agape, unable to process what lay before you. This wasn’t just a getaway; it was one of the most exclusive resorts in the region. Logan pulled into the parking lot, his demeanor calm and collected, but you could feel the excitement radiating from him.

“Logan,” you breathed, finally breaking the silence as he turned off the engine. “Are you serious? This place is… it’s incredible!” Your voice came out a mix of awe and disbelief, and you felt your heart flutter at the thought of spending a weekend here.

He turned to you, his hazel eyes sparkling with warmth. “I told you it would be worth the wait,” he said, a smug grin on his face. “I wanted to do somethin’ special for our anniversary, and I figured you deserved a little luxury after all your hard work.”

“Anniversary?” you questioned.

Logan's confident demeanor faltered just the slightest as he rubbed the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic shyness creeping onto his rugged features. The blush that crept across his cheeks only made him more endearing. “Well, about this time last year,” he murmured, a sheepish smile breaking across his face, “was when we started datin’ and stuff.”

“But the first time we slept together isn’t for a few weeks,” you said, tilting your head to the side.

Logan laughed, a low, rich sound that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Dirty girl…” he winked. “I’m countin’ from the first time I kissed you at the Harvest Festival,”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the memory of that first kiss replaying vividly in your mind. You were utterly taken aback by the depth of Logan's thoughtfulness. This gesture was big. It wasn’t that Logan wasn’t romantic; it was more that he expressed his love in ways you sometimes found hard to decipher. His main love language was rooted in acts of service—you had seen it time and time again. He showed his affection by helping you with tasks, and surprising you with little gestures that made your life easier. From the way he made sure you had your favorite coffee in the mornings to always taking care of the chores you dreaded, Logan poured his heart into the little things.

But this? This was something else entirely. This was grand. You had always seen him as someone who might shy away from overt romantic displays, preferring to communicate through the rhythm of daily life. The way he cared for you wasn’t loud or flashy; it was in the quiet and steadfast ways he made your world a better place.

You reached out, playful fingers brushing against his beard, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. “Okay, so one year from our first kiss,” you said, teasingly rolling your eyes. “I guess that’s still worth celebrating.”

Logan turned in his seat, resting his elbow on the console. “Get your ass outta this truck so we can check in and enjoy our suite. I’ve got plans, y’know?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Plans? What kind of plans? I mean, aside from getting me to fall for you all over again?”

You felt his lips —soft and teasing—trailing a path from your cheek down your neck. “You’re goin’ to be a good girl and take what I give you over and over again,” he murmured, against your ear.

You whimpered and bit your bottom lip, and felt the fabric of your panties get impossibly wet.

He then took your chin in his rough, calloused hand, tilting your face toward his. Your breath hitched as he closed the distance, his lips crashing down on yours, and you melted into the kiss. His hands moved deftly, sliding from your chin to the back of your neck, holding you in place as the kiss deepened, igniting a fire that spread through your body.

You responded eagerly, fingers running through his hair, feeling the tension in his shoulders as he pressed closer, the hard lines of his body pressing against you.

Pulling back slightly, Logan’s breath was ragged, eyes dark with desire as he searched your face. “And I’m goin’ to make you come over and over again until you’re beggin’ me to stop,” he muttered, his thumb grazing your bottom lip.

You knew from experience that Logan wasn’t just talk, he always executed on his promises, and the thought of him fucking you until your mind went blank had you ripping the truck door open and sprinting towards the resort entrance.

xx

After multiple rounds of Logan practically bending you in half, you had lost count of how many times he had made you come as you laid together on the mattress together, and you put your head on his chest feeling exhausted and sore. He was explaining your itinerary for the long weekend – a hiking trail tomorrow, on Friday. Canoeing on the lake on Saturday. And he had booked you a spa treatment on Sunday before you guys would drive back to Westchester.  

He emphasized that there would be a lot of fine dining and sex over the weekend as well.

You shook your head in disbelief, still processing the grandeur of the suite. Logan had booked the Victorian Mountain View Suite, and you couldn’t help but wonder how much money this all was. “This must’ve cost a fortune…,” you said, feeling an odd mix of gratitude and concern. “Are you sure we can afford this?”

While you were a doctor, you had barley been making any money as a resident. When you met Logan, you had just completed your fellowship and had only just become a board-certified attending physician. Even though you were a grown woman, it felt like you had only recently started making real money. When you and Logan moved in together, he felt the need to be the provider and didn’t want you to help pay the rent and basically covered all the bills. He would get so mad at you whenever you tried to spend money on yourself, or the two of you, and especially if it was just for him. You would always frown and tell him that you felt bad and would remind him that you made your own money, and he would always tell you, ‘I got you, Doc. Lemme take care of you.’ He had that ‘old school’ mentality considering the man was centuries old, but you always wondered, how could he afford to do all of this? Was Professor Xavier really paying the X-Men all that much in compensation?

Logan shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, the sheets tangled around his muscular frame as he looked down at you, a twinkle in his hazel eyes. The soft glow of the fading sunset peeked through the grand windows, enveloping the suite in a warm golden hue. You felt his gaze as he opened his mouth to respond.

“Alright, Doc,” he began, the playful tone lacing his voice making you smile. “You might want to sit up for this.”

Curiosity piqued, you pushed yourself up on your elbows, feeling your heart race. “What is it?” you asked, your voice laced with anticipation.

“Well, back in the 60’s, I made a pretty good investment.”

“An investment?” you echoed, slightly confused. “In what?”

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Xerox.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Xerox? The photocopier company?”

“Yep,” he replied, nodding like it was the most normal thing in the world. “There was all this hype bout’ their technology back then, and I saw the potential.”

Stunned, you took a moment to process his words. You were struggling to find you own words, caught somewhere between disbelief and awe. “Logan, that’s insane! Did you really make enough from that to—?”

“Let’s just say,” he interrupted, his smirk widening, “I held onto those shares for a few decades longer than most folks would think to. By the time the ‘90s rolled around, I was sittin’ pretty. Sold a majority of it. Enough to afford… whatever I want,” He gestured to the extravagant suite.

You shook your head. “Wow,”

Logan appreciated the strong, capable woman you were. You held your own as a physician, dedicated to your craft and committed to your career, but it also pained him to see you shoulder the weight of medical school debt. To him, it didn’t feel fair for you to bear so much, especially when he had decades’ worth of financial security at his fingertips. Logan wanted to be the one who could take care of you in a way that felt right—not in a patronizing way, but simply as a partner who cherished and adored you.

He honestly wanted to wipe away your medical school debt, but he knew you would tear him a new asshole for suggesting that. He could see the mental image of you with your hands on your hips, brow furrowed; your voice rising as you vehemently rejected the idea. You would shout about how you were perfectly capable of handling it on your own and he could already hear your retort, sharp and quick, ripping into him about pride and independence.

Logan's gaze softened, a contemplative look settling across his rugged features. “You know, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about our future,” he began, his voice steady yet slightly hesitant. “You moved all the way from a large mountain house in Alberta to this tiny place near the X-Mansion for me, and I can’t help but feel like I owe you more than just this weekend.”

You blinked, stunned by the weight of his words. “You don’t owe me anything,”

He continued, vulnerability filling his tone. “I want you to feel comfortable, Doc. Our life together should be more than just an apartment—you deserve a home, a place where we can build memories. A house where we can settle. I’m thinkin’ of somethin’ a little more permanent. I want to buy us a real home, y’know?”

A whirlwind of emotions swirled in your chest as you processed his words. “A house?” you repeated.

Logan watched your face closely. He felt a surge of hope intertwined with fear running through him, the kind of fear that walked hand-in-hand with vulnerability. It was a new experience for him, this openness. The kind of thing he’d always shielded himself from, but for you, it felt natural, even necessary.

“Doc,” he began, his voice steady, though a sliver of nervousness crept in as he continued. “What are your thoughts on gettin’ married one day?”

There it was, the big question, the leap into something he’d never truly considered until now. He had spent centuries existing, but settling down, building a life with someone—it was new territory he was excited to explore, though the prospect of it terrified him.

He held onto your gaze, searching for any hint of unease. He watched as a smile stretched across your lips, brightening your expression and lighting a fire in his chest. “Logan,” you said softly, the way you always did when you wanted him to know you were in his corner. “I’ve thought about it,” you said shyly. “A lot, actually,” you admitted.

He could feel the tension ebb slightly, the knot in his stomach loosening, but it quickly tightened again when he shifted to the next question, the one that made even him feel vulnerable. “And kids?” He watched as your eyes widened a touch, the impact of his question hanging heavily between both.

Kids. The thought had crossed his mind, more than once. Even though he knew you were on birth control, there was a small part of him that couldn’t help but wonder. What if it failed? Or perhaps a part of him sometimes hoped you missed a day. The idea of you carrying his child stirred a mix of emotions within him. Fear, uncertainty, but also a flicker of excitement. The idea of creating a life together, of having someone who was part of both of you, was intoxicating.

Whenever you would whine and tell him to come inside of you, he would spill everything that was left of him inside your perfect cunt… wondering if one day it would stick. Sometimes it was him asking you… maybe even begging you if he could finish inside of you and telling you how much he needed it. He would paint your insides white, filling you up, and gasping your name with a guttural groan that vibrated from his chest.

He imagined what it would be like to have a child with you. Would they have your eyes? Your laugh? Could he teach them what it meant to be strong, to fight for what is right? It was a fleeting thought. But in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your presence, he couldn’t help but dream, even if only for a heartbeat, of what could be.

He felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. He searched your features for any signs of rejection, but instead of pulling away, you leaned closer, your brow furrowing in thought.

“Hey,” you started, your voice steady. “You really want to know what I think?”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied, trying to keep his tone casual.

Taking a deep breath, you seemed to gather your thoughts—a trait he admired so much about you. “I think marriage is… a beautiful thing. I want it one day, not right this second, but the thought of saying ‘I do’ to you? That makes sense, Logan. It feels right.”

He felt a warmth spread through his chest at your words. But then he remembered his question about kids, and anxiety returned.

“But kids…” you continued, a slight nervousness creeping in—but you pressed on. “I want to have a family, eventually. And, I could picture it with you, you know? You… and me… kids—”

“Yeah?” he urged, his pulse quickening. The thought of you being the mother of his children—he could suddenly see it like a flash in his mind.

“But it’s a big step,” you said, your smile wavering just a bit, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of the sheets. “I just want to make sure we’re ready for that part of our lives. I mean, can you even—”

“Can I what?” he asked, stubborn pride flaring up like it tended to do whenever he sensed hesitation in your words.

“Handle all that responsibility?” you said, fixing him with a sincere stare. “It’s not a small thing to have kids, Logan. It’s life-changing.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he leaned back against the headboard, stretching out his arms. He nodded, understanding what you were saying and appreciating the weight of it. “I get it, Doc. It’s not a small thing, but it’s somethin’ I want. With you. And… only you.”

“Logan…” you said, searching for the right words. The gravity of his confession intertwined with your emotions, and it was hard to articulate the feeling swirling within you. “I want that too,” you admitted, your voice quiet. “It’s scary to think about, but I can see it. With you. And only you, too,” you parroted back, tracing a finger along the line of his jaw.

“If we were to, y’know, have kids… there’s a chance they could be mutants. Would that… would that bother you?” he murmured, his voice laced with a seriousness that made you pull back slightly, searching his gaze.

You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, grounding him in your comfort. “Of course, it wouldn’t bother me, if anything, it would make them even more special.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features, a crease forming between his brows as he absorbed your response. “Really?” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing a bit.

“Really,” you affirmed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against his lips, before pulling away.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, a grounding gesture that settled your racing heart. “I’m not rushin’ you. I just wanted to know how you feel about it. ‘Cause I see a future with you. A real one,”

Your eyes glistened while you gazed up lovingly at him, and your hands came up to card through his hair. “I love you so much Logan,”

“I love you too, Doc,” he replied, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

As you settled back into the tangle of sheets, it felt as if the world outside ceased to exist— it was just the two of you in this room.

“You know,” you murmured softly, resting your head on his shoulder, “Just because apparently you’re fucking rich doesn’t mean that we’re getting one of those McMansions in Westchester,”

Logan chuckled, the warm rumble in his chest causing a flutter deep inside you. “Don’t worry. I have no interest in those cookie-cutter places. I’m thinkin’ somethin’ more personal— with character, y’know?” he said.

You smiled, picturing it: a cozy home with wood accents and a welcoming front porch under the shade of towering trees. A place where you could create lasting memories, filled with laughter, love, and maybe a little chaos if your future kids had anything to say about it. “I can see that,” you said, your voice softer as you allowed yourself to dream.

"Mmhm," he grunted.

“Just promise me one thing,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

“Anythin’ baby,” he replied, genuine sincerity resting in every word.

“Right before we build our dream house, you’re not going to sell any more investments without consulting me first,” you teased, the corners of your mouth quirking up into a smile.

“I promise,” he said.

The laughter that bubbled between you filled the room, a soothing balm for the more serious conversation that had just unfolded. Logan wrapped you tighter in his embrace, your head continuing to rest comfortably against his shoulder as he drifted into a serene silence. You could hear the steady thump of his heartbeat.

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, leaving behind streaks of peach and violet across the sky, you felt the weight of the day lift.

“Hey, baby,” Logan’s voice broke through your thoughts, warm and inviting.

“Yeah?” you replied, looking up at him, heart fluttering at the adoration in his gaze.

“You wanna make some more new memories tonight?” he asked playfully.

“If you mean by letting you worship me, then yes,” you replied cheekily.

With a smirk, Logan leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Oh, I plan on worshipin’ you, alright,” he murmured, his voice low and alluring. His fingertips began to roam, trailing teasing patterns along your arm, sending shivers of anticipation through your body.

You giggled softly, feeling a delightful thrill at the invitation his words promised. “You’re insatiable,” you teased.

Logan captured your mouth, and you moaned softly against his lips, feeling your desire building once more as his warm hands slid beneath your shirt, gliding over the soft skin of your abdomen.

As he pulled you closer, he marveled at how easily you could bridge the barrier of his past—two hundred years of heartache and solitude softened by the warmth of your love. In that moment, he knew, whatever the future held—the house, marriage, kids —it would all be worth it, as long as he faced it with you.

And if you became his wife – maybe you wouldn’t complain about him wiping away your medical school debt…

xx

I think it’s the end for these two, I was brain-rotting on this 3-parter fic with the idea of domestic AF Logan. He fucking deserves it. Happy to take requests if people are interested in seeing additional moments of these two!

The Xerox idea came from the movie the Age of Adaline when a woman born in the early 1900’s stops aging following a freak accident, and they provided a background story for how she was able to afford her lifestyle in this current day and age with the Xerox investment. There’s a part of me that would like to think that Logan would have done something similar having spent so much time on earth, and he would just be a secret multimillionaire who lived a super humble life. There’s just something about him being a fucking hot lumberjack / X-Men member who’s also secretly wealthy that turns me on to no end.

wealthy!logan… somebody SEDATE me.

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

Baby Come Over

Wolverine/Logan Howlett x black fem reader

gif made by blursbian

Summary: Wade is hellbent of getting you to meet his new roommate, but what is his motive? (Note: I am not the best writer, but I had motivation, and the title is definitely not taken from Virgo’s Groove)

Warning: drunken asshole, Wade Wilson, cursing, unprotected piv smut (wrap it before you tap it) fingering, riding, soft!dom Logan MDNI 18+

Word Count: 4.2

-

Wade encouraged you to meet the new man in his life, not knowing if it was a new friend, a boyfriend, or someone he wanted to pursue romantically. Knowing him, it was probably both, but you agreed anyway. "Come on, sugar. I'm a vigilante, you're a fine-as-wine vigilante, and he's an old but good-looking mutant who needs some TLC— he'll love you immediately," Wade insisted, bringing it up again as you two talked over a late dinner while sitting on his couch.

Wade, I have to work all next week," you said, trying to get out of it. "Yeah, bartending is so hard. When was the last time you got laid? The pink vibrator doesn't count," he added for extra measure, almost making you slap him. "None of your business. Besides, I don't ask about your business even though we, unfortunately, share a wall. And why did you go through my drawer?!”

“My point being said, he needs friends, you need a new one, and if you won’t be with him I will! And besides, I'm Marvel Jesus, there's nothing I can’t do!” Wade insisted, emphasizing his statement with his hands and ignoring your question.

You knew better than to argue with him because he could go on for hours, so you agreed. You had pulled your braids into a ponytail and walked next door, where you saw the small get-together Wade had arranged. “Sweetie! You made it!” he cheered, answering the door, and dragging you in. He put you in front of him as he walked you to the back of the apartment, where Logan wasn’t facing you.

“He’s a bit grumpy today, but I’ll talk to him. Hey, three-pronged wolf!” Wade said, trying to get his attention.

He got it all right.

Before you could even introduce yourself you felt something pierce your arm, three things. You were met with the face of a man who looked like he was ready to knock someone out, it was Logan. His face quickly changed when he realized he hadn’t stabbed Wade, and immediately tried to cover the wound he made. “Ah, shit!” He cursed, looking you in the eyes.

“Now this is not how we greet potential lovers, gramps! Shame on you.” Wade scolded playfully, looking between you and Logan. “Well that’s a good icebreaker, or skin breaker I should say.” He said, looking at your already healing skin.

“Well, Logan, this is my best friend, she heals like us, curses like me. Sugar, this is Logan, the old good-looking man you should kiss for helping save the timeline. Do not fuck on my bed, and I don’t babysit.” He said, patting your cheek before walking away. You watched him leave and then leaned on the wall.

“Hell of an introduction, neighbor,” You said, trying to start a conversation. He didn’t respond but kept looking over your features as you did the same. Wade hit one thing on the mark: He was fine as hell. “How long have you known him?” Logan asked. “Ehhh, a couple of months, he’s good people, but he can be annoying as fuck some.” You said, that you two agreed.

It turns out that you both had something in common, besides the healing factor. Both of you were no strangers to drinks, and pain was a familiar feeling for both of you.

And that was how the foundation of the friendship was built. You didn’t talk much, mostly just passing each other in the hallway, a short greeting when you left for work and coming back home. That was until he found the bar you worked in. It was 5 minutes before closing, and you heard the man sit down. “What’ll it be buddy?” You asked, still wiping down the table with your back towards him.

“Whatever’s left.” Logan’s voice said, cutting through the faint sound of Sade’s voice coming through the jukebox. Your head snapped around at the familiar tone of the voice. “Wade mentioned you worked in a bar, been wondering which one it was,” Logan said, sitting down at the bar. “You didn’t think to look at the closest bar which is only a 15-minute walk from here?” You asked, leaning on the bar, a laugh leaving your lips.

He reached over, grabbed a bottle of beer, and shrugged, “Good point.” He said while taking a drink, a long one. “Let me guess. Roommate annoyance?” You asked, seeing him set down the bottle, and bringing him another one. “Yep. He made me leave the place today.” Logan explained. “Any reason for him kicking you out?” You joked, meeting his ever-so-serious eyes.

“He said either I try and make friends, or he walks around naked until I leave.” He said, almost making you cringe, “No one wants to see that.” Logan let out a short hum, before downing the beer before putting it down. As

You reached for the bottle your hand brushed his, and your eyes met in an awkward look. “Sorry-.” “My bad.” You both said at the same time. Logan then held your hand, moving it completely taking it off the bottle, and set it down behind the bar for you with his other hand.

“There. Less confusion.” He said, sitting back down. You nodded and looked at your still joined hands, noticing how his completely covered yours. You allowed yourself one more look before slowly sliding it out of his hands. As you finished cleaning up and locking up the bar, Logan stayed. As you walked back to the apartments, he walked beside you, in total silence, and both of you did.

That’s how it continued for almost a whopping 2 months. He’d show up for the last call, talk until closing, and walk you home in silence.

