Invisible String — the three times you almost met him and the one time you did
How You Get The Girl — the five times Tech tried to ask you out and the one time he did. Wanting to express his feelings for you and to discover if you return said feelings, Tech conducts a series of experiments to determine your feelings for him, documenting it all in a scientific report.
Crosshair
The Stakeout *— Sent to gather information on a potential separatist spy, you’re partnered with Crosshair to watch your target from above. Pairing you with Crosshair made sense at first, but after spending two weeks in a small room with him, you’re just about ready to snap
The bad batch
Heat Waves — prompts: water gun fight & “it’s not what you think”
The 501st 💙
Fives
Lucky Number Five — the number five has always seemed to follow you around. One day, it all makes sense why
The 104th 🩶
Wolffe
I’ll Take Care Of You — working as a bartender at 79s, you watch as the men of 104th get into drunk shenanigans while their poor commander tries to keep them out of trouble
This morning I showed up to work and my boss was like "congratulations :))" and I was kinda confused so asked her on what and she said "your name, I heard about it on the radio"
So far I have counted two online articles and apparently the radio is also talking about my name change so I'll keep you guys updated when I'm on national tv or something
“If I had time travel I’d kill Hitler” “If I had time travel I’d stop my favourite politician getting assassinated” you’re all thinking way too small. If I had time travel I’d stop Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin from dying on the moon due to Soviet sabotage, kicking off the Great Nuclear War and devastating half of the planet.
This is such a classic trainwreck post that has the vibes of a 2014