Until one night Logan walked in 1 hour earlier than his normal time. “You’re here early.” You pointed out, looking at the clock above the door. “Well, Wade mentioned something about you hating thunderstorms, thought you might want a familiar face around.” You never froze so fast in your life. “Oh? He told you that?” You asked, passing him a beer, Logan nodding in response.

“What if I told you he lied?” You asked, seeing him stop mid-drink to look at you, eyes with confusion. “I’m gonna strangle him,” Logan said. “He’d probably like it,” then you thought for a moment, “No, he’d love that.” He dropped the beer just in time for you to see a chuckle leave his lips with the taste of a smile, and your heart jumped. You already found him attractive, but that smile could’ve made an entire country swoon and sigh.

You looked away just in time for him to not catch you staring. “So, what do you do other than work?” Logan asked. “Vigilantism.” You replied, holding up another beer, switching up his empty bottle for a new cold one. “What did you do in your universe?” You asked. “Was a part of a team, had a suit and everything,” Logan explained. “Did they have abilities like you?” You asked, cleaning up some glasses while he talked. “Better. Way better than these claws in my skin.” He said, looking down at the counter harder than he should've.

You heard a little bit of how he was “the worst Wolverine” from Wade, and given how he was acting right now, he might have told the truth. “You remind me of one of them too. You don't look like her, but your mannerism reminds me of her.” Logan added. You took a chance and put a hand over his, “I won't pry, but if you ever want to talk, let me know.” He looked up at you with a greatful gaze, nodding his head and letting his hand hold yours.

You then looked at the clock and took your hand away from his “Closing time. Imma lock up real quick.” You said, wiping down the tables. As you were about to lock up, one man stumbled in. “We’re closed man. Go home.” You yelled. “One beer, sweetheart, it’s all I ask.” The random drunk asked, now grabbing onto your sleeve. “Were closed. Let go.” You said in a harsher tone. Trying to get your sleeve free.

“Come on sugar, just one drink.” He asked, eyes looking you up and down. “Dude. Let go!” You yelled, now trying to get his hand off you, but he had a strong grip on your wrist. Before he could respond Logan grabbed his arm, freeing you and walking him out. “Hey man what are you-.” Before he could finish Logan put his claws under the man’s neck. “The lady asked you 3 times to leave. I’m giving you 3 seconds to bounce before these find a home in your neck.”

The man stumbled back before slipping out the door. “You alright?” He asked, looking at your torn sleeve. “I’m alright.” You sighed, putting your jacket on. He walked next to you that night, almost arm and arm with you while you both made small talk. “I could’ve handled that asshole you know?” You asked him, bringing up the drunken man again. “I know, just wanted to do it.” He said, lighting a cigar, smirking, making you chuckle. “There she is.” He said, looking down at you. “What there? You asked, now across the street from the apartment. “That smile.” He said, still smoking the cigar.

As you opened the door to the building, you missed the faint blush on his cheeks. But you didn’t miss that look in his eyes and the way he looked over your body. But as he tried to open the door to his shared apartment, it was locked. “Are you fucking serious?” Logan said, now banging on the door. “Wade! Open the door!” he yelled.

Wade locked me out, and he’s not waking up.” He said, looking over at you. “I’ll try and call him.” You said, pulling out your phone and trying to call him, only for it to go straight to voicemail. “This son of a bitch.” you sighed, and put your phone away. You could tell what Logan was about to ask, so you beat him to it.

“I got a couch,” you said, unlocking your door. “I don't want to-.” “Logan, come over,” you interrupted, moving. so he could get in. You could tell he wanted to protest, but he knew he didn’t have a choice or another place to sleep. He gave the space a once-over and nodded. “Nice place,” Logan said.“I'm gonna take a quick shower, and I’ll be right out,” You said, he nodded in acknowledgment.

You turned on your heel, went down the hallway, and hopped in the bathroom. After 15 minutes you put on an oversized shirt and sleep short and walked to your close. You grabbed an extra pillow and top sheet for him.

“Here I got-.” Before you could finish you saw Logan with his shirt off looking you up and down. It was then you remembered you had gotten out of the shower, only wearing an oversized shirt and your shorts, that barely covered your thighs.

You saw his eyes staring at your legs, and then back up at you. His eyes were hungry with desire, and it was safe to say yours were too. His and was clenching and unclenching by his side. “Honey,” he breathed, “go to bed before I make a mistake.” You didn’t move, you didn’t dare. You moved closer, setting the blanket and pillow on the couch, your eyes never leaving his. “Please, walk away,” Logan said, licking his lips. “Why? When we both want the same thing?” You asked.

You swear you saw his breathing stop.

That was all he needed. He surged forward, claiming your lips with his. You could still taste the beer on his lips. His hand found your waist and then your thighs, lifting you, and groaned, looking up at you with a wolfish grin. Before he could say anything, you kissed him, your nails running through his hair as your tongue fought for control against his. His hands mapped out your skin, going over every contour and gripping your ass as he rolled his hips into yours.

A shiver ran through your veins, your thin shorts doing little to hide how much you wanted him, and he knew it. “Already? We’ve barely even started and you’re soaked?” He teased, one of his hands leaving your hips and dipping under the fabric. His fingers ran over your folds, his lips forming into a smirk as he sucked another mark into your neck. A soft moan left your lips as you felt two of his fingers dip into your cunt, “Oh fuck.”

“That’s it, honey, let me hear you,” Logan whispered. You let out a loud moan when his fingers hit your G-spot, your nails digging into his skin, emitting a groan from his lips. “Sorry.” You whispered, looking at him, only to see a feral smile on his lips. “You have no idea how much I loved that.” Logan groaned, his fingers working another finger in, making you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

“I wish you would.” He grunted, grabbed a handful of your braids, and pulled your head back, assaulting your neck with bites and kisses. “Logan!” You squealed, feeling his thumb find your clit. “Cum for me baby, let me hear it,” Logan whispered. Your hands made crescent marks on his back as you came undone, feeling his lips soothe you down from your climax.

You felt his fingers slowly come to a halt before Logan pulled his fingers out of you, his other hand letting go of your braids. “Still there, honey?” He asked, peppering kisses across your neck. You couldn’t even speak, your brain was still fogged from the orgasm you just went through. “Holy shit,” You breathed out. You finally cracked your eyes open, meeting Logan’s hungry eyes and seeing his fingers disappear in his mouth.

His tongue swirled around his digits, his eyes trained on yours. “Taste like heaven.” He said, licking his lips before claiming your lips in another kiss. You snapped out of the trance you were in as the taste of your juices hit your tongue.

You need him. You needed him now.

Your hand went to his pants, slipping under his jeans and finding his cock. He was rock-hard. He shuddered under your touch, a deep moan leaving his lips. Logan helped you get his jeans on the floor, his cock springing free and hitting his chest. “Goddamn. Someone’s blessed.” You whispered. “Is that someone you?” Logan asked, his hands slipping under the waistband of your underwear.

“Hold still for me baby,” he sighed and your arms framed his shoulders. You heard his claws come out and slice your bottoms off. “Someone’s done that before.” You teased, watching as his hand threw the fabric on the floor. Logan didn’t respond as he started to pick you up, but you held him firmly on the couch. “Nope, stay right there.” You breathed you, stroking his cock a few times.

He watched your hand pump him before positioning yourself above him. Logan’s eyes were trained on your pussy as you eased onto him. As you finally bottomed out, Logan let out a loud moan, and it almost made you cum on the spot. “Goddamn, you trying to kill me?” He asked, his hands going back to your hips. You didn’t respond as you started to move up and down, riding his cock.

Logan did little to stop the moans that were leaving his lips. “Fuck, honey. You’re squeezing me like a goddamn vice,” Logan sighed, letting you set the pace. You kissed his neck and sucked marks into his neck, not giving a damn that they wouldn’t be there tomorrow. As you bit one spot closer to his collarbone, he let out a whine. You focused on that spot and bounced on his cock a little faster.

He suddenly gripped your hips as a broken moan left his lips, “Fuck, wait.” He sighed, holding you still on his cock. “Why’d you make me stop?” You asked, looking at his screwed-shut eyes. Logan suddenly grabbed you and picked you up, still keeping you on his cock. “Which one is your room?” He asked. “Down the hall to the left,” You said. Logan walked down the hallway and you thanked god you left the door open.

He laid you and climbed over you, kneeling on the bed and pulling you closer, his cock moving between your thighs to rest on top of your belly button. You leaned up and rested on your forearms, and looked back down at his cock. “To answer your question from earlier,” Logan said, leaning down and tilting your chin up to look at him, “I stopped you because there’s more room on a bed than a couch.”

He looked down at you and licked his lips before catching your lips in a passionate kiss. Your hand cupped his cheek as you returned it, your tongue finding its way into his mouth.

You were so caught up in his kisses you didn’t register the head of his cock tapping your clit until you felt it slam into you, a scream falling out of your lips. Logan laid you back in your sheets and let his hand that wasn’t holding your thigh trail in between your chest and down your stomach as he fucked you. “Keep those eyes open for me, ya hear?” He asked, you nodding in response.

He didn’t waste a second after. Logan’s cock began to thrust in and out of you, sliding almost all the way out of you to only slam back in, emitting a moan from you every time. You writhed under him, looking up at his wild and feral expression. His mouth was open, looking down at your fucked out one, moaning loudly as you held the pillow behind you.

You could hear the sound of your headboard hitting the wall, the grunts coming out of his mouth, and you didn’t give a damn if anyone heard. All you cared about was the amount of pleasure he was giving you. As he hit that one spot that cut your breath off, you bit the pillow and screwed your eyes shut.

Immediately you felt Logan stop and he grabbed your wrist with one hand and pinned it beside your head, his own hovering over yours. “I said eyes open, darling. And don’t even think of hiding those pretty fucking moans from me.” He whispered. He then dropped his hand from your thigh and put it over his.

He now used one hand to wipe the sweat off your forehead, “You still here honey?” He asked, you nodded in response and opened your eyes. Logan was grinning down at you, taking in your tired face, “There’s my girl.” He softly kisses your lips before picking up his bruising pace, making you scream again, “Logan!” Your nails found their way to his back, making marks on his skin. “That’s right honey, let everyone on this goddamn floor who’s fucking you,” Logan grunted, using his free hand to hold your hip, his fingers digging into your skin.

The bed was creaking more as his thrust picked up, one of his hands starting to play with your clit. You instinctively let out a high-pitched whine and you swore he growled for a moment. “Logan, I’m gonna-, oh fuck!” You moaned, your hips bucking into his as you writhed your bed. “Yeah that’s it, let me see you come.” Logan cooed, His hand working your clit faster.

It didn’t take long for a long moan to erupt out of your mouth, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. Your walls squeezed him like a vice as his free thumb caressed your chin. “Now that’s a sight I need to see more of.” Logan moaned with a smile on his face. You felt his hips pick up the pace and his moans getting louder as he was on the verge of his orgasm, both of his hands now holding your legs open.

“Tell me where honey,” Logan asked, looking down at you. Your legs only pulled him closer, and that was all the confirmation he needed. A sinful whimper left his lips as he spilled into you, his eyes screwing shut. Logan held himself up and let the waves of the orgasm wear off before he moved, flopping down in your bed next to you. “Goddamn.” He sighed, catching his breath.

You nodded, looking up at the ceiling. “For a 200-plus-year-old, you fuck like you’re 30.” You said, looking over at him only to meet his gaze, “I don’t hear you complaining.” Logan teased, pulling a chuckle from you. “After the two orgasms you gave me, I’d be a goddamn fool too.” You said with a laugh. A yawn soon came from your mouth as you turned on your side, “Wore you out that much?” Logan asked, leaning over and looking down at you with an amused smirk on his face.

“Yeah, and I’m, once again, not complaining,” you said, feeling yourself drifting off to sleep. That night was one of the best you ever had, followed by one of the best mornings. You awoke to the sound of someone breathing in your ear and an arm around your waist.

Logan slept in your bed last night, and you slept in his arms. As looked down, his hand was rubbing your hip through the sheets. “You’re awake?” You asked, turning around and meeting his eyes, “I’ve been up for a while.” You felt his thumb caress your cheek, a tender touch matching the emotion in his eyes. “I know this is probably a stupid to ask, given the circumstances, but would you like to grab a drink with me? Ya know, outside of work,” Logan asked.

You only leaned up and kissed his lips before pulling back and looking at him, “I’d love to.” Logan broke out into a grin that could rival the sun and returned the kiss. After a quick shower and getting dressed, you were about to make breakfast when a loud knock hit your door. “Who is it?” Logan asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. You couldn't stop your eyes from wandering down his chest, but you refocused, “I don't know, I didn't answer it.

The person knocked harder a second time, almost startling you. Logan walked forward and opened the door, only to find no one there. You peeped out the hallway, saw Wade’s door open, and heard music coming from it. “I think I know who it was.” You recognized the song coming from inside too: Sexual Healing. As you walked in, Wade was singing along before he saw you walk in and popped a confetti cannon.

“Congratulations!” he yelled, and Blind Al popped hers as well. “I guess Christmas came early because I know you did last night,” Wade then looked over your shoulder, and nodded, “Both of you did.” Logan was standing behind you and closed the door, only in the towel. “What the hell is all of this?” Logan asked. “A small celebration for you finally getting laid. All part of my plan last night.” Wade explained. Logan immediately walked past you, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Well come on man, I knew it was bound to happen when you took more than 15 minutes to get back, you think I locked you out by accident?” Wade grinned, and it all clicked. “You knew I would let him crash?” You asked, seeing the shit-eating grin grow on his face. “Oh I knew you would let him do more than that, sugar, besides that's what you both fucked on wasn't it?”

You and Logan shared a look, confused about how we knew. “First of all, neither of you tried to be quiet, at all, especially you Donna Summer,” Wade said, pointing at you. “Two, I could hear the headboard hitting the wall thanks to tall strong big dick vintage-rine over here,” he continued. “And three, someone with claws made a little hole in the wall, and trust me, I heard it all.”

Logan’s mouth was open while you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Wade then went to the fridge and pulled out a cake and got candles. “Happy first fuckiversary, my friends,” Wade said, putting the candle in the middle, above a gel doodle of two stick figures. One of them had boobs and was on her back with her legs in the air while the other with claws was in front of her. “Made this little doodle last night,” Wade said as he lit the candle, “go ahead, blow it, you’ll be doing a lot of that later.”

You didn't miss the wink he gave Logan as you blew out the candle. You took the cake and looked at Wade. “Thanks for the cake,” You said, hugging him, “and thanks for locking the door.” You took the cake and then left, Logan shutting the door behind him as you both went back to your apartment. “He’s never gonna let that go is he?” Logan asked, you shaking your head in response. “Nope, now go back over there and get dressed.”

He had a quick, confused look on his face. "Why?" you explained, throwing him his pants and shirt. "You made a damn hole in my wall, you're helping me fix it." "Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, walking back over to his and Wade's apartment.

You never thought you would see the day you would thank Wade for bringing you a man, but I guess Marvel Jesus works in mysterious ways.

Logan’s reaction when you wear one of his shirts!

ahhhh anon the imagery that popped into my head with this one... thank you for requesting it <3 maybe a slight warning but Logan calls reader kid, (she's an adult) because he's obviously older than everyone. also smutty implications lol

/

"Kid. Is that my shirt?" Logan is not sure if he's just half-drunk already (it's nearly impossible for him to get drunk as it is on just a few beers) and you're wearing a big, oversized, Calgary Flames jersey.

He's fairly sure that's not yours- he doesn't think you know any Canadian hockey teams, not like that, and the jersey is definitely dated. Logan thinks he got that when the team was early in it's existence.

"Uhhh..." You turn from your spot in front of the kitchen fridge. The X-Mansion is out of milk and creamer, unfortunately. "Maybe? Sorry."

It's not your shirt that bothers Logan, not exactly. From this spot at the kitchen counter- he's leaning over, but he almost has the full view of your legs, because the shirt only meets the beginning parts of your thighs, and he wonders why on earth you have to be so annoyingly delectable. When Logan is trying his best to be professional, a proper X-Men member, you have to go and be half-naked, no pants, just luscious, sweet legs all taut and smooth as you reach upwards to scan through the upper shelf of the fridge.

You're too much for him, he thinks. If Logan was a slightly better person, he might not be having these thoughts at all, let alone considering acting on them- but he thinks about sneaking up behind you and grabbing, squeezing your ass, the back of your thighs.

"I think our laundry got mixed up like a week ago." You try your best to excuse it. Honestly, though? You were happy to steal Logan's jersey.

It's nice and comfy, and the material has worn away into a soft, loose shirt. Best of all, it smells just like him, after years of wearing it- a slight laundry detergent smell is there, but you mostly catch the smell of pine wood, mixed with cigar smoke and maybe something musky.

You didn't expect him to be down here- you didn't want Logan to know your terrible secret.

"And? You just decided you'd keep it, huh?" Logan grumbles, but he's mostly joking. His eyes are soft.

"I didn't-" You turn to him again, and you cross your arms, and it's with a little start that Logan realizes you're not wearing a bra. You're completely naked under there, other than your panties, and he gets a rush of exhilaration thinking about taking them off slowly, with his rough, callused fingers juxtaposed against your supple, soft hips. Gently squeezing your breasts as if he owns them.

There's something hot about it, Logan thinks. You wearing his shirt. As if he loaned it to you. As if he kind of owns you, as if he's your boyfriend. He can't help but feel a deep sense of pleasure. It's not as if all his hook ups and one night stands were clamoring to be his, and it's with fondness that he looks at you again.

"I thought I could give it back to you. After I wore it for a bit." You admit, and Logan has a slight smile.

"Keep it." Logan has a twinkle in his eye, his eyes glancing up and down your figure as he smirks. "It suits you, no pants and all."

He's not really joking about that- it looks way better on you, and to Logan's perverted mind, it is fascinating how this jersey he fills out so well, had a completely different style as it falls on you. It sort of drowns you- leaves your figure to the imagination- but there's just enough that he can see how it skims over your curves, making it easier for him to imagine running his hands over you. Logan thinks about lifting it up from the bottom hem, exposing you.

You turn red, almost forgetting that your legs are bare, and you don't know how to respond to that.

"Really?" You shake your head, ignoring Logan's compliment, knowing that he's just teasing. "Thanks, Logan. It honestly helps me sleep better."

You didn't mean to say that last part- you're not trying to expose the year long crush you've had on the guy- and you stutter over your words, trying not to reveal the comfort you feel around him.

You shut the fridge, and try to leave, but Logan is a little faster, and he's got you right where he wants. Against the fridge. Looking up at him, sweet, meek, just as cute as he remembers.

He leans over you. "Well, I could help you sleep better. If you want."

"Really?" You look up at him, tilting your head a little. "I thought you would think I was just some creep and tell me to fuck off."

"Oh, kid. You think you're the only one who can't stop thinking about us?" Logan swallows. "I think I've liked you since you had to help me figure out the teaching schedule, remember?"

"Who could forget? You were really struggling- your class started an hour late." You joke, and Logan grins. He's not usually such a smiley guy, and it's not something you take light-heartedly. You know he must trust you.

"Offer's still on the table." Logan murmurs, as he traces the collar of his jersey, against your neck and collarbones, and you shiver as he leans in, pressing a kiss on your forehead. It's warm, soft, inviting- but you think Logan must be holding himself back.

"Okay." You whisper up at him, and Logan, being as devious as he is, immediately grasps your waist, your ass, your thighs, squeezing, wanting to feel every bit of flesh, and he feels a deep rumble in his chest- something possessive as he leans in and kisses you, something firm and rough as he feels his shirt around you- and Logan's mouth slots against your own quite easily, open-mouthed, rough kisses that have you shuddering, as he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pinning you against the fridge.

You know Logan didn't mean sleeping. He meant putting you to sleep, by sleeping with you, and this silly double meaning, the idea of getting to do all that and then cuddle and sleep by his side, it makes you smile against his mouth.

Logan doesn't stop kissing you as he lifts you up and away, you still wrapped around him, towards his room, feeling an immense amount of slick, lustful pride that he's bringing back his shirt and his girl there.

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK ! — ★ logan howlett.

･˳ . ⋆ sum. you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

pairing cagefighter!logan x bartender!reader

warnings fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick, sorry not sorry.

wc 3.9K

★ an ★ omg, corn w/o plot? my speciality, please enjoy this piece of work I wrote at four am during insomnia 😃 forgive any mistakes, they just slip past my eyes sometimes and I don’t proofread my works, lol. So I don’t know if I made it justice, I just kind of wrote what was in my head, hope you enjoy it anyways :)

Just like every other time you watched him from a distance, your heart would stop whenever one of his opponents managed to land a punch. But it didn’t matter—he remained standing. Steady.

As steady as his steps, pacing around the cage, eyeing his prey the way a lion eyes a gazelle, ready to pounce, sink its fangs in, spilling blood everywhere as it reveled in watching its victim fall.

Nothing was staged, though there were always rumors that someone helped him win, that it was simply impossible for him to take down his opponents so easily with just one punch to the jaw. You’d heard it all before, and you’d laughed every time. You knew who Logan was: a wild animal that couldn’t be tamed, thirsty for blood and victory—and maybe a few free shots of whiskey you managed to get him from the bar.

The place looked the same as always—smelled of cigarettes and aged whiskey, even the occasional hint of weed. But none of that could pull your attention away from the fight, from him.

There were nights were you had to make sure everything went as it should—no dirty moves, no corruption. Every corner of this dark, pretentious place was under your watchful eye. Besides, when you sometimes played as the timekeeper, you had the task of looking after him. And it’s not like it was a job you were paid to do—he just sought it out himself.

Before you got into all this fight business, you were just a normal woman working at a coffee shop in the city, taking orders left and right, spending your energy on a job that rarely compensated you fairly. But that’s just how things were... Or so you thought until you found this place: a basement of what used to be an apartment building, transformed into a run-down bar and the main entertainment hub for the slums. Cage fights seemed more interesting than a football match to these people.

At the start, you were hesitant about the idea, but you convinced yourself you’d enjoy it more and the pay was good.

When you first stepped into this place, your initial thought was that the floors were too sticky, filthy, and reeked of alcohol. But somehow, you got used to it, and the smell became a part of you—you could hardly notice it anymore, unlike those first few days you spent here.

Everything seemed monotonous at first; men fighting each other, trying to prove who had the bigger ego— maybe bigger dick.

You watched it all from a distance, serving drinks to drunken men who were just as thirsty for a fight, until everything changed.

He arrived.

Logan. The mysterious man nobody liked because everyone already had their favorite fighters, and when he showed up, everything went to hell. Literally.

Every time he stepped into that cage, he managed to knock out every single one of those idiots, leaving them with swollen eyes and dislocated jaws—some he even left unconscious.

Tonight was one of those many nights, where you lingered close and watched the fight, trying not to bite your lip every time, by pure luck and chance, one of his opponents managed to land a hit on his cheek. But they never had the upper hand—Logan always found a way to beat them, again and again.

Just as he always found a way to cage you inside his room after, keeping you to himself even though you tried to not get to involved, but you knew you were too far gone. You were too into him to care about the outcome, even worse when he made you enjoy it too much.

“Ah- Fuck”. You tremble on Logan’s lap, sweaty back resting on his broad chest while your hands hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He was the only one holding you up while he was knuckles deep inside your pulsating cunt. You tried not to bite too hard on your lip, but you already saw the way a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger, and it has you clenching down harder, tighter.

“It’s just one finger, princess- you can take it”, he rasps, head leveled to your ear, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey you managed to steal away for him; your hazy eyes looked around, noticing the small details your gaze always attached to when coming to his room: his leather jacket, his wife beater perched on the couch armrest, and the countless mags you left on the battered desk. But nothing was able to steal your attention for too long when the excitement from having him fingering you in his room had you curling your toes, along with the non-stopping motion of them.

“It’s so t-thick, I-I don’t think you’ll fit”, you babble out in broken words, referring to his dick. It’s been a few days since he’s been repeating the same cycle, eating you out then fingering you, preparing you to take his length— and even though you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he says is not the same.

It was your fault, really. You insisted you could take his fingers without him needing to eat you out, but you were already failing in the task. You felt your tummy churn in a line of zig zags as you sense him slowly sink another finger inside, leaving a burning trail behind. Your hand shot out to take his arm, curling around it to have something to ground yourself. “It f-feels weird”.

A breathy chortle leaves his lips, glass of whiskey lifting up, your gaze following the movement until it wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. His head goes back to his previous spot, stopping just a few inches from your ear, “I told ya, you wouldn’t be able to take them…”.

A frown etched on your features, sweaty brows knitting together at his words. Of course you could take them, he was just making fun of you because you weren’t thoroughly prepared like all those other times.

“I-I can take them”. You said, hand moving back to hold your leg, opening up even more for him. You could watch it in this position, and it made more slick gush out of your cunt, his covered finger kept pushing in and out slowly, patiently.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips when his index finger slides through your labia, scooping up more of your juices, teasing you. “You’re a big girl now? You think you can take it? Let’s see…”.

You hummed excitedly, your head moving up and down. You managed to get your ass a bit lower on his lap, your back sliding down just the right amount until it seemed you were going to sleep on his abdomen, chasing his fingers with your cunt.

You heard his low chuckle from behind, glass lifting up again to take a sip from his drink, “You’re so greedy, precious… but I’m holding back, just for you”.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything. Every finger he wanted to give you you’d accept it happily, didn’t matter if it hurt at first— you’d take the pain.

“Don’t hold back, I’ll be okay”, you assured, looking back at him. His hazel eyes were glued to you, lust and excitement swirling around in the depths of them, lips glistening from the whiskey he was nursing, you wanted to kiss him. “Gimme a kiss”, you plead, lips forming a pout when he shakes his head.

“Be patient, I’m busy fucking your cunt now, let me focus, mhm?”. Logan arched one brow, looking at you expectantly.

“Alright”, you mumbled, disappointment laced in your voice at him denying your request. He’d always kiss you afterwards, but you hoped he’d changed that when he noticed you were struggling.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl, you’ll get your reward soon”, he promises, not stopping for a moment the sweet and slow pacing of his fingers, smiling at the way your cunt clenched when you heard the nickname. Your walls were more clingy than they were in a daily basis, sticking against them like glue. You gasped when you feel his index finger teasing your entrance, “Pleaseplease, I can take one more…”.

Logan keeps his gaze fixed on yours, finally putting it in. You felt a delicious sting, one that managed to scratch that itch in your foggy brain. You squirmed on his lap, hips lifting up just the right amount to ease the small discomfort. A grunt left his throat, fingers slipping out of your dripping walls to spank at your cunt, followed by your whine at the sting, so different from the one his finger caused.

“I thought you could take it”.

His hand rested next to your cunt, fondling your inner thigh affectionately— but he did nothing else. Logan acted nonchalant, drinking from his glass as if he wasn’t finger fucking you just seconds ago. Your thighs were still wide open, arms growing weary from how long you’ve been holding them.

“Logan?”. you call once, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He ignored you, gaze fixed on the old TV perched on the coffee table feet away from you and the boring news channel he was ‘watching’.

He hummed, not looking your way. You frowned once more, but this it was not caused by the delicious pace of his fingers, but for his peculiar way of ignoring you.

You were there, laid open for him, perky nipples and sopping wet cunt waiting to get fucked- be it his fingers or dick. But he was ignoring you, holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything, one, two or four fingers— whatever he wanted to give you you’d accept it with open hands. But he didn’t want to hurt you, you knew the change in his demeanor the moment you lifted your hips, trying to ease the stinging pain, and though it was momentary, he stopped everything.

“Logan?”. you called once again, hand moving from your leg to hold his, trying to move him to your cunt so he can continue his ministrations, but he didn’t bulge. He held your thigh with more strength, slick covered fingers digging on your skin.

“If you want my fingers to fuck you, you’ve got to let me eat you out, if not then I can’t-”

“B-but I don’t want you to eat me out, you won’t fuck me with your dick if I’m too sore…”, you whined, lips pouting once more, watching his stoic face twitch just for a second and then a smirk finally appeared on his lips.

His fingers twitched too, caressing your outer labia with the tips— his other arm under your armpit, forearm glued to your ribs. You could see the condensation in the glass, drink almost finished, you were thirsty.

“Want some?”, he asked and you glanced back at him in thought, then nodding slowly. A grin spread across his mouth, pearly white teeth showing from between his pink lips. He moved the glass to drink from it, a disappointment feeling sinking deep into your chest when you noticed the drink was finished.

He noticed it in your features, the way you looked so disappointed thinking he was punishing you.

That’s why didn’t think he’d lower his head, lips attaching to your parted ones, liquid slipping to your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving your throat when the bitter liquid covered your tongue— mixed with his own saliva. It was utterly erotic to you, the way you shared everything, from his dog tags to his fluids.

All the time you were kissing, you felt his fingers move once more to your entrance, two of them breaching in at once— a gasp leaving your mouth the moment they bottomed out. Logan took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, twirling it with your own, stroking the warm muscle. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, slipping down to your chin.

His fingers hid inside your cunt walls, initiating a slow pace just like before, brushing that spongy spot with them. Your hand curled around his arm once more, feeling the hot skin beneath your fingers. Your back was sweaty, his chest and abdomen hair sticking to your skin.

“You’ve been so good, letting me do what I want, always”. He praised, a string of saliva formed after your heated kiss, keeping you somehow together even after he leaned back to plant a kiss on your head.

His digits moved at a faster pace now, the squelching sound your pussy made provoked his bulge to grow, a tent appearing in his pants beneath your lower back. The pain was too far gone, now you could only feel the pleasure.

“I think you can take a third, uh? You’re a big girl after all”, he asked teasingly, you could only nod effusively, pushing your hips further into his hand. As you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. He slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one, you whine before your entire body jitters.

Logan chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. "So three is the limit. I see…" and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. A slimey string of your wetness sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

He pops the three of them inside his mouth, his tongue devours your honeyed slick, brows furrowing in arousal before he takes them out, pressing them to your own lips. “C’mon pretty girl, taste yourself”.

Your lips happily part, and he puts two fingers inside, groaning when he noticed you greedily suck on them— thinking it was his dick you were sucking, not his fingers.

With a groan he takes them out, glass forgotten on the couch armrest and lifts you up, turning you around so you’re lying face down on his chest, dog tags digging into your cheek.

He takes the back of your neck and kisses you, a moan leaving your throat the moment your saliva mingling together. His slick covered fingers parted your ass cheek, scooping up more of your slick before putting his fingers back inside, fucking you faster, rougher.

Your head hid in the crook of his neck, arms enveloping his broad back tightly, as if it was the only thing that could keep your feet on the ground.

“We need to stretch it out, get it ready to take my dick, don’t wanna hurt this little girl”, he speaks, voice dripping with lust and it made heat pool beneath your cheeks.

“Logan? I-I don’t want you to hold back…”, you mumble, ass lifting higher, knees digging in the battered couch. “Want you to be rough, I- if that’s what you want…” your voice lowered with each word, shame finally settling in your brain.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them out, taking your waist and positioning you above the couch, the leather dampening with your sweet and juices.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open once again after you closed them in shame, “Don’t hide from me”.

Your arms hugged your chest, trying to cover your breasts from his sight, you were growing shy on him and he didn’t like that. Not even a bit.

“Stop that”, he said, tugging your hands off your chest, pinning them above your head. Your eyes avoided his, not wanting to meet his gaze, “Look at me”. He demanded, meaty thighs accommodating between yours, preventing you from closing them.

You look at him after a few seconds from looking at the humidity spot in the wall, “Need ya to tell me if it’s hurts, if you want to stop”.

Your head shakes up and down, “Okay”.

He nods in agreement and releases your hands, trailing his own down your body, stopping on your breasts, twirling the nipples between his index and forefinger, fondling the soft mounds in his much bigger hands. Then continued on his way, touching your ribs, waist and halting on your hip bone, thumb caressing the bone protruding from the skin.

He still had his jeans on, a wet spot staining them on the front, your juices. It made your pussy clench around nothing, skin heating up once again.

His hands hastily pulled his belt off, zipping his pants down, lowering them just the right amount to take his cock out through the front.

A gasp left your lips, mouth hanging open at the sight of his hard shaft, the angry tip leaked precum, the pearly white droplets making your mouth water. You’ve had him in your mouth before, you’ve tasted his skin and cum, the saltiness of his skin equals the one from his fluid and it makes your tongue tingle with anticipation. He watches the look you give him, the need for it you showed but he quickly denied you.

“Not tonight babe, I’m gonna fuck you now and nothing’s gonna stop me”.

Logan fisted it in his palm, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your pussy, head rubbing up and down on it, covering it in your slick, wetting it to perfection.

He swirled it around your clit, covering it in his cum, mixing his fluids with your own. Finally, his angry tip hooked on your entrance, making his way until you felt it was completely in.

It was a tight fit, your cunt felt like a big pole tried to enter you, but it was just the tip.

“Relax, you’re doing it good”, Logan mumbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. You tried to relax, to listen to him and loosen up a bit but the pressure was too much— you didn’t felt that way with his fingers.

“It’s not going to fit”, you repeat the same words from the start, thinking how dumb it was of yourself to think you could take that huge thing in between your legs. You tried to move back, forearms planted on the couch wanting to get away from his dick, but he stopped you.

“You told me to not hold back, and you’re doing the opposite thing… be good yeah? I really wanna fuck you”, he admitted, halting your movements.

You were going to try, just for him.

You both stayed still for a moment, he rejoiced in the way your spongy walls clenched around his hard shaft, and the way your chest heaved up and down, making your breasts jiggle slightly.

He tried not to cum, really tried. And he also tried not go all the way inside you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I’m gonna put it all in, yeah?”.

He finally asked and you could only nod, watching and feeling the way his dick leisurely entered. After a few seconds of trying, he finally bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass. It was a tight fit, of course, the stinging feeling from before was present too, but it was even worse than his fingers.

A small cry left your lips, eyes glassy and teeth biting down on your lips. Logan’s eyes softened, hand moving from your thighs to rest on your cheek, wiping the tear off with the pad of his digit. “Shh, it’ll be alright”. He assured.

He waited a few minutes, watching the way a few tears slid down your cheeks, wiping them off like before and whispering sweet things to you, to soothe you.

Logan realized you were ready the moment you started to squirm, tears stopping and heat returning to your cheeks, traveling down to your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna move now, is that okay?”, he asked, waiting for a verbal confirmation that everything was alright.

“Yeah, ‘m okay”.

When he heard those words, he finally let himself move. In and out, a steady and slow pace at first, then he started to fuck you harder. His dick hit your cervix, head stroking your vulva with greediness.

You knew he was holding back, you felt it. It didn’t hurt anymore, at least for now, but he was still holding back— you noticed it in his features, his frown and tight jaw gave him away. You wanted him to be him, to do what he wanted with your body. You wanted him to act the same way he acts in the cage.

You elevated a bit from your spot, reaching to his cheek with your hand, he was so tall you didn’t touch it at first, but he hunched over so you could.

“I-I told you to not hold b-back”, a whimper left your mouth when he hit that spot, a euphoric sensation spreading through your lower abdomen and legs. He noticed it, and he began to thrust faster.

He gripped the leg dangling from the side of the couch and made it lift to your chest, it felt completely different from moments before. You felt his dick hitting deeper, and you didn’t know if it was your imagination that made you sense the veins in his dick rubbing against your walls.

You looked down, trying to watch the way he slipped in and out of you, you only managed to catch a small glance, but it was the most erotic scene you’ve witnessed. Nothing you’ve ever done compares to this, not even when you’d finger yourself in front of the wall mirror at your apartment.

“Fuuck”, he groaned, hips snapping rapidly, the smacking sound being the only thing you heard in the small, deteriorated room, along with his grunts and your moans, that got higher and higher every time he bottomed out. “Are you good?”.

You’re too fucked dumb to reply, and Logan’s pace grows more and more erotic. The couch creaks again and again, your head spinning. You could sort of feel the rough fabric of his halfway pulled down jeans against your ass each time he hits himself against you,

He smiles and keeps the pace, hand traveling down to rub on your clit gently, he didn’t want to overstimulate you— for now.

“Yes yes there”, you chant, your smaller hand holding his wrist, tugging it forward to press harder on your bundle of nerves.

And without further notice, the thread snaps. Your tummy churns and your legs spread even wider, if that was even possible, your body trembles as it contracts and gives Logan everything you have left to offer. You squeeze his dick, moaning wildly as his pace never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

Then you feel it too, his cum leaking from inside your cunt dripping down onto the couch, seeing the way his dick slips out from you and glistens with your mixed arousal. His eyes fixed on his cum gushing out from your pussy, doing his best to hold back.

You watched it too, and It made your pussy clench again, he obviously noticed it but he just chuckled and shook his head, putting a stray hair behind your ear.

“Easy there, we just fucked, we’ve got plenty of time to do it again”.

✩͏ cw 𝜗𝜚. fem!reader. 69ing obv, bit of praising, pussy drunk man, overstim, dirty talk, pet names (princess), slight ass play (jus’ a little teasing). mdni.

logan and you try a different position.

“c’mon, you gotta focus princess”.

you couldn’t do anything more than nod your head, mouth too full of logan’s dick to speak. your jaw aches and burns from how wide your mouth was being stretched around him. you put your wrist to work up and down his dick, trying to stimulate what your mouth couldn’t take. a mix of saliva and cum slips from your mouth and moistens the skin, trailing down until it pools around the base. the bobbing motion of your head was clumsy and halted at times, the sporadic tingle and licking between your legs distracting you every few seconds from your task.

it would’ve been an easy task for you to focus on, had logan not been feasting on your pussy like a starved man. his calloused hands grabbed both your asscheeks, spreading your folds open with the act, tonguing at your slit as if he dug for more of your honeyed slick.

there was so much of it that it flowed out of his tongue’s reach, wetting the skin around his mouth and slipping down his jaw. it was messy and exciting, he wanted more. orgasms came rolling in and out of you as did the occasional pumps of two fingers into your cunt while he ate you out, a sudden mixture of pain and pleasure consumed your senses. on one hand, you wanted him to stop lapping at your folds like a thirsty dog but on the other, you also wanted him to continue when, with greediness, he dug for more.

even if he wanted you to be consistent with your movements, you couldn’t help but stop your sucking on his dick to grind your hips back and forth on his mouth, your slick making the task easier to move. his nose would bump into your clit and you'd shiver from head to toe, the oversensitivity finally catching up to you. the free hand at your ass cheek would graze at your puckered hole from time to time, but never breaching in.

“can’t wait to fuck this too”. those words made you give a sporadic clench around his fingers, trapping them in hungrily as if trying to keep them forever so you could maintain the delicious stretch.

“you have such a pretty cunt baby, if i wasn’t trying to give you a lesson i would’ve fucked it by now- sit”. his free hand moves up and down your lower back gently, prompting it to arch and push your pussy further down into his mouth, but you didn’t have the courage to sit completely on it afraid you might suffocate him. his hips jerked up, shoving a few inches more into your throat and a muffled gag to leave your lips. “‘m sorry princess, but you’ve gotta learn to take my dick”.

it was all too much; the dirty talk, the overstimulation and the saltiness of his precum coating your tongue didn’t help. but it made you want for more— more of his tongue and the scissoring motions of his fingers. his hips were jerking up and down trying for you to keep his whole dick inside your warm hole, even if it seemed impossible from how big he was.

“you’re a big girl, you can take another finger can’t you?”. he said the moment he inserted a third finger in. “wanna soak in your juices, yeah?- so sit properly”. he speaks, mouth full of cunt, but your foggy mind still catches the message. you subconsciously push your hips back into his bearded face, wanting to abide to his request.

wrote this during my free time today, work and school’s taking so much of my time but nothing’s gonna stop me from writing my horny thoughts, hope u like it :>

obsessed — logan howlet

synopsis what started as a normal crush, developed into sweet obsession.

this fic contains: stalking, obsessive!logan, usual shit from wade but he is a bit serious here, fem!reader, stealing, home breaking?, foul language, m masturbation. logan acts like a a real perv.

author's note: sometimes, I wonder what’s wrong with me. I can’t believe I wrote a whole fic of logan jerking off to your panties. this is just a quick one shot, I think, not a whole fic. basically I resumed what could’ve been a 5k word story to less than 1K word— maybe I’ll write a second part where you fuck.

Lately, Logan has been thinking.

Thinking about you, Wade’s sweet childhood friend who lives next door.

And thinking about the way your footsteps echoed down the hall whenever you were off to work— your heels clicking with a slow pace and sometimes a bit more rushed because you were running late. His eyes would linger in the humidity spot in the living room ceiling, trying to conceive a picture of what were you wearing that day, even though he knew the answer already. Every day, you wore the same pencil skirt with a satin white shirt— except for Friday’s, that day you always wore dark grey pants. He knew because he followed you to work and back home, taking care of you.

He also could remember the way you’d look at him whenever Wade invited you over, you considered him your friend, even if everything you knew was a mask he put on so you wouldn’t notice what was really happening to him.

He wasn’t soft, not even a bit. But since the first time he met you, he decided he didn’t want you to see him with his usual brooding and grumpy self.

And that’s why he would help carry your groceries inside home, checking up on your pet cat and also watering your plants whenever you were away at your grandmas house for the weekend. He wanted to seem good and kind. That’s why he didn’t complain when you’d drag him and Wade to some rerun of your favorite movies— even if he didn’t like being around Wade in closed spaces.

His roommate’s footsteps distracted him from his train of thought about you, his usual witty remarks weren’t funny anymore and instead caused Logan’s head to throb at every word.

“… And then the asshole turned around and said, I’m gonna take her on a date! How dares he?- I mean sweet (y/n) definitely wouldn’t date that horrible imitation of Nick Cage”, Wade said, his hands taking a spoon and a bowl, opening the cupboard and taking out the cereal box and milk. Logan’s ears perked up to that, Who wanted to date you? After a few minutes later, he dared to ask.

“W-what did you just say?”, he asked, his hands lifting the spare blanket off his body. Wade’s non-existent eyebrow raised, “That I haven’t gone to the bathroom all week?”.

“No, idiot. You say somethin’ about a date and (y/n)?”, he grunted.

Wade smiled, milk spilling from the corners of his mouth, “Oh, pretty (y/n) is a heartbreaker, she’s rejected all the guys at work. They’re all assholes, but hear me out, that Nick Cage low-budget-imitation dude sure wants to get in her pants— or should I say skirt?— Don’t care, he just wants a taste of our sweet (y/n)”.

Logan groaned and got up, walking to the cupboard of the kitchen and taking a bourbon bottle, drinking a big gulp. Wade whistled, eyes wide and a teasing smirk on his lips, “You sure are a thirsty honey badger”.

“Fuck off”, Logan said.

Wade gave a sigh, leaving the spoon rest in his bowl, “Peanut, I know you like my sweet girl— just admit it. Carrying groceries, watering plants, taking care of her fucking cat!- Hell, you even fixed her plumbing. You don’t do shit here, but you’re trying to get on her good side aren’t ya?”.

Logan couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit ashamed, yes he wanted to get on your good side by doing charity work and Wade wasn’t dumb. If he was that good deciphering, then he surely knew about the missing things from your apartment were his doing— misplaced underwear, cups and shirts.

Wade sighed, giving Logan a serious glare “Look, I know you want to get laid and I understand— you’re like two-hundred years old and probably haven’t fucked in decades, but don’t hurt her, she’s my only friend”.

Logan chuckled bitterly, shaking his head, “She’s not even interested in me, bub”.

Wade rolled his eyes, “You’re so fucking dumb— she comes every Friday night to eat pizza and watch cringey rom-coms with us, she usually never came around much because she was always tired with work so I crashed at her place, but all of a sudden she wants to be here every. fucking. Friday. Explain that, idiot”.

He tastes Wade’s words cautiously, all this time he’s been harboring a crush he thought wasn’t reciprocal— he just knew you could not fall for an old man like him, you were young and very intelligent, so his little fantasies had to be just that, fantasies.

But Wade was igniting something he shouldn’t, he was giving Logan hope that maybe, a sweet girl like you, could fall for him.

It all got worse.

Logan spent more time snooping around your apartment than on his own— or well shared one— he just couldn’t help it anymore.

His dark hoodie covered the imminent guilt slowly creeping through him, a thin silk pink pantie around his fingers and your apartment’s key heavy on his jeans front pocket. Breaking into your apartment was an easy task, you weren’t home and you asked him to come and check on things as usual saying how much you loved your plants and cat but weren’t able to take them with you, so he acted good.

He promised to take care of them.

When you weren’t here, he’d invite himself in with the copy of your key— trying to get rid of the guilt feeling on his bones whenever you’d look at him with sparkling eyes, extending your own keys with eagerness every Saturday.

Hopefully, that guy at the office already got over you, if the multiple threats Logan made worked.

Today was Thursday, just another day until you crashed at Wade’s and Logan could finally see you. Another day where he’d lie about his whereabouts, saying something about taking Laura to swimming lessons on Wednesdays and his new fake job at this repair shop taking too much time any other day of the week.

“Where have you been, Peanut?”, Wade asks the moment Logan steps through the door, his hands resting inside his hoodie pocket.

“Watering plants”, he shortly responds, moving across the room to the kitchen, his eyes falling on yours and then to the bowls filled with popcorn and candies.

“Hey, Lo”, you greeted with a smile, his heart skipping a beat.

“What are you doing here? ‘S not Friday yet”, he asked, his clammy fingers rubbing against the fabric hidden in his pocket.

“Oh I know! But Wade was insisting I should come and check this rom-com with Nicholas Cage— Are you taking care of other apartments?”, you asked, your eyes traveling across his rigid form and parted lips.

“Uhm no”, he let out. You furrowed your brows but nodded, deciding to not say anything.

“Oh, if it’s difficult for you to check on mine’s alright, I can always ask Wade or Mr. Johnson”, your sweet voice reassured, a tent forming in his jeans. He quickly shook his head no, “Don’t worry, yours is the only one”.

After changing his clothes and hiding your panties deep inside his jeans back pocket, he finally relaxed and watched the movie— his arms stayed the whole time on the couch’s rest, hands playing with your soft hair every now and then. When you left, he waited until Wade stopped his usual rambling before going to his spot on the couch. Listening to Wade’s snores through the walls after a few minutes.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you, his body was restless, changing positions every three seconds. Then he finally stopped, his eyes glueing to the ceiling his jeans constricting his aching erection.

Freeing it from its confinement, his hand took it in a tight grip, squeezing and thumb moving to the head, wiping the precum drop that gathered there. It felt hard as steel, his hand squeezing a bit tighter moving up and down slowly. He didn’t think he’d last, he’s been horny since a few weeks ago, but these last few days, he felt he could explode just by looking at you. All the blood running south the moment his eyes stopped on your work attire, your ass shaped perfectly.

He could almost imagine the softness of your skin under his hands, the way your chest would heave up and down with every touch— he wasn’t even a bit ashamed.

He also couldn’t feel ashamed of the way his nostrils inhaled your scent— your stolen panties on his left hand while his right one jerked his dick off.

He was close, so close…

At the same time, his mind conjured a sweet illusion. Your finger working on your clit and pretty tits moving up and down at the same time your breath came out ragged.

Moving the blanket out of the way, the air hit his hot shaft, making a shiver creep but disappearing as soon as he came.

With your panties in hand, he cleaned all the mess.

✩͏ cw 𝜗𝜚. fem!reader. 69ing obv, bit of praising, pussy drunk man, overstim, dirty talk, pet names (princess), slight ass play (jus’ a little teasing). mdni.

logan and you try a different position.

“c’mon, you gotta focus princess”.

you couldn’t do anything more than nod your head, mouth too full of logan’s dick to speak. your jaw aches and burns from how wide your mouth was being stretched around him. you put your wrist to work up and down his dick, trying to stimulate what your mouth couldn’t take. a mix of saliva and cum slips from your mouth and moistens the skin, trailing down until it pools around the base. the bobbing motion of your head was clumsy and halted at times, the sporadic tingle and licking between your legs distracting you every few seconds from your task.

it would’ve been an easy task for you to focus on, had logan not been feasting on your pussy like a starved man. his calloused hands grabbed both your asscheeks, spreading your folds open with the act, tonguing at your slit as if he dug for more of your honeyed slick.

there was so much of it that it flowed out of his tongue’s reach, wetting the skin around his mouth and slipping down his jaw. it was messy and exciting, he wanted more. orgasms came rolling in and out of you as did the occasional pumps of two fingers into your cunt while he ate you out, a sudden mixture of pain and pleasure consumed your senses. on one hand, you wanted him to stop lapping at your folds like a thirsty dog but on the other, you also wanted him to continue when, with greediness, he dug for more.

even if he wanted you to be consistent with your movements, you couldn’t help but stop your sucking on his dick to grind your hips back and forth on his mouth, your slick making the task easier to move. his nose would bump into your clit and you'd shiver from head to toe, the oversensitivity finally catching up to you. the free hand at your ass cheek would graze at your puckered hole from time to time, but never breaching in.

“can’t wait to fuck this too”. those words made you give a sporadic clench around his fingers, trapping them in hungrily as if trying to keep them forever so you could maintain the delicious stretch.

“you have such a pretty cunt baby, if i wasn’t trying to give you a lesson i would’ve fucked it by now- sit”. his free hand moves up and down your lower back gently, prompting it to arch and push your pussy further down into his mouth, but you didn’t have the courage to sit completely on it afraid you might suffocate him. his hips jerked up, shoving a few inches more into your throat and a muffled gag to leave your lips. “‘m sorry princess, but you’ve gotta learn to take my dick”.

it was all too much; the dirty talk, the overstimulation and the saltiness of his precum coating your tongue didn’t help. but it made you want for more— more of his tongue and the scissoring motions of his fingers. his hips were jerking up and down trying for you to keep his whole dick inside your warm hole, even if it seemed impossible from how big he was.

“you’re a big girl, you can take another finger can’t you?”. he said the moment he inserted a third finger in. “wanna soak in your juices, yeah?- so sit properly”. he speaks, mouth full of cunt, but your foggy mind still catches the message. you subconsciously push your hips back into his bearded face, wanting to abide to his request.

wrote this during my free time today, work and school’s taking so much of my time but nothing’s gonna stop me from writing my horny thoughts, hope u like it :>

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK ! — ★ logan howlett.

･˳ . ⋆ sum. you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

pairing cagefighter!logan x bartender!reader

warnings fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick, sorry not sorry.

wc 3.9K

★ an ★ omg, corn w/o plot? my speciality, please enjoy this piece of work I wrote at four am during insomnia 😃 forgive any mistakes, they just slip past my eyes sometimes and I don’t proofread my works, lol. So I don’t know if I made it justice, I just kind of wrote what was in my head, hope you enjoy it anyways :)

Just like every other time you watched him from a distance, your heart would stop whenever one of his opponents managed to land a punch. But it didn’t matter—he remained standing. Steady.

As steady as his steps, pacing around the cage, eyeing his prey the way a lion eyes a gazelle, ready to pounce, sink its fangs in, spilling blood everywhere as it reveled in watching its victim fall.

Nothing was staged, though there were always rumors that someone helped him win, that it was simply impossible for him to take down his opponents so easily with just one punch to the jaw. You’d heard it all before, and you’d laughed every time. You knew who Logan was: a wild animal that couldn’t be tamed, thirsty for blood and victory—and maybe a few free shots of whiskey you managed to get him from the bar.

The place looked the same as always—smelled of cigarettes and aged whiskey, even the occasional hint of weed. But none of that could pull your attention away from the fight, from him.

There were nights were you had to make sure everything went as it should—no dirty moves, no corruption. Every corner of this dark, pretentious place was under your watchful eye. Besides, when you sometimes played as the timekeeper, you had the task of looking after him. And it’s not like it was a job you were paid to do—he just sought it out himself.

Before you got into all this fight business, you were just a normal woman working at a coffee shop in the city, taking orders left and right, spending your energy on a job that rarely compensated you fairly. But that’s just how things were... Or so you thought until you found this place: a basement of what used to be an apartment building, transformed into a run-down bar and the main entertainment hub for the slums. Cage fights seemed more interesting than a football match to these people.

At the start, you were hesitant about the idea, but you convinced yourself you’d enjoy it more and the pay was good.

When you first stepped into this place, your initial thought was that the floors were too sticky, filthy, and reeked of alcohol. But somehow, you got used to it, and the smell became a part of you—you could hardly notice it anymore, unlike those first few days you spent here.

Everything seemed monotonous at first; men fighting each other, trying to prove who had the bigger ego— maybe bigger dick.

You watched it all from a distance, serving drinks to drunken men who were just as thirsty for a fight, until everything changed.

He arrived.

Logan. The mysterious man nobody liked because everyone already had their favorite fighters, and when he showed up, everything went to hell. Literally.

Every time he stepped into that cage, he managed to knock out every single one of those idiots, leaving them with swollen eyes and dislocated jaws—some he even left unconscious.

Tonight was one of those many nights, where you lingered close and watched the fight, trying not to bite your lip every time, by pure luck and chance, one of his opponents managed to land a hit on his cheek. But they never had the upper hand—Logan always found a way to beat them, again and again.

Just as he always found a way to cage you inside his room after, keeping you to himself even though you tried to not get to involved, but you knew you were too far gone. You were too into him to care about the outcome, even worse when he made you enjoy it too much.

“Ah- Fuck”. You tremble on Logan’s lap, sweaty back resting on his broad chest while your hands hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He was the only one holding you up while he was knuckles deep inside your pulsating cunt. You tried not to bite too hard on your lip, but you already saw the way a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger, and it has you clenching down harder, tighter.

“It’s just one finger, princess- you can take it”, he rasps, head leveled to your ear, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey you managed to steal away for him; your hazy eyes looked around, noticing the small details your gaze always attached to when coming to his room: his leather jacket, his wife beater perched on the couch armrest, and the countless mags you left on the battered desk. But nothing was able to steal your attention for too long when the excitement from having him fingering you in his room had you curling your toes, along with the non-stopping motion of them.

“It’s so t-thick, I-I don’t think you’ll fit”, you babble out in broken words, referring to his dick. It’s been a few days since he’s been repeating the same cycle, eating you out then fingering you, preparing you to take his length— and even though you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he says is not the same.

It was your fault, really. You insisted you could take his fingers without him needing to eat you out, but you were already failing in the task. You felt your tummy churn in a line of zig zags as you sense him slowly sink another finger inside, leaving a burning trail behind. Your hand shot out to take his arm, curling around it to have something to ground yourself. “It f-feels weird”.

A breathy chortle leaves his lips, glass of whiskey lifting up, your gaze following the movement until it wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. His head goes back to his previous spot, stopping just a few inches from your ear, “I told ya, you wouldn’t be able to take them…”.

A frown etched on your features, sweaty brows knitting together at his words. Of course you could take them, he was just making fun of you because you weren’t thoroughly prepared like all those other times.

“I-I can take them”. You said, hand moving back to hold your leg, opening up even more for him. You could watch it in this position, and it made more slick gush out of your cunt, his covered finger kept pushing in and out slowly, patiently.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips when his index finger slides through your labia, scooping up more of your juices, teasing you. “You’re a big girl now? You think you can take it? Let’s see…”.

You hummed excitedly, your head moving up and down. You managed to get your ass a bit lower on his lap, your back sliding down just the right amount until it seemed you were going to sleep on his abdomen, chasing his fingers with your cunt.

You heard his low chuckle from behind, glass lifting up again to take a sip from his drink, “You’re so greedy, precious… but I’m holding back, just for you”.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything. Every finger he wanted to give you you’d accept it happily, didn’t matter if it hurt at first— you’d take the pain.

“Don’t hold back, I’ll be okay”, you assured, looking back at him. His hazel eyes were glued to you, lust and excitement swirling around in the depths of them, lips glistening from the whiskey he was nursing, you wanted to kiss him. “Gimme a kiss”, you plead, lips forming a pout when he shakes his head.

“Be patient, I’m busy fucking your cunt now, let me focus, mhm?”. Logan arched one brow, looking at you expectantly.

“Alright”, you mumbled, disappointment laced in your voice at him denying your request. He’d always kiss you afterwards, but you hoped he’d changed that when he noticed you were struggling.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl, you’ll get your reward soon”, he promises, not stopping for a moment the sweet and slow pacing of his fingers, smiling at the way your cunt clenched when you heard the nickname. Your walls were more clingy than they were in a daily basis, sticking against them like glue. You gasped when you feel his index finger teasing your entrance, “Pleaseplease, I can take one more…”.

Logan keeps his gaze fixed on yours, finally putting it in. You felt a delicious sting, one that managed to scratch that itch in your foggy brain. You squirmed on his lap, hips lifting up just the right amount to ease the small discomfort. A grunt left his throat, fingers slipping out of your dripping walls to spank at your cunt, followed by your whine at the sting, so different from the one his finger caused.

“I thought you could take it”.

His hand rested next to your cunt, fondling your inner thigh affectionately— but he did nothing else. Logan acted nonchalant, drinking from his glass as if he wasn’t finger fucking you just seconds ago. Your thighs were still wide open, arms growing weary from how long you’ve been holding them.

“Logan?”. you call once, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He ignored you, gaze fixed on the old TV perched on the coffee table feet away from you and the boring news channel he was ‘watching’.

He hummed, not looking your way. You frowned once more, but this it was not caused by the delicious pace of his fingers, but for his peculiar way of ignoring you.

You were there, laid open for him, perky nipples and sopping wet cunt waiting to get fucked- be it his fingers or dick. But he was ignoring you, holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything, one, two or four fingers— whatever he wanted to give you you’d accept it with open hands. But he didn’t want to hurt you, you knew the change in his demeanor the moment you lifted your hips, trying to ease the stinging pain, and though it was momentary, he stopped everything.

“Logan?”. you called once again, hand moving from your leg to hold his, trying to move him to your cunt so he can continue his ministrations, but he didn’t bulge. He held your thigh with more strength, slick covered fingers digging on your skin.

“If you want my fingers to fuck you, you’ve got to let me eat you out, if not then I can’t-”

“B-but I don’t want you to eat me out, you won’t fuck me with your dick if I’m too sore…”, you whined, lips pouting once more, watching his stoic face twitch just for a second and then a smirk finally appeared on his lips.

His fingers twitched too, caressing your outer labia with the tips— his other arm under your armpit, forearm glued to your ribs. You could see the condensation in the glass, drink almost finished, you were thirsty.

“Want some?”, he asked and you glanced back at him in thought, then nodding slowly. A grin spread across his mouth, pearly white teeth showing from between his pink lips. He moved the glass to drink from it, a disappointment feeling sinking deep into your chest when you noticed the drink was finished.

He noticed it in your features, the way you looked so disappointed thinking he was punishing you.

That’s why didn’t think he’d lower his head, lips attaching to your parted ones, liquid slipping to your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving your throat when the bitter liquid covered your tongue— mixed with his own saliva. It was utterly erotic to you, the way you shared everything, from his dog tags to his fluids.

All the time you were kissing, you felt his fingers move once more to your entrance, two of them breaching in at once— a gasp leaving your mouth the moment they bottomed out. Logan took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, twirling it with your own, stroking the warm muscle. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, slipping down to your chin.

His fingers hid inside your cunt walls, initiating a slow pace just like before, brushing that spongy spot with them. Your hand curled around his arm once more, feeling the hot skin beneath your fingers. Your back was sweaty, his chest and abdomen hair sticking to your skin.

“You’ve been so good, letting me do what I want, always”. He praised, a string of saliva formed after your heated kiss, keeping you somehow together even after he leaned back to plant a kiss on your head.

His digits moved at a faster pace now, the squelching sound your pussy made provoked his bulge to grow, a tent appearing in his pants beneath your lower back. The pain was too far gone, now you could only feel the pleasure.

“I think you can take a third, uh? You’re a big girl after all”, he asked teasingly, you could only nod effusively, pushing your hips further into his hand. As you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. He slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one, you whine before your entire body jitters.

Logan chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. "So three is the limit. I see…" and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. A slimey string of your wetness sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

He pops the three of them inside his mouth, his tongue devours your honeyed slick, brows furrowing in arousal before he takes them out, pressing them to your own lips. “C’mon pretty girl, taste yourself”.

Your lips happily part, and he puts two fingers inside, groaning when he noticed you greedily suck on them— thinking it was his dick you were sucking, not his fingers.

With a groan he takes them out, glass forgotten on the couch armrest and lifts you up, turning you around so you’re lying face down on his chest, dog tags digging into your cheek.

He takes the back of your neck and kisses you, a moan leaving your throat the moment your saliva mingling together. His slick covered fingers parted your ass cheek, scooping up more of your slick before putting his fingers back inside, fucking you faster, rougher.

Your head hid in the crook of his neck, arms enveloping his broad back tightly, as if it was the only thing that could keep your feet on the ground.

“We need to stretch it out, get it ready to take my dick, don’t wanna hurt this little girl”, he speaks, voice dripping with lust and it made heat pool beneath your cheeks.

“Logan? I-I don’t want you to hold back…”, you mumble, ass lifting higher, knees digging in the battered couch. “Want you to be rough, I- if that’s what you want…” your voice lowered with each word, shame finally settling in your brain.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them out, taking your waist and positioning you above the couch, the leather dampening with your sweet and juices.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open once again after you closed them in shame, “Don’t hide from me”.

Your arms hugged your chest, trying to cover your breasts from his sight, you were growing shy on him and he didn’t like that. Not even a bit.

“Stop that”, he said, tugging your hands off your chest, pinning them above your head. Your eyes avoided his, not wanting to meet his gaze, “Look at me”. He demanded, meaty thighs accommodating between yours, preventing you from closing them.

You look at him after a few seconds from looking at the humidity spot in the wall, “Need ya to tell me if it’s hurts, if you want to stop”.

Your head shakes up and down, “Okay”.

He nods in agreement and releases your hands, trailing his own down your body, stopping on your breasts, twirling the nipples between his index and forefinger, fondling the soft mounds in his much bigger hands. Then continued on his way, touching your ribs, waist and halting on your hip bone, thumb caressing the bone protruding from the skin.

He still had his jeans on, a wet spot staining them on the front, your juices. It made your pussy clench around nothing, skin heating up once again.

His hands hastily pulled his belt off, zipping his pants down, lowering them just the right amount to take his cock out through the front.

A gasp left your lips, mouth hanging open at the sight of his hard shaft, the angry tip leaked precum, the pearly white droplets making your mouth water. You’ve had him in your mouth before, you’ve tasted his skin and cum, the saltiness of his skin equals the one from his fluid and it makes your tongue tingle with anticipation. He watches the look you give him, the need for it you showed but he quickly denied you.

“Not tonight babe, I’m gonna fuck you now and nothing’s gonna stop me”.

Logan fisted it in his palm, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your pussy, head rubbing up and down on it, covering it in your slick, wetting it to perfection.

He swirled it around your clit, covering it in his cum, mixing his fluids with your own. Finally, his angry tip hooked on your entrance, making his way until you felt it was completely in.

It was a tight fit, your cunt felt like a big pole tried to enter you, but it was just the tip.

“Relax, you’re doing it good”, Logan mumbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. You tried to relax, to listen to him and loosen up a bit but the pressure was too much— you didn’t felt that way with his fingers.

“It’s not going to fit”, you repeat the same words from the start, thinking how dumb it was of yourself to think you could take that huge thing in between your legs. You tried to move back, forearms planted on the couch wanting to get away from his dick, but he stopped you.

“You told me to not hold back, and you’re doing the opposite thing… be good yeah? I really wanna fuck you”, he admitted, halting your movements.

You were going to try, just for him.

You both stayed still for a moment, he rejoiced in the way your spongy walls clenched around his hard shaft, and the way your chest heaved up and down, making your breasts jiggle slightly.

He tried not to cum, really tried. And he also tried not go all the way inside you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I’m gonna put it all in, yeah?”.

He finally asked and you could only nod, watching and feeling the way his dick leisurely entered. After a few seconds of trying, he finally bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass. It was a tight fit, of course, the stinging feeling from before was present too, but it was even worse than his fingers.

A small cry left your lips, eyes glassy and teeth biting down on your lips. Logan’s eyes softened, hand moving from your thighs to rest on your cheek, wiping the tear off with the pad of his digit. “Shh, it’ll be alright”. He assured.

He waited a few minutes, watching the way a few tears slid down your cheeks, wiping them off like before and whispering sweet things to you, to soothe you.

Logan realized you were ready the moment you started to squirm, tears stopping and heat returning to your cheeks, traveling down to your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna move now, is that okay?”, he asked, waiting for a verbal confirmation that everything was alright.

“Yeah, ‘m okay”.

When he heard those words, he finally let himself move. In and out, a steady and slow pace at first, then he started to fuck you harder. His dick hit your cervix, head stroking your vulva with greediness.

You knew he was holding back, you felt it. It didn’t hurt anymore, at least for now, but he was still holding back— you noticed it in his features, his frown and tight jaw gave him away. You wanted him to be him, to do what he wanted with your body. You wanted him to act the same way he acts in the cage.

You elevated a bit from your spot, reaching to his cheek with your hand, he was so tall you didn’t touch it at first, but he hunched over so you could.

“I-I told you to not hold b-back”, a whimper left your mouth when he hit that spot, a euphoric sensation spreading through your lower abdomen and legs. He noticed it, and he began to thrust faster.

He gripped the leg dangling from the side of the couch and made it lift to your chest, it felt completely different from moments before. You felt his dick hitting deeper, and you didn’t know if it was your imagination that made you sense the veins in his dick rubbing against your walls.

You looked down, trying to watch the way he slipped in and out of you, you only managed to catch a small glance, but it was the most erotic scene you’ve witnessed. Nothing you’ve ever done compares to this, not even when you’d finger yourself in front of the wall mirror at your apartment.

“Fuuck”, he groaned, hips snapping rapidly, the smacking sound being the only thing you heard in the small, deteriorated room, along with his grunts and your moans, that got higher and higher every time he bottomed out. “Are you good?”.

You’re too fucked dumb to reply, and Logan’s pace grows more and more erotic. The couch creaks again and again, your head spinning. You could sort of feel the rough fabric of his halfway pulled down jeans against your ass each time he hits himself against you,

He smiles and keeps the pace, hand traveling down to rub on your clit gently, he didn’t want to overstimulate you— for now.

“Yes yes there”, you chant, your smaller hand holding his wrist, tugging it forward to press harder on your bundle of nerves.

And without further notice, the thread snaps. Your tummy churns and your legs spread even wider, if that was even possible, your body trembles as it contracts and gives Logan everything you have left to offer. You squeeze his dick, moaning wildly as his pace never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

Then you feel it too, his cum leaking from inside your cunt dripping down onto the couch, seeing the way his dick slips out from you and glistens with your mixed arousal. His eyes fixed on his cum gushing out from your pussy, doing his best to hold back.

You watched it too, and It made your pussy clench again, he obviously noticed it but he just chuckled and shook his head, putting a stray hair behind your ear.

“Easy there, we just fucked, we’ve got plenty of time to do it again”.

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK ! — ★ logan howlett.

･˳ . ⋆ sum. you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

pairing cagefighter!logan x bartender!reader

warnings fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick, sorry not sorry.

wc 3.9K

★ an ★ omg, corn w/o plot? my speciality, please enjoy this piece of work I wrote at four am during insomnia 😃 forgive any mistakes, they just slip past my eyes sometimes and I don’t proofread my works, lol. So I don’t know if I made it justice, I just kind of wrote what was in my head, hope you enjoy it anyways :)

Just like every other time you watched him from a distance, your heart would stop whenever one of his opponents managed to land a punch. But it didn’t matter—he remained standing. Steady.

As steady as his steps, pacing around the cage, eyeing his prey the way a lion eyes a gazelle, ready to pounce, sink its fangs in, spilling blood everywhere as it reveled in watching its victim fall.

Nothing was staged, though there were always rumors that someone helped him win, that it was simply impossible for him to take down his opponents so easily with just one punch to the jaw. You’d heard it all before, and you’d laughed every time. You knew who Logan was: a wild animal that couldn’t be tamed, thirsty for blood and victory—and maybe a few free shots of whiskey you managed to get him from the bar.

The place looked the same as always—smelled of cigarettes and aged whiskey, even the occasional hint of weed. But none of that could pull your attention away from the fight, from him.

There were nights were you had to make sure everything went as it should—no dirty moves, no corruption. Every corner of this dark, pretentious place was under your watchful eye. Besides, when you sometimes played as the timekeeper, you had the task of looking after him. And it’s not like it was a job you were paid to do—he just sought it out himself.

Before you got into all this fight business, you were just a normal woman working at a coffee shop in the city, taking orders left and right, spending your energy on a job that rarely compensated you fairly. But that’s just how things were... Or so you thought until you found this place: a basement of what used to be an apartment building, transformed into a run-down bar and the main entertainment hub for the slums. Cage fights seemed more interesting than a football match to these people.

At the start, you were hesitant about the idea, but you convinced yourself you’d enjoy it more and the pay was good.

When you first stepped into this place, your initial thought was that the floors were too sticky, filthy, and reeked of alcohol. But somehow, you got used to it, and the smell became a part of you—you could hardly notice it anymore, unlike those first few days you spent here.

Everything seemed monotonous at first; men fighting each other, trying to prove who had the bigger ego— maybe bigger dick.

You watched it all from a distance, serving drinks to drunken men who were just as thirsty for a fight, until everything changed.

He arrived.

Logan. The mysterious man nobody liked because everyone already had their favorite fighters, and when he showed up, everything went to hell. Literally.

Every time he stepped into that cage, he managed to knock out every single one of those idiots, leaving them with swollen eyes and dislocated jaws—some he even left unconscious.

Tonight was one of those many nights, where you lingered close and watched the fight, trying not to bite your lip every time, by pure luck and chance, one of his opponents managed to land a hit on his cheek. But they never had the upper hand—Logan always found a way to beat them, again and again.

Just as he always found a way to cage you inside his room after, keeping you to himself even though you tried to not get to involved, but you knew you were too far gone. You were too into him to care about the outcome, even worse when he made you enjoy it too much.

“Ah- Fuck”. You tremble on Logan’s lap, sweaty back resting on his broad chest while your hands hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He was the only one holding you up while he was knuckles deep inside your pulsating cunt. You tried not to bite too hard on your lip, but you already saw the way a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger, and it has you clenching down harder, tighter.

“It’s just one finger, princess- you can take it”, he rasps, head leveled to your ear, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey you managed to steal away for him; your hazy eyes looked around, noticing the small details your gaze always attached to when coming to his room: his leather jacket, his wife beater perched on the couch armrest, and the countless mags you left on the battered desk. But nothing was able to steal your attention for too long when the excitement from having him fingering you in his room had you curling your toes, along with the non-stopping motion of them.

“It’s so t-thick, I-I don’t think you’ll fit”, you babble out in broken words, referring to his dick. It’s been a few days since he’s been repeating the same cycle, eating you out then fingering you, preparing you to take his length— and even though you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he says is not the same.

It was your fault, really. You insisted you could take his fingers without him needing to eat you out, but you were already failing in the task. You felt your tummy churn in a line of zig zags as you sense him slowly sink another finger inside, leaving a burning trail behind. Your hand shot out to take his arm, curling around it to have something to ground yourself. “It f-feels weird”.

A breathy chortle leaves his lips, glass of whiskey lifting up, your gaze following the movement until it wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. His head goes back to his previous spot, stopping just a few inches from your ear, “I told ya, you wouldn’t be able to take them…”.

A frown etched on your features, sweaty brows knitting together at his words. Of course you could take them, he was just making fun of you because you weren’t thoroughly prepared like all those other times.

“I-I can take them”. You said, hand moving back to hold your leg, opening up even more for him. You could watch it in this position, and it made more slick gush out of your cunt, his covered finger kept pushing in and out slowly, patiently.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips when his index finger slides through your labia, scooping up more of your juices, teasing you. “You’re a big girl now? You think you can take it? Let’s see…”.

You hummed excitedly, your head moving up and down. You managed to get your ass a bit lower on his lap, your back sliding down just the right amount until it seemed you were going to sleep on his abdomen, chasing his fingers with your cunt.

You heard his low chuckle from behind, glass lifting up again to take a sip from his drink, “You’re so greedy, precious… but I’m holding back, just for you”.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything. Every finger he wanted to give you you’d accept it happily, didn’t matter if it hurt at first— you’d take the pain.

“Don’t hold back, I’ll be okay”, you assured, looking back at him. His hazel eyes were glued to you, lust and excitement swirling around in the depths of them, lips glistening from the whiskey he was nursing, you wanted to kiss him. “Gimme a kiss”, you plead, lips forming a pout when he shakes his head.

“Be patient, I’m busy fucking your cunt now, let me focus, mhm?”. Logan arched one brow, looking at you expectantly.

“Alright”, you mumbled, disappointment laced in your voice at him denying your request. He’d always kiss you afterwards, but you hoped he’d changed that when he noticed you were struggling.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl, you’ll get your reward soon”, he promises, not stopping for a moment the sweet and slow pacing of his fingers, smiling at the way your cunt clenched when you heard the nickname. Your walls were more clingy than they were in a daily basis, sticking against them like glue. You gasped when you feel his index finger teasing your entrance, “Pleaseplease, I can take one more…”.

Logan keeps his gaze fixed on yours, finally putting it in. You felt a delicious sting, one that managed to scratch that itch in your foggy brain. You squirmed on his lap, hips lifting up just the right amount to ease the small discomfort. A grunt left his throat, fingers slipping out of your dripping walls to spank at your cunt, followed by your whine at the sting, so different from the one his finger caused.

“I thought you could take it”.

His hand rested next to your cunt, fondling your inner thigh affectionately— but he did nothing else. Logan acted nonchalant, drinking from his glass as if he wasn’t finger fucking you just seconds ago. Your thighs were still wide open, arms growing weary from how long you’ve been holding them.

“Logan?”. you call once, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He ignored you, gaze fixed on the old TV perched on the coffee table feet away from you and the boring news channel he was ‘watching’.

He hummed, not looking your way. You frowned once more, but this it was not caused by the delicious pace of his fingers, but for his peculiar way of ignoring you.

You were there, laid open for him, perky nipples and sopping wet cunt waiting to get fucked- be it his fingers or dick. But he was ignoring you, holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything, one, two or four fingers— whatever he wanted to give you you’d accept it with open hands. But he didn’t want to hurt you, you knew the change in his demeanor the moment you lifted your hips, trying to ease the stinging pain, and though it was momentary, he stopped everything.

“Logan?”. you called once again, hand moving from your leg to hold his, trying to move him to your cunt so he can continue his ministrations, but he didn’t bulge. He held your thigh with more strength, slick covered fingers digging on your skin.

“If you want my fingers to fuck you, you’ve got to let me eat you out, if not then I can’t-”

“B-but I don’t want you to eat me out, you won’t fuck me with your dick if I’m too sore…”, you whined, lips pouting once more, watching his stoic face twitch just for a second and then a smirk finally appeared on his lips.

His fingers twitched too, caressing your outer labia with the tips— his other arm under your armpit, forearm glued to your ribs. You could see the condensation in the glass, drink almost finished, you were thirsty.

“Want some?”, he asked and you glanced back at him in thought, then nodding slowly. A grin spread across his mouth, pearly white teeth showing from between his pink lips. He moved the glass to drink from it, a disappointment feeling sinking deep into your chest when you noticed the drink was finished.

He noticed it in your features, the way you looked so disappointed thinking he was punishing you.

That’s why didn’t think he’d lower his head, lips attaching to your parted ones, liquid slipping to your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving your throat when the bitter liquid covered your tongue— mixed with his own saliva. It was utterly erotic to you, the way you shared everything, from his dog tags to his fluids.

All the time you were kissing, you felt his fingers move once more to your entrance, two of them breaching in at once— a gasp leaving your mouth the moment they bottomed out. Logan took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, twirling it with your own, stroking the warm muscle. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, slipping down to your chin.

His fingers hid inside your cunt walls, initiating a slow pace just like before, brushing that spongy spot with them. Your hand curled around his arm once more, feeling the hot skin beneath your fingers. Your back was sweaty, his chest and abdomen hair sticking to your skin.

“You’ve been so good, letting me do what I want, always”. He praised, a string of saliva formed after your heated kiss, keeping you somehow together even after he leaned back to plant a kiss on your head.

His digits moved at a faster pace now, the squelching sound your pussy made provoked his bulge to grow, a tent appearing in his pants beneath your lower back. The pain was too far gone, now you could only feel the pleasure.

“I think you can take a third, uh? You’re a big girl after all”, he asked teasingly, you could only nod effusively, pushing your hips further into his hand. As you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. He slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one, you whine before your entire body jitters.

Logan chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. "So three is the limit. I see…" and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. A slimey string of your wetness sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

He pops the three of them inside his mouth, his tongue devours your honeyed slick, brows furrowing in arousal before he takes them out, pressing them to your own lips. “C’mon pretty girl, taste yourself”.

Your lips happily part, and he puts two fingers inside, groaning when he noticed you greedily suck on them— thinking it was his dick you were sucking, not his fingers.

With a groan he takes them out, glass forgotten on the couch armrest and lifts you up, turning you around so you’re lying face down on his chest, dog tags digging into your cheek.

He takes the back of your neck and kisses you, a moan leaving your throat the moment your saliva mingling together. His slick covered fingers parted your ass cheek, scooping up more of your slick before putting his fingers back inside, fucking you faster, rougher.

Your head hid in the crook of his neck, arms enveloping his broad back tightly, as if it was the only thing that could keep your feet on the ground.

“We need to stretch it out, get it ready to take my dick, don’t wanna hurt this little girl”, he speaks, voice dripping with lust and it made heat pool beneath your cheeks.

“Logan? I-I don’t want you to hold back…”, you mumble, ass lifting higher, knees digging in the battered couch. “Want you to be rough, I- if that’s what you want…” your voice lowered with each word, shame finally settling in your brain.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them out, taking your waist and positioning you above the couch, the leather dampening with your sweet and juices.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open once again after you closed them in shame, “Don’t hide from me”.

Your arms hugged your chest, trying to cover your breasts from his sight, you were growing shy on him and he didn’t like that. Not even a bit.

“Stop that”, he said, tugging your hands off your chest, pinning them above your head. Your eyes avoided his, not wanting to meet his gaze, “Look at me”. He demanded, meaty thighs accommodating between yours, preventing you from closing them.

You look at him after a few seconds from looking at the humidity spot in the wall, “Need ya to tell me if it’s hurts, if you want to stop”.

Your head shakes up and down, “Okay”.

He nods in agreement and releases your hands, trailing his own down your body, stopping on your breasts, twirling the nipples between his index and forefinger, fondling the soft mounds in his much bigger hands. Then continued on his way, touching your ribs, waist and halting on your hip bone, thumb caressing the bone protruding from the skin.

He still had his jeans on, a wet spot staining them on the front, your juices. It made your pussy clench around nothing, skin heating up once again.

His hands hastily pulled his belt off, zipping his pants down, lowering them just the right amount to take his cock out through the front.

A gasp left your lips, mouth hanging open at the sight of his hard shaft, the angry tip leaked precum, the pearly white droplets making your mouth water. You’ve had him in your mouth before, you’ve tasted his skin and cum, the saltiness of his skin equals the one from his fluid and it makes your tongue tingle with anticipation. He watches the look you give him, the need for it you showed but he quickly denied you.

“Not tonight babe, I’m gonna fuck you now and nothing’s gonna stop me”.

Logan fisted it in his palm, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your pussy, head rubbing up and down on it, covering it in your slick, wetting it to perfection.

He swirled it around your clit, covering it in his cum, mixing his fluids with your own. Finally, his angry tip hooked on your entrance, making his way until you felt it was completely in.

It was a tight fit, your cunt felt like a big pole tried to enter you, but it was just the tip.

“Relax, you’re doing it good”, Logan mumbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. You tried to relax, to listen to him and loosen up a bit but the pressure was too much— you didn’t felt that way with his fingers.

“It’s not going to fit”, you repeat the same words from the start, thinking how dumb it was of yourself to think you could take that huge thing in between your legs. You tried to move back, forearms planted on the couch wanting to get away from his dick, but he stopped you.

“You told me to not hold back, and you’re doing the opposite thing… be good yeah? I really wanna fuck you”, he admitted, halting your movements.

You were going to try, just for him.

You both stayed still for a moment, he rejoiced in the way your spongy walls clenched around his hard shaft, and the way your chest heaved up and down, making your breasts jiggle slightly.

He tried not to cum, really tried. And he also tried not go all the way inside you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I’m gonna put it all in, yeah?”.

He finally asked and you could only nod, watching and feeling the way his dick leisurely entered. After a few seconds of trying, he finally bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass. It was a tight fit, of course, the stinging feeling from before was present too, but it was even worse than his fingers.

A small cry left your lips, eyes glassy and teeth biting down on your lips. Logan’s eyes softened, hand moving from your thighs to rest on your cheek, wiping the tear off with the pad of his digit. “Shh, it’ll be alright”. He assured.

He waited a few minutes, watching the way a few tears slid down your cheeks, wiping them off like before and whispering sweet things to you, to soothe you.

Logan realized you were ready the moment you started to squirm, tears stopping and heat returning to your cheeks, traveling down to your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna move now, is that okay?”, he asked, waiting for a verbal confirmation that everything was alright.

“Yeah, ‘m okay”.

When he heard those words, he finally let himself move. In and out, a steady and slow pace at first, then he started to fuck you harder. His dick hit your cervix, head stroking your vulva with greediness.

You knew he was holding back, you felt it. It didn’t hurt anymore, at least for now, but he was still holding back— you noticed it in his features, his frown and tight jaw gave him away. You wanted him to be him, to do what he wanted with your body. You wanted him to act the same way he acts in the cage.

You elevated a bit from your spot, reaching to his cheek with your hand, he was so tall you didn’t touch it at first, but he hunched over so you could.

“I-I told you to not hold b-back”, a whimper left your mouth when he hit that spot, a euphoric sensation spreading through your lower abdomen and legs. He noticed it, and he began to thrust faster.

He gripped the leg dangling from the side of the couch and made it lift to your chest, it felt completely different from moments before. You felt his dick hitting deeper, and you didn’t know if it was your imagination that made you sense the veins in his dick rubbing against your walls.

You looked down, trying to watch the way he slipped in and out of you, you only managed to catch a small glance, but it was the most erotic scene you’ve witnessed. Nothing you’ve ever done compares to this, not even when you’d finger yourself in front of the wall mirror at your apartment.

“Fuuck”, he groaned, hips snapping rapidly, the smacking sound being the only thing you heard in the small, deteriorated room, along with his grunts and your moans, that got higher and higher every time he bottomed out. “Are you good?”.

You’re too fucked dumb to reply, and Logan’s pace grows more and more erotic. The couch creaks again and again, your head spinning. You could sort of feel the rough fabric of his halfway pulled down jeans against your ass each time he hits himself against you,

He smiles and keeps the pace, hand traveling down to rub on your clit gently, he didn’t want to overstimulate you— for now.

“Yes yes there”, you chant, your smaller hand holding his wrist, tugging it forward to press harder on your bundle of nerves.

And without further notice, the thread snaps. Your tummy churns and your legs spread even wider, if that was even possible, your body trembles as it contracts and gives Logan everything you have left to offer. You squeeze his dick, moaning wildly as his pace never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

Then you feel it too, his cum leaking from inside your cunt dripping down onto the couch, seeing the way his dick slips out from you and glistens with your mixed arousal. His eyes fixed on his cum gushing out from your pussy, doing his best to hold back.

You watched it too, and It made your pussy clench again, he obviously noticed it but he just chuckled and shook his head, putting a stray hair behind your ear.

“Easy there, we just fucked, we’ve got plenty of time to do it again”.

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK ! — ★ logan howlett.

･˳ . ⋆ sum. you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

pairing cagefighter!logan x bartender!reader

warnings fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick, sorry not sorry.

wc 3.9K

★ an ★ omg, corn w/o plot? my speciality, please enjoy this piece of work I wrote at four am during insomnia 😃 forgive any mistakes, they just slip past my eyes sometimes and I don’t proofread my works, lol. So I don’t know if I made it justice, I just kind of wrote what was in my head, hope you enjoy it anyways :)

Just like every other time you watched him from a distance, your heart would stop whenever one of his opponents managed to land a punch. But it didn’t matter—he remained standing. Steady.

As steady as his steps, pacing around the cage, eyeing his prey the way a lion eyes a gazelle, ready to pounce, sink its fangs in, spilling blood everywhere as it reveled in watching its victim fall.

Nothing was staged, though there were always rumors that someone helped him win, that it was simply impossible for him to take down his opponents so easily with just one punch to the jaw. You’d heard it all before, and you’d laughed every time. You knew who Logan was: a wild animal that couldn’t be tamed, thirsty for blood and victory—and maybe a few free shots of whiskey you managed to get him from the bar.

The place looked the same as always—smelled of cigarettes and aged whiskey, even the occasional hint of weed. But none of that could pull your attention away from the fight, from him.

There were nights were you had to make sure everything went as it should—no dirty moves, no corruption. Every corner of this dark, pretentious place was under your watchful eye. Besides, when you sometimes played as the timekeeper, you had the task of looking after him. And it’s not like it was a job you were paid to do—he just sought it out himself.

Before you got into all this fight business, you were just a normal woman working at a coffee shop in the city, taking orders left and right, spending your energy on a job that rarely compensated you fairly. But that’s just how things were... Or so you thought until you found this place: a basement of what used to be an apartment building, transformed into a run-down bar and the main entertainment hub for the slums. Cage fights seemed more interesting than a football match to these people.

At the start, you were hesitant about the idea, but you convinced yourself you’d enjoy it more and the pay was good.

When you first stepped into this place, your initial thought was that the floors were too sticky, filthy, and reeked of alcohol. But somehow, you got used to it, and the smell became a part of you—you could hardly notice it anymore, unlike those first few days you spent here.

Everything seemed monotonous at first; men fighting each other, trying to prove who had the bigger ego— maybe bigger dick.

You watched it all from a distance, serving drinks to drunken men who were just as thirsty for a fight, until everything changed.

He arrived.

Logan. The mysterious man nobody liked because everyone already had their favorite fighters, and when he showed up, everything went to hell. Literally.

Every time he stepped into that cage, he managed to knock out every single one of those idiots, leaving them with swollen eyes and dislocated jaws—some he even left unconscious.

Tonight was one of those many nights, where you lingered close and watched the fight, trying not to bite your lip every time, by pure luck and chance, one of his opponents managed to land a hit on his cheek. But they never had the upper hand—Logan always found a way to beat them, again and again.

Just as he always found a way to cage you inside his room after, keeping you to himself even though you tried to not get to involved, but you knew you were too far gone. You were too into him to care about the outcome, even worse when he made you enjoy it too much.

“Ah- Fuck”. You tremble on Logan’s lap, sweaty back resting on his broad chest while your hands hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He was the only one holding you up while he was knuckles deep inside your pulsating cunt. You tried not to bite too hard on your lip, but you already saw the way a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger, and it has you clenching down harder, tighter.

“It’s just one finger, princess- you can take it”, he rasps, head leveled to your ear, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey you managed to steal away for him; your hazy eyes looked around, noticing the small details your gaze always attached to when coming to his room: his leather jacket, his wife beater perched on the couch armrest, and the countless mags you left on the battered desk. But nothing was able to steal your attention for too long when the excitement from having him fingering you in his room had you curling your toes, along with the non-stopping motion of them.

“It’s so t-thick, I-I don’t think you’ll fit”, you babble out in broken words, referring to his dick. It’s been a few days since he’s been repeating the same cycle, eating you out then fingering you, preparing you to take his length— and even though you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he says is not the same.

It was your fault, really. You insisted you could take his fingers without him needing to eat you out, but you were already failing in the task. You felt your tummy churn in a line of zig zags as you sense him slowly sink another finger inside, leaving a burning trail behind. Your hand shot out to take his arm, curling around it to have something to ground yourself. “It f-feels weird”.

A breathy chortle leaves his lips, glass of whiskey lifting up, your gaze following the movement until it wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. His head goes back to his previous spot, stopping just a few inches from your ear, “I told ya, you wouldn’t be able to take them…”.

A frown etched on your features, sweaty brows knitting together at his words. Of course you could take them, he was just making fun of you because you weren’t thoroughly prepared like all those other times.

“I-I can take them”. You said, hand moving back to hold your leg, opening up even more for him. You could watch it in this position, and it made more slick gush out of your cunt, his covered finger kept pushing in and out slowly, patiently.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips when his index finger slides through your labia, scooping up more of your juices, teasing you. “You’re a big girl now? You think you can take it? Let’s see…”.

You hummed excitedly, your head moving up and down. You managed to get your ass a bit lower on his lap, your back sliding down just the right amount until it seemed you were going to sleep on his abdomen, chasing his fingers with your cunt.

You heard his low chuckle from behind, glass lifting up again to take a sip from his drink, “You’re so greedy, precious… but I’m holding back, just for you”.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything. Every finger he wanted to give you you’d accept it happily, didn’t matter if it hurt at first— you’d take the pain.

“Don’t hold back, I’ll be okay”, you assured, looking back at him. His hazel eyes were glued to you, lust and excitement swirling around in the depths of them, lips glistening from the whiskey he was nursing, you wanted to kiss him. “Gimme a kiss”, you plead, lips forming a pout when he shakes his head.

“Be patient, I’m busy fucking your cunt now, let me focus, mhm?”. Logan arched one brow, looking at you expectantly.

“Alright”, you mumbled, disappointment laced in your voice at him denying your request. He’d always kiss you afterwards, but you hoped he’d changed that when he noticed you were struggling.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl, you’ll get your reward soon”, he promises, not stopping for a moment the sweet and slow pacing of his fingers, smiling at the way your cunt clenched when you heard the nickname. Your walls were more clingy than they were in a daily basis, sticking against them like glue. You gasped when you feel his index finger teasing your entrance, “Pleaseplease, I can take one more…”.

Logan keeps his gaze fixed on yours, finally putting it in. You felt a delicious sting, one that managed to scratch that itch in your foggy brain. You squirmed on his lap, hips lifting up just the right amount to ease the small discomfort. A grunt left his throat, fingers slipping out of your dripping walls to spank at your cunt, followed by your whine at the sting, so different from the one his finger caused.

“I thought you could take it”.

His hand rested next to your cunt, fondling your inner thigh affectionately— but he did nothing else. Logan acted nonchalant, drinking from his glass as if he wasn’t finger fucking you just seconds ago. Your thighs were still wide open, arms growing weary from how long you’ve been holding them.

“Logan?”. you call once, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He ignored you, gaze fixed on the old TV perched on the coffee table feet away from you and the boring news channel he was ‘watching’.

He hummed, not looking your way. You frowned once more, but this it was not caused by the delicious pace of his fingers, but for his peculiar way of ignoring you.

You were there, laid open for him, perky nipples and sopping wet cunt waiting to get fucked- be it his fingers or dick. But he was ignoring you, holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything, one, two or four fingers— whatever he wanted to give you you’d accept it with open hands. But he didn’t want to hurt you, you knew the change in his demeanor the moment you lifted your hips, trying to ease the stinging pain, and though it was momentary, he stopped everything.

“Logan?”. you called once again, hand moving from your leg to hold his, trying to move him to your cunt so he can continue his ministrations, but he didn’t bulge. He held your thigh with more strength, slick covered fingers digging on your skin.

“If you want my fingers to fuck you, you’ve got to let me eat you out, if not then I can’t-”

“B-but I don’t want you to eat me out, you won’t fuck me with your dick if I’m too sore…”, you whined, lips pouting once more, watching his stoic face twitch just for a second and then a smirk finally appeared on his lips.

His fingers twitched too, caressing your outer labia with the tips— his other arm under your armpit, forearm glued to your ribs. You could see the condensation in the glass, drink almost finished, you were thirsty.

“Want some?”, he asked and you glanced back at him in thought, then nodding slowly. A grin spread across his mouth, pearly white teeth showing from between his pink lips. He moved the glass to drink from it, a disappointment feeling sinking deep into your chest when you noticed the drink was finished.

He noticed it in your features, the way you looked so disappointed thinking he was punishing you.

That’s why didn’t think he’d lower his head, lips attaching to your parted ones, liquid slipping to your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving your throat when the bitter liquid covered your tongue— mixed with his own saliva. It was utterly erotic to you, the way you shared everything, from his dog tags to his fluids.

All the time you were kissing, you felt his fingers move once more to your entrance, two of them breaching in at once— a gasp leaving your mouth the moment they bottomed out. Logan took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, twirling it with your own, stroking the warm muscle. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, slipping down to your chin.

His fingers hid inside your cunt walls, initiating a slow pace just like before, brushing that spongy spot with them. Your hand curled around his arm once more, feeling the hot skin beneath your fingers. Your back was sweaty, his chest and abdomen hair sticking to your skin.

“You’ve been so good, letting me do what I want, always”. He praised, a string of saliva formed after your heated kiss, keeping you somehow together even after he leaned back to plant a kiss on your head.

His digits moved at a faster pace now, the squelching sound your pussy made provoked his bulge to grow, a tent appearing in his pants beneath your lower back. The pain was too far gone, now you could only feel the pleasure.

“I think you can take a third, uh? You’re a big girl after all”, he asked teasingly, you could only nod effusively, pushing your hips further into his hand. As you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. He slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one, you whine before your entire body jitters.

Logan chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. "So three is the limit. I see…" and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. A slimey string of your wetness sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

He pops the three of them inside his mouth, his tongue devours your honeyed slick, brows furrowing in arousal before he takes them out, pressing them to your own lips. “C’mon pretty girl, taste yourself”.

Your lips happily part, and he puts two fingers inside, groaning when he noticed you greedily suck on them— thinking it was his dick you were sucking, not his fingers.

With a groan he takes them out, glass forgotten on the couch armrest and lifts you up, turning you around so you’re lying face down on his chest, dog tags digging into your cheek.

He takes the back of your neck and kisses you, a moan leaving your throat the moment your saliva mingling together. His slick covered fingers parted your ass cheek, scooping up more of your slick before putting his fingers back inside, fucking you faster, rougher.

Your head hid in the crook of his neck, arms enveloping his broad back tightly, as if it was the only thing that could keep your feet on the ground.

“We need to stretch it out, get it ready to take my dick, don’t wanna hurt this little girl”, he speaks, voice dripping with lust and it made heat pool beneath your cheeks.

“Logan? I-I don’t want you to hold back…”, you mumble, ass lifting higher, knees digging in the battered couch. “Want you to be rough, I- if that’s what you want…” your voice lowered with each word, shame finally settling in your brain.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them out, taking your waist and positioning you above the couch, the leather dampening with your sweet and juices.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open once again after you closed them in shame, “Don’t hide from me”.

Your arms hugged your chest, trying to cover your breasts from his sight, you were growing shy on him and he didn’t like that. Not even a bit.

“Stop that”, he said, tugging your hands off your chest, pinning them above your head. Your eyes avoided his, not wanting to meet his gaze, “Look at me”. He demanded, meaty thighs accommodating between yours, preventing you from closing them.

You look at him after a few seconds from looking at the humidity spot in the wall, “Need ya to tell me if it’s hurts, if you want to stop”.

Your head shakes up and down, “Okay”.

He nods in agreement and releases your hands, trailing his own down your body, stopping on your breasts, twirling the nipples between his index and forefinger, fondling the soft mounds in his much bigger hands. Then continued on his way, touching your ribs, waist and halting on your hip bone, thumb caressing the bone protruding from the skin.

He still had his jeans on, a wet spot staining them on the front, your juices. It made your pussy clench around nothing, skin heating up once again.

His hands hastily pulled his belt off, zipping his pants down, lowering them just the right amount to take his cock out through the front.

A gasp left your lips, mouth hanging open at the sight of his hard shaft, the angry tip leaked precum, the pearly white droplets making your mouth water. You’ve had him in your mouth before, you’ve tasted his skin and cum, the saltiness of his skin equals the one from his fluid and it makes your tongue tingle with anticipation. He watches the look you give him, the need for it you showed but he quickly denied you.

“Not tonight babe, I’m gonna fuck you now and nothing’s gonna stop me”.

Logan fisted it in his palm, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your pussy, head rubbing up and down on it, covering it in your slick, wetting it to perfection.

He swirled it around your clit, covering it in his cum, mixing his fluids with your own. Finally, his angry tip hooked on your entrance, making his way until you felt it was completely in.

It was a tight fit, your cunt felt like a big pole tried to enter you, but it was just the tip.

“Relax, you’re doing it good”, Logan mumbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. You tried to relax, to listen to him and loosen up a bit but the pressure was too much— you didn’t felt that way with his fingers.

“It’s not going to fit”, you repeat the same words from the start, thinking how dumb it was of yourself to think you could take that huge thing in between your legs. You tried to move back, forearms planted on the couch wanting to get away from his dick, but he stopped you.

“You told me to not hold back, and you’re doing the opposite thing… be good yeah? I really wanna fuck you”, he admitted, halting your movements.

You were going to try, just for him.

You both stayed still for a moment, he rejoiced in the way your spongy walls clenched around his hard shaft, and the way your chest heaved up and down, making your breasts jiggle slightly.

He tried not to cum, really tried. And he also tried not go all the way inside you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I’m gonna put it all in, yeah?”.

He finally asked and you could only nod, watching and feeling the way his dick leisurely entered. After a few seconds of trying, he finally bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass. It was a tight fit, of course, the stinging feeling from before was present too, but it was even worse than his fingers.

A small cry left your lips, eyes glassy and teeth biting down on your lips. Logan’s eyes softened, hand moving from your thighs to rest on your cheek, wiping the tear off with the pad of his digit. “Shh, it’ll be alright”. He assured.

He waited a few minutes, watching the way a few tears slid down your cheeks, wiping them off like before and whispering sweet things to you, to soothe you.

Logan realized you were ready the moment you started to squirm, tears stopping and heat returning to your cheeks, traveling down to your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna move now, is that okay?”, he asked, waiting for a verbal confirmation that everything was alright.

“Yeah, ‘m okay”.

When he heard those words, he finally let himself move. In and out, a steady and slow pace at first, then he started to fuck you harder. His dick hit your cervix, head stroking your vulva with greediness.

You knew he was holding back, you felt it. It didn’t hurt anymore, at least for now, but he was still holding back— you noticed it in his features, his frown and tight jaw gave him away. You wanted him to be him, to do what he wanted with your body. You wanted him to act the same way he acts in the cage.

You elevated a bit from your spot, reaching to his cheek with your hand, he was so tall you didn’t touch it at first, but he hunched over so you could.

“I-I told you to not hold b-back”, a whimper left your mouth when he hit that spot, a euphoric sensation spreading through your lower abdomen and legs. He noticed it, and he began to thrust faster.

He gripped the leg dangling from the side of the couch and made it lift to your chest, it felt completely different from moments before. You felt his dick hitting deeper, and you didn’t know if it was your imagination that made you sense the veins in his dick rubbing against your walls.

You looked down, trying to watch the way he slipped in and out of you, you only managed to catch a small glance, but it was the most erotic scene you’ve witnessed. Nothing you’ve ever done compares to this, not even when you’d finger yourself in front of the wall mirror at your apartment.

“Fuuck”, he groaned, hips snapping rapidly, the smacking sound being the only thing you heard in the small, deteriorated room, along with his grunts and your moans, that got higher and higher every time he bottomed out. “Are you good?”.

You’re too fucked dumb to reply, and Logan’s pace grows more and more erotic. The couch creaks again and again, your head spinning. You could sort of feel the rough fabric of his halfway pulled down jeans against your ass each time he hits himself against you,

He smiles and keeps the pace, hand traveling down to rub on your clit gently, he didn’t want to overstimulate you— for now.

“Yes yes there”, you chant, your smaller hand holding his wrist, tugging it forward to press harder on your bundle of nerves.

And without further notice, the thread snaps. Your tummy churns and your legs spread even wider, if that was even possible, your body trembles as it contracts and gives Logan everything you have left to offer. You squeeze his dick, moaning wildly as his pace never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

Then you feel it too, his cum leaking from inside your cunt dripping down onto the couch, seeing the way his dick slips out from you and glistens with your mixed arousal. His eyes fixed on his cum gushing out from your pussy, doing his best to hold back.

You watched it too, and It made your pussy clench again, he obviously noticed it but he just chuckled and shook his head, putting a stray hair behind your ear.

“Easy there, we just fucked, we’ve got plenty of time to do it again”.

hello! here you’ll find my works easier, even if they’re just a few. I write short stories but I also have long works i expect to publish soon, they’re all smut so I you’re not up to that then this is not your blog— ofc they include fluff, angst and all that but they also contain +18 scenes.

I just write for logan howlett and avoid writing any sa topic related fics, so this is a safe space! I take requests but I choose what to write and what not.

about me/navi

© slutspinks - all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any medium is not allowed. translations not allowed unless you ask for permission and not just take stuff like it's yours. gifs and dividers are not mine!

key ↓

a- angst

f- fluff

s- smut

OBSESSED — @ logan howlett

s↳ synopsis: what started as a crush, developed into sweet obsession.

it contains: stalking, obsessive!logan, usual shit from wade but he is a bit serious here, fem!reader, stealing, home breaking?, foul language, m masturbation. logan acts like a a real perv.

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK — @ logan howlett

s↳ synopsis: you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

it contains: fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick.

s↳ logan and you try a different position.

it contains: fem!reader. 69ing obv, bit of praising, pussy drunk man, overstim, dirty talk, pet names (princess), slight ass play (jus’ a little teasing).

s↳ logan gives into his girl’s urges.

it contains: fem!reader, unprotected, established relationship, cowgirl, begging, brēedıng kink. baby trapping.

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK ! — ★ logan howlett.

･˳ . ⋆ sum. you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

pairing cagefighter!logan x bartender!reader

warnings fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick, sorry not sorry.

wc 3.9K

★ an ★ omg, corn w/o plot? my speciality, please enjoy this piece of work I wrote at four am during insomnia 😃 forgive any mistakes, they just slip past my eyes sometimes and I don’t proofread my works, lol. So I don’t know if I made it justice, I just kind of wrote what was in my head, hope you enjoy it anyways :)

Just like every other time you watched him from a distance, your heart would stop whenever one of his opponents managed to land a punch. But it didn’t matter—he remained standing. Steady.

As steady as his steps, pacing around the cage, eyeing his prey the way a lion eyes a gazelle, ready to pounce, sink its fangs in, spilling blood everywhere as it reveled in watching its victim fall.

Nothing was staged, though there were always rumors that someone helped him win, that it was simply impossible for him to take down his opponents so easily with just one punch to the jaw. You’d heard it all before, and you’d laughed every time. You knew who Logan was: a wild animal that couldn’t be tamed, thirsty for blood and victory—and maybe a few free shots of whiskey you managed to get him from the bar.

The place looked the same as always—smelled of cigarettes and aged whiskey, even the occasional hint of weed. But none of that could pull your attention away from the fight, from him.

There were nights were you had to make sure everything went as it should—no dirty moves, no corruption. Every corner of this dark, pretentious place was under your watchful eye. Besides, when you sometimes played as the timekeeper, you had the task of looking after him. And it’s not like it was a job you were paid to do—he just sought it out himself.

Before you got into all this fight business, you were just a normal woman working at a coffee shop in the city, taking orders left and right, spending your energy on a job that rarely compensated you fairly. But that’s just how things were... Or so you thought until you found this place: a basement of what used to be an apartment building, transformed into a run-down bar and the main entertainment hub for the slums. Cage fights seemed more interesting than a football match to these people.

At the start, you were hesitant about the idea, but you convinced yourself you’d enjoy it more and the pay was good.

When you first stepped into this place, your initial thought was that the floors were too sticky, filthy, and reeked of alcohol. But somehow, you got used to it, and the smell became a part of you—you could hardly notice it anymore, unlike those first few days you spent here.

Everything seemed monotonous at first; men fighting each other, trying to prove who had the bigger ego— maybe bigger dick.

You watched it all from a distance, serving drinks to drunken men who were just as thirsty for a fight, until everything changed.

He arrived.

Logan. The mysterious man nobody liked because everyone already had their favorite fighters, and when he showed up, everything went to hell. Literally.

Every time he stepped into that cage, he managed to knock out every single one of those idiots, leaving them with swollen eyes and dislocated jaws—some he even left unconscious.

Tonight was one of those many nights, where you lingered close and watched the fight, trying not to bite your lip every time, by pure luck and chance, one of his opponents managed to land a hit on his cheek. But they never had the upper hand—Logan always found a way to beat them, again and again.

Just as he always found a way to cage you inside his room after, keeping you to himself even though you tried to not get to involved, but you knew you were too far gone. You were too into him to care about the outcome, even worse when he made you enjoy it too much.

“Ah- Fuck”. You tremble on Logan’s lap, sweaty back resting on his broad chest while your hands hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He was the only one holding you up while he was knuckles deep inside your pulsating cunt. You tried not to bite too hard on your lip, but you already saw the way a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger, and it has you clenching down harder, tighter.

“It’s just one finger, princess- you can take it”, he rasps, head leveled to your ear, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey you managed to steal away for him; your hazy eyes looked around, noticing the small details your gaze always attached to when coming to his room: his leather jacket, his wife beater perched on the couch armrest, and the countless mags you left on the battered desk. But nothing was able to steal your attention for too long when the excitement from having him fingering you in his room had you curling your toes, along with the non-stopping motion of them.

“It’s so t-thick, I-I don’t think you’ll fit”, you babble out in broken words, referring to his dick. It’s been a few days since he’s been repeating the same cycle, eating you out then fingering you, preparing you to take his length— and even though you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he says is not the same.

It was your fault, really. You insisted you could take his fingers without him needing to eat you out, but you were already failing in the task. You felt your tummy churn in a line of zig zags as you sense him slowly sink another finger inside, leaving a burning trail behind. Your hand shot out to take his arm, curling around it to have something to ground yourself. “It f-feels weird”.

A breathy chortle leaves his lips, glass of whiskey lifting up, your gaze following the movement until it wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. His head goes back to his previous spot, stopping just a few inches from your ear, “I told ya, you wouldn’t be able to take them…”.

A frown etched on your features, sweaty brows knitting together at his words. Of course you could take them, he was just making fun of you because you weren’t thoroughly prepared like all those other times.

“I-I can take them”. You said, hand moving back to hold your leg, opening up even more for him. You could watch it in this position, and it made more slick gush out of your cunt, his covered finger kept pushing in and out slowly, patiently.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips when his index finger slides through your labia, scooping up more of your juices, teasing you. “You’re a big girl now? You think you can take it? Let’s see…”.

You hummed excitedly, your head moving up and down. You managed to get your ass a bit lower on his lap, your back sliding down just the right amount until it seemed you were going to sleep on his abdomen, chasing his fingers with your cunt.

You heard his low chuckle from behind, glass lifting up again to take a sip from his drink, “You’re so greedy, precious… but I’m holding back, just for you”.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything. Every finger he wanted to give you you’d accept it happily, didn’t matter if it hurt at first— you’d take the pain.

“Don’t hold back, I’ll be okay”, you assured, looking back at him. His hazel eyes were glued to you, lust and excitement swirling around in the depths of them, lips glistening from the whiskey he was nursing, you wanted to kiss him. “Gimme a kiss”, you plead, lips forming a pout when he shakes his head.

“Be patient, I’m busy fucking your cunt now, let me focus, mhm?”. Logan arched one brow, looking at you expectantly.

“Alright”, you mumbled, disappointment laced in your voice at him denying your request. He’d always kiss you afterwards, but you hoped he’d changed that when he noticed you were struggling.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl, you’ll get your reward soon”, he promises, not stopping for a moment the sweet and slow pacing of his fingers, smiling at the way your cunt clenched when you heard the nickname. Your walls were more clingy than they were in a daily basis, sticking against them like glue. You gasped when you feel his index finger teasing your entrance, “Pleaseplease, I can take one more…”.

Logan keeps his gaze fixed on yours, finally putting it in. You felt a delicious sting, one that managed to scratch that itch in your foggy brain. You squirmed on his lap, hips lifting up just the right amount to ease the small discomfort. A grunt left his throat, fingers slipping out of your dripping walls to spank at your cunt, followed by your whine at the sting, so different from the one his finger caused.

“I thought you could take it”.

His hand rested next to your cunt, fondling your inner thigh affectionately— but he did nothing else. Logan acted nonchalant, drinking from his glass as if he wasn’t finger fucking you just seconds ago. Your thighs were still wide open, arms growing weary from how long you’ve been holding them.

“Logan?”. you call once, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He ignored you, gaze fixed on the old TV perched on the coffee table feet away from you and the boring news channel he was ‘watching’.

He hummed, not looking your way. You frowned once more, but this it was not caused by the delicious pace of his fingers, but for his peculiar way of ignoring you.

You were there, laid open for him, perky nipples and sopping wet cunt waiting to get fucked- be it his fingers or dick. But he was ignoring you, holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything, one, two or four fingers— whatever he wanted to give you you’d accept it with open hands. But he didn’t want to hurt you, you knew the change in his demeanor the moment you lifted your hips, trying to ease the stinging pain, and though it was momentary, he stopped everything.

“Logan?”. you called once again, hand moving from your leg to hold his, trying to move him to your cunt so he can continue his ministrations, but he didn’t bulge. He held your thigh with more strength, slick covered fingers digging on your skin.

“If you want my fingers to fuck you, you’ve got to let me eat you out, if not then I can’t-”

“B-but I don’t want you to eat me out, you won’t fuck me with your dick if I’m too sore…”, you whined, lips pouting once more, watching his stoic face twitch just for a second and then a smirk finally appeared on his lips.

His fingers twitched too, caressing your outer labia with the tips— his other arm under your armpit, forearm glued to your ribs. You could see the condensation in the glass, drink almost finished, you were thirsty.

“Want some?”, he asked and you glanced back at him in thought, then nodding slowly. A grin spread across his mouth, pearly white teeth showing from between his pink lips. He moved the glass to drink from it, a disappointment feeling sinking deep into your chest when you noticed the drink was finished.

He noticed it in your features, the way you looked so disappointed thinking he was punishing you.

That’s why didn’t think he’d lower his head, lips attaching to your parted ones, liquid slipping to your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving your throat when the bitter liquid covered your tongue— mixed with his own saliva. It was utterly erotic to you, the way you shared everything, from his dog tags to his fluids.

All the time you were kissing, you felt his fingers move once more to your entrance, two of them breaching in at once— a gasp leaving your mouth the moment they bottomed out. Logan took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, twirling it with your own, stroking the warm muscle. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, slipping down to your chin.

His fingers hid inside your cunt walls, initiating a slow pace just like before, brushing that spongy spot with them. Your hand curled around his arm once more, feeling the hot skin beneath your fingers. Your back was sweaty, his chest and abdomen hair sticking to your skin.

“You’ve been so good, letting me do what I want, always”. He praised, a string of saliva formed after your heated kiss, keeping you somehow together even after he leaned back to plant a kiss on your head.

His digits moved at a faster pace now, the squelching sound your pussy made provoked his bulge to grow, a tent appearing in his pants beneath your lower back. The pain was too far gone, now you could only feel the pleasure.

“I think you can take a third, uh? You’re a big girl after all”, he asked teasingly, you could only nod effusively, pushing your hips further into his hand. As you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. He slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one, you whine before your entire body jitters.

Logan chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. "So three is the limit. I see…" and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. A slimey string of your wetness sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

He pops the three of them inside his mouth, his tongue devours your honeyed slick, brows furrowing in arousal before he takes them out, pressing them to your own lips. “C’mon pretty girl, taste yourself”.

Your lips happily part, and he puts two fingers inside, groaning when he noticed you greedily suck on them— thinking it was his dick you were sucking, not his fingers.

With a groan he takes them out, glass forgotten on the couch armrest and lifts you up, turning you around so you’re lying face down on his chest, dog tags digging into your cheek.

He takes the back of your neck and kisses you, a moan leaving your throat the moment your saliva mingling together. His slick covered fingers parted your ass cheek, scooping up more of your slick before putting his fingers back inside, fucking you faster, rougher.

Your head hid in the crook of his neck, arms enveloping his broad back tightly, as if it was the only thing that could keep your feet on the ground.

“We need to stretch it out, get it ready to take my dick, don’t wanna hurt this little girl”, he speaks, voice dripping with lust and it made heat pool beneath your cheeks.

“Logan? I-I don’t want you to hold back…”, you mumble, ass lifting higher, knees digging in the battered couch. “Want you to be rough, I- if that’s what you want…” your voice lowered with each word, shame finally settling in your brain.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them out, taking your waist and positioning you above the couch, the leather dampening with your sweet and juices.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open once again after you closed them in shame, “Don’t hide from me”.

Your arms hugged your chest, trying to cover your breasts from his sight, you were growing shy on him and he didn’t like that. Not even a bit.

“Stop that”, he said, tugging your hands off your chest, pinning them above your head. Your eyes avoided his, not wanting to meet his gaze, “Look at me”. He demanded, meaty thighs accommodating between yours, preventing you from closing them.

You look at him after a few seconds from looking at the humidity spot in the wall, “Need ya to tell me if it’s hurts, if you want to stop”.

Your head shakes up and down, “Okay”.

He nods in agreement and releases your hands, trailing his own down your body, stopping on your breasts, twirling the nipples between his index and forefinger, fondling the soft mounds in his much bigger hands. Then continued on his way, touching your ribs, waist and halting on your hip bone, thumb caressing the bone protruding from the skin.

He still had his jeans on, a wet spot staining them on the front, your juices. It made your pussy clench around nothing, skin heating up once again.

His hands hastily pulled his belt off, zipping his pants down, lowering them just the right amount to take his cock out through the front.

A gasp left your lips, mouth hanging open at the sight of his hard shaft, the angry tip leaked precum, the pearly white droplets making your mouth water. You’ve had him in your mouth before, you’ve tasted his skin and cum, the saltiness of his skin equals the one from his fluid and it makes your tongue tingle with anticipation. He watches the look you give him, the need for it you showed but he quickly denied you.

“Not tonight babe, I’m gonna fuck you now and nothing’s gonna stop me”.

Logan fisted it in his palm, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your pussy, head rubbing up and down on it, covering it in your slick, wetting it to perfection.

He swirled it around your clit, covering it in his cum, mixing his fluids with your own. Finally, his angry tip hooked on your entrance, making his way until you felt it was completely in.

It was a tight fit, your cunt felt like a big pole tried to enter you, but it was just the tip.

“Relax, you’re doing it good”, Logan mumbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. You tried to relax, to listen to him and loosen up a bit but the pressure was too much— you didn’t felt that way with his fingers.

“It’s not going to fit”, you repeat the same words from the start, thinking how dumb it was of yourself to think you could take that huge thing in between your legs. You tried to move back, forearms planted on the couch wanting to get away from his dick, but he stopped you.

“You told me to not hold back, and you’re doing the opposite thing… be good yeah? I really wanna fuck you”, he admitted, halting your movements.

You were going to try, just for him.

You both stayed still for a moment, he rejoiced in the way your spongy walls clenched around his hard shaft, and the way your chest heaved up and down, making your breasts jiggle slightly.

He tried not to cum, really tried. And he also tried not go all the way inside you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I’m gonna put it all in, yeah?”.

He finally asked and you could only nod, watching and feeling the way his dick leisurely entered. After a few seconds of trying, he finally bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass. It was a tight fit, of course, the stinging feeling from before was present too, but it was even worse than his fingers.

A small cry left your lips, eyes glassy and teeth biting down on your lips. Logan’s eyes softened, hand moving from your thighs to rest on your cheek, wiping the tear off with the pad of his digit. “Shh, it’ll be alright”. He assured.

He waited a few minutes, watching the way a few tears slid down your cheeks, wiping them off like before and whispering sweet things to you, to soothe you.

Logan realized you were ready the moment you started to squirm, tears stopping and heat returning to your cheeks, traveling down to your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna move now, is that okay?”, he asked, waiting for a verbal confirmation that everything was alright.

“Yeah, ‘m okay”.

When he heard those words, he finally let himself move. In and out, a steady and slow pace at first, then he started to fuck you harder. His dick hit your cervix, head stroking your vulva with greediness.

You knew he was holding back, you felt it. It didn’t hurt anymore, at least for now, but he was still holding back— you noticed it in his features, his frown and tight jaw gave him away. You wanted him to be him, to do what he wanted with your body. You wanted him to act the same way he acts in the cage.

You elevated a bit from your spot, reaching to his cheek with your hand, he was so tall you didn’t touch it at first, but he hunched over so you could.

“I-I told you to not hold b-back”, a whimper left your mouth when he hit that spot, a euphoric sensation spreading through your lower abdomen and legs. He noticed it, and he began to thrust faster.

He gripped the leg dangling from the side of the couch and made it lift to your chest, it felt completely different from moments before. You felt his dick hitting deeper, and you didn’t know if it was your imagination that made you sense the veins in his dick rubbing against your walls.

You looked down, trying to watch the way he slipped in and out of you, you only managed to catch a small glance, but it was the most erotic scene you’ve witnessed. Nothing you’ve ever done compares to this, not even when you’d finger yourself in front of the wall mirror at your apartment.

“Fuuck”, he groaned, hips snapping rapidly, the smacking sound being the only thing you heard in the small, deteriorated room, along with his grunts and your moans, that got higher and higher every time he bottomed out. “Are you good?”.

You’re too fucked dumb to reply, and Logan’s pace grows more and more erotic. The couch creaks again and again, your head spinning. You could sort of feel the rough fabric of his halfway pulled down jeans against your ass each time he hits himself against you,

He smiles and keeps the pace, hand traveling down to rub on your clit gently, he didn’t want to overstimulate you— for now.

“Yes yes there”, you chant, your smaller hand holding his wrist, tugging it forward to press harder on your bundle of nerves.

And without further notice, the thread snaps. Your tummy churns and your legs spread even wider, if that was even possible, your body trembles as it contracts and gives Logan everything you have left to offer. You squeeze his dick, moaning wildly as his pace never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

Then you feel it too, his cum leaking from inside your cunt dripping down onto the couch, seeing the way his dick slips out from you and glistens with your mixed arousal. His eyes fixed on his cum gushing out from your pussy, doing his best to hold back.

You watched it too, and It made your pussy clench again, he obviously noticed it but he just chuckled and shook his head, putting a stray hair behind your ear.

“Easy there, we just fucked, we’ve got plenty of time to do it again”.

NOTHING HOLDIN’ ME BACK ! — ★ logan howlett.

･˳ . ⋆ sum. you’ve seen him fight, move around his cage like a wild animal, made of hard muscle and thirsty for blood. but you’ve grown tired of him holding back— you’re finally letting him out.

pairing cagefighter!logan x bartender!reader

warnings fem!reader, praising, begging, fingering, nipple play, p in v, creampie, unprotected, no use of y/n but I used pet names (precious, babe…). so much use of the word slick, sorry not sorry.

wc 3.9K

★ an ★ omg, corn w/o plot? my speciality, please enjoy this piece of work I wrote at four am during insomnia 😃 forgive any mistakes, they just slip past my eyes sometimes and I don’t proofread my works, lol. So I don’t know if I made it justice, I just kind of wrote what was in my head, hope you enjoy it anyways :)

Just like every other time you watched him from a distance, your heart would stop whenever one of his opponents managed to land a punch. But it didn’t matter—he remained standing. Steady.

As steady as his steps, pacing around the cage, eyeing his prey the way a lion eyes a gazelle, ready to pounce, sink its fangs in, spilling blood everywhere as it reveled in watching its victim fall.

Nothing was staged, though there were always rumors that someone helped him win, that it was simply impossible for him to take down his opponents so easily with just one punch to the jaw. You’d heard it all before, and you’d laughed every time. You knew who Logan was: a wild animal that couldn’t be tamed, thirsty for blood and victory—and maybe a few free shots of whiskey you managed to get him from the bar.

The place looked the same as always—smelled of cigarettes and aged whiskey, even the occasional hint of weed. But none of that could pull your attention away from the fight, from him.

There were nights were you had to make sure everything went as it should—no dirty moves, no corruption. Every corner of this dark, pretentious place was under your watchful eye. Besides, when you sometimes played as the timekeeper, you had the task of looking after him. And it’s not like it was a job you were paid to do—he just sought it out himself.

Before you got into all this fight business, you were just a normal woman working at a coffee shop in the city, taking orders left and right, spending your energy on a job that rarely compensated you fairly. But that’s just how things were... Or so you thought until you found this place: a basement of what used to be an apartment building, transformed into a run-down bar and the main entertainment hub for the slums. Cage fights seemed more interesting than a football match to these people.

At the start, you were hesitant about the idea, but you convinced yourself you’d enjoy it more and the pay was good.

When you first stepped into this place, your initial thought was that the floors were too sticky, filthy, and reeked of alcohol. But somehow, you got used to it, and the smell became a part of you—you could hardly notice it anymore, unlike those first few days you spent here.

Everything seemed monotonous at first; men fighting each other, trying to prove who had the bigger ego— maybe bigger dick.

You watched it all from a distance, serving drinks to drunken men who were just as thirsty for a fight, until everything changed.

He arrived.

Logan. The mysterious man nobody liked because everyone already had their favorite fighters, and when he showed up, everything went to hell. Literally.

Every time he stepped into that cage, he managed to knock out every single one of those idiots, leaving them with swollen eyes and dislocated jaws—some he even left unconscious.

Tonight was one of those many nights, where you lingered close and watched the fight, trying not to bite your lip every time, by pure luck and chance, one of his opponents managed to land a hit on his cheek. But they never had the upper hand—Logan always found a way to beat them, again and again.

Just as he always found a way to cage you inside his room after, keeping you to himself even though you tried to not get to involved, but you knew you were too far gone. You were too into him to care about the outcome, even worse when he made you enjoy it too much.

“Ah- Fuck”. You tremble on Logan’s lap, sweaty back resting on his broad chest while your hands hold the back of your thighs, keeping you open for him. He was the only one holding you up while he was knuckles deep inside your pulsating cunt. You tried not to bite too hard on your lip, but you already saw the way a clear sheet of slick coats down a single finger, and it has you clenching down harder, tighter.

“It’s just one finger, princess- you can take it”, he rasps, head leveled to your ear, while his other hand holds a glass of whiskey you managed to steal away for him; your hazy eyes looked around, noticing the small details your gaze always attached to when coming to his room: his leather jacket, his wife beater perched on the couch armrest, and the countless mags you left on the battered desk. But nothing was able to steal your attention for too long when the excitement from having him fingering you in his room had you curling your toes, along with the non-stopping motion of them.

“It’s so t-thick, I-I don’t think you’ll fit”, you babble out in broken words, referring to his dick. It’s been a few days since he’s been repeating the same cycle, eating you out then fingering you, preparing you to take his length— and even though you’ve had his dick in your mouth, he says is not the same.

It was your fault, really. You insisted you could take his fingers without him needing to eat you out, but you were already failing in the task. You felt your tummy churn in a line of zig zags as you sense him slowly sink another finger inside, leaving a burning trail behind. Your hand shot out to take his arm, curling around it to have something to ground yourself. “It f-feels weird”.

A breathy chortle leaves his lips, glass of whiskey lifting up, your gaze following the movement until it wasn’t in your line of sight anymore. His head goes back to his previous spot, stopping just a few inches from your ear, “I told ya, you wouldn’t be able to take them…”.

A frown etched on your features, sweaty brows knitting together at his words. Of course you could take them, he was just making fun of you because you weren’t thoroughly prepared like all those other times.

“I-I can take them”. You said, hand moving back to hold your leg, opening up even more for him. You could watch it in this position, and it made more slick gush out of your cunt, his covered finger kept pushing in and out slowly, patiently.

A tiny gasp leaves your lips when his index finger slides through your labia, scooping up more of your juices, teasing you. “You’re a big girl now? You think you can take it? Let’s see…”.

You hummed excitedly, your head moving up and down. You managed to get your ass a bit lower on his lap, your back sliding down just the right amount until it seemed you were going to sleep on his abdomen, chasing his fingers with your cunt.

You heard his low chuckle from behind, glass lifting up again to take a sip from his drink, “You’re so greedy, precious… but I’m holding back, just for you”.

You didn’t want that, you didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything. Every finger he wanted to give you you’d accept it happily, didn’t matter if it hurt at first— you’d take the pain.

“Don’t hold back, I’ll be okay”, you assured, looking back at him. His hazel eyes were glued to you, lust and excitement swirling around in the depths of them, lips glistening from the whiskey he was nursing, you wanted to kiss him. “Gimme a kiss”, you plead, lips forming a pout when he shakes his head.

“Be patient, I’m busy fucking your cunt now, let me focus, mhm?”. Logan arched one brow, looking at you expectantly.

“Alright”, you mumbled, disappointment laced in your voice at him denying your request. He’d always kiss you afterwards, but you hoped he’d changed that when he noticed you were struggling.

“Don’t be sad, pretty girl, you’ll get your reward soon”, he promises, not stopping for a moment the sweet and slow pacing of his fingers, smiling at the way your cunt clenched when you heard the nickname. Your walls were more clingy than they were in a daily basis, sticking against them like glue. You gasped when you feel his index finger teasing your entrance, “Pleaseplease, I can take one more…”.

Logan keeps his gaze fixed on yours, finally putting it in. You felt a delicious sting, one that managed to scratch that itch in your foggy brain. You squirmed on his lap, hips lifting up just the right amount to ease the small discomfort. A grunt left his throat, fingers slipping out of your dripping walls to spank at your cunt, followed by your whine at the sting, so different from the one his finger caused.

“I thought you could take it”.

His hand rested next to your cunt, fondling your inner thigh affectionately— but he did nothing else. Logan acted nonchalant, drinking from his glass as if he wasn’t finger fucking you just seconds ago. Your thighs were still wide open, arms growing weary from how long you’ve been holding them.

“Logan?”. you call once, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He ignored you, gaze fixed on the old TV perched on the coffee table feet away from you and the boring news channel he was ‘watching’.

He hummed, not looking your way. You frowned once more, but this it was not caused by the delicious pace of his fingers, but for his peculiar way of ignoring you.

You were there, laid open for him, perky nipples and sopping wet cunt waiting to get fucked- be it his fingers or dick. But he was ignoring you, holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back, you wanted his everything, one, two or four fingers— whatever he wanted to give you you’d accept it with open hands. But he didn’t want to hurt you, you knew the change in his demeanor the moment you lifted your hips, trying to ease the stinging pain, and though it was momentary, he stopped everything.

“Logan?”. you called once again, hand moving from your leg to hold his, trying to move him to your cunt so he can continue his ministrations, but he didn’t bulge. He held your thigh with more strength, slick covered fingers digging on your skin.

“If you want my fingers to fuck you, you’ve got to let me eat you out, if not then I can’t-”

“B-but I don’t want you to eat me out, you won’t fuck me with your dick if I’m too sore…”, you whined, lips pouting once more, watching his stoic face twitch just for a second and then a smirk finally appeared on his lips.

His fingers twitched too, caressing your outer labia with the tips— his other arm under your armpit, forearm glued to your ribs. You could see the condensation in the glass, drink almost finished, you were thirsty.

“Want some?”, he asked and you glanced back at him in thought, then nodding slowly. A grin spread across his mouth, pearly white teeth showing from between his pink lips. He moved the glass to drink from it, a disappointment feeling sinking deep into your chest when you noticed the drink was finished.

He noticed it in your features, the way you looked so disappointed thinking he was punishing you.

That’s why didn’t think he’d lower his head, lips attaching to your parted ones, liquid slipping to your mouth, a satisfied moan leaving your throat when the bitter liquid covered your tongue— mixed with his own saliva. It was utterly erotic to you, the way you shared everything, from his dog tags to his fluids.

All the time you were kissing, you felt his fingers move once more to your entrance, two of them breaching in at once— a gasp leaving your mouth the moment they bottomed out. Logan took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside, twirling it with your own, stroking the warm muscle. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, slipping down to your chin.

His fingers hid inside your cunt walls, initiating a slow pace just like before, brushing that spongy spot with them. Your hand curled around his arm once more, feeling the hot skin beneath your fingers. Your back was sweaty, his chest and abdomen hair sticking to your skin.

“You’ve been so good, letting me do what I want, always”. He praised, a string of saliva formed after your heated kiss, keeping you somehow together even after he leaned back to plant a kiss on your head.

His digits moved at a faster pace now, the squelching sound your pussy made provoked his bulge to grow, a tent appearing in his pants beneath your lower back. The pain was too far gone, now you could only feel the pleasure.

“I think you can take a third, uh? You’re a big girl after all”, he asked teasingly, you could only nod effusively, pushing your hips further into his hand. As you still make a cute attempt at rocking your hips against his lap. He slowly inserts another thick finger inside. tightening around each one, you whine before your entire body jitters.

Logan chuckles deeply against your ear, feeling the claws of your nails seep into the flesh of his arm. "So three is the limit. I see…" and within three seconds, his digits pull out of your cunt. A slimey string of your wetness sticks against his fingers. as he looks down with an utmost hungry gaze, he brings his fingers up to his mouth before sniffing them.

He pops the three of them inside his mouth, his tongue devours your honeyed slick, brows furrowing in arousal before he takes them out, pressing them to your own lips. “C’mon pretty girl, taste yourself”.

Your lips happily part, and he puts two fingers inside, groaning when he noticed you greedily suck on them— thinking it was his dick you were sucking, not his fingers.

With a groan he takes them out, glass forgotten on the couch armrest and lifts you up, turning you around so you’re lying face down on his chest, dog tags digging into your cheek.

He takes the back of your neck and kisses you, a moan leaving your throat the moment your saliva mingling together. His slick covered fingers parted your ass cheek, scooping up more of your slick before putting his fingers back inside, fucking you faster, rougher.

Your head hid in the crook of his neck, arms enveloping his broad back tightly, as if it was the only thing that could keep your feet on the ground.

“We need to stretch it out, get it ready to take my dick, don’t wanna hurt this little girl”, he speaks, voice dripping with lust and it made heat pool beneath your cheeks.

“Logan? I-I don’t want you to hold back…”, you mumble, ass lifting higher, knees digging in the battered couch. “Want you to be rough, I- if that’s what you want…” your voice lowered with each word, shame finally settling in your brain.

With a final thrust of his fingers, he pulled them out, taking your waist and positioning you above the couch, the leather dampening with your sweet and juices.

His hands gripped your thighs, forcing them open once again after you closed them in shame, “Don’t hide from me”.

Your arms hugged your chest, trying to cover your breasts from his sight, you were growing shy on him and he didn’t like that. Not even a bit.

“Stop that”, he said, tugging your hands off your chest, pinning them above your head. Your eyes avoided his, not wanting to meet his gaze, “Look at me”. He demanded, meaty thighs accommodating between yours, preventing you from closing them.

You look at him after a few seconds from looking at the humidity spot in the wall, “Need ya to tell me if it’s hurts, if you want to stop”.

Your head shakes up and down, “Okay”.

He nods in agreement and releases your hands, trailing his own down your body, stopping on your breasts, twirling the nipples between his index and forefinger, fondling the soft mounds in his much bigger hands. Then continued on his way, touching your ribs, waist and halting on your hip bone, thumb caressing the bone protruding from the skin.

He still had his jeans on, a wet spot staining them on the front, your juices. It made your pussy clench around nothing, skin heating up once again.

His hands hastily pulled his belt off, zipping his pants down, lowering them just the right amount to take his cock out through the front.

A gasp left your lips, mouth hanging open at the sight of his hard shaft, the angry tip leaked precum, the pearly white droplets making your mouth water. You’ve had him in your mouth before, you’ve tasted his skin and cum, the saltiness of his skin equals the one from his fluid and it makes your tongue tingle with anticipation. He watches the look you give him, the need for it you showed but he quickly denied you.

“Not tonight babe, I’m gonna fuck you now and nothing’s gonna stop me”.

Logan fisted it in his palm, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your pussy, head rubbing up and down on it, covering it in your slick, wetting it to perfection.

He swirled it around your clit, covering it in his cum, mixing his fluids with your own. Finally, his angry tip hooked on your entrance, making his way until you felt it was completely in.

It was a tight fit, your cunt felt like a big pole tried to enter you, but it was just the tip.

“Relax, you’re doing it good”, Logan mumbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. You tried to relax, to listen to him and loosen up a bit but the pressure was too much— you didn’t felt that way with his fingers.

“It’s not going to fit”, you repeat the same words from the start, thinking how dumb it was of yourself to think you could take that huge thing in between your legs. You tried to move back, forearms planted on the couch wanting to get away from his dick, but he stopped you.

“You told me to not hold back, and you’re doing the opposite thing… be good yeah? I really wanna fuck you”, he admitted, halting your movements.

You were going to try, just for him.

You both stayed still for a moment, he rejoiced in the way your spongy walls clenched around his hard shaft, and the way your chest heaved up and down, making your breasts jiggle slightly.

He tried not to cum, really tried. And he also tried not go all the way inside you, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“I’m gonna put it all in, yeah?”.

He finally asked and you could only nod, watching and feeling the way his dick leisurely entered. After a few seconds of trying, he finally bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass. It was a tight fit, of course, the stinging feeling from before was present too, but it was even worse than his fingers.

A small cry left your lips, eyes glassy and teeth biting down on your lips. Logan’s eyes softened, hand moving from your thighs to rest on your cheek, wiping the tear off with the pad of his digit. “Shh, it’ll be alright”. He assured.

He waited a few minutes, watching the way a few tears slid down your cheeks, wiping them off like before and whispering sweet things to you, to soothe you.

Logan realized you were ready the moment you started to squirm, tears stopping and heat returning to your cheeks, traveling down to your neck and chest.

“I’m gonna move now, is that okay?”, he asked, waiting for a verbal confirmation that everything was alright.

“Yeah, ‘m okay”.

When he heard those words, he finally let himself move. In and out, a steady and slow pace at first, then he started to fuck you harder. His dick hit your cervix, head stroking your vulva with greediness.

You knew he was holding back, you felt it. It didn’t hurt anymore, at least for now, but he was still holding back— you noticed it in his features, his frown and tight jaw gave him away. You wanted him to be him, to do what he wanted with your body. You wanted him to act the same way he acts in the cage.

You elevated a bit from your spot, reaching to his cheek with your hand, he was so tall you didn’t touch it at first, but he hunched over so you could.

“I-I told you to not hold b-back”, a whimper left your mouth when he hit that spot, a euphoric sensation spreading through your lower abdomen and legs. He noticed it, and he began to thrust faster.

He gripped the leg dangling from the side of the couch and made it lift to your chest, it felt completely different from moments before. You felt his dick hitting deeper, and you didn’t know if it was your imagination that made you sense the veins in his dick rubbing against your walls.

You looked down, trying to watch the way he slipped in and out of you, you only managed to catch a small glance, but it was the most erotic scene you’ve witnessed. Nothing you’ve ever done compares to this, not even when you’d finger yourself in front of the wall mirror at your apartment.

“Fuuck”, he groaned, hips snapping rapidly, the smacking sound being the only thing you heard in the small, deteriorated room, along with his grunts and your moans, that got higher and higher every time he bottomed out. “Are you good?”.

You’re too fucked dumb to reply, and Logan’s pace grows more and more erotic. The couch creaks again and again, your head spinning. You could sort of feel the rough fabric of his halfway pulled down jeans against your ass each time he hits himself against you,

He smiles and keeps the pace, hand traveling down to rub on your clit gently, he didn’t want to overstimulate you— for now.

“Yes yes there”, you chant, your smaller hand holding his wrist, tugging it forward to press harder on your bundle of nerves.

And without further notice, the thread snaps. Your tummy churns and your legs spread even wider, if that was even possible, your body trembles as it contracts and gives Logan everything you have left to offer. You squeeze his dick, moaning wildly as his pace never falters, urging you to stay in the state of euphoria a bit longer.

Then you feel it too, his cum leaking from inside your cunt dripping down onto the couch, seeing the way his dick slips out from you and glistens with your mixed arousal. His eyes fixed on his cum gushing out from your pussy, doing his best to hold back.

You watched it too, and It made your pussy clench again, he obviously noticed it but he just chuckled and shook his head, putting a stray hair behind your ear.

“Easy there, we just fucked, we’ve got plenty of time to do it again”.

Masterlist

The Tortured Poets Department

Down Bad - Wolverine x You

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier x You

Florida!!! - Aaron Hotchner x You

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys - Billy Butcher x You

Fortnight - Din Djarin x You

See TTPD homepage for a brief synopsis and word count of each.

Kinktober 2024

See kinktober masterlist for descriptions and fandoms!

AO3

The Tortured Poets Department

Multi-fandom fic based on the TTPD album!! I’ll add tags as I go and I’ll add a little description for each one under the link here ❤️

Down Bad

Wolverine x You

Short one shot, smut

You meet a mysterious man called Logan in a bar, and end up having some fun…

1,255 words

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr x You

Longer one shot, smut and a little fluff, threesome

After joining the First Class of Professor X’s school with your brother Hank, you realised you have a connection with two of the mutants there, and that they might also have a connection to each other…

6,258 words

Florida!!!

Aaron Hotchner x You

Longer one shot, smut, a little fluff, and a little angst

After a tough case in Tallahassee, a storm blows in and the jet is grounded, so you find comfort in the arms of someone unexpected.

4,203 words

My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys

Billy Butcher

Short one shot, smut

Your occasional fling sees you in a dress you had put on to tease him, and he reminds you who you belong to.

1,385 words

Fortnight

Mando/Din Djarin

Longer one shot, smut

After being employed by Greef to transport you back to your home planet, Mando comes back from one of his bounty hunts beaten and bloody, and you’re forced to get closer than you expected to the man made from metal.

5,539 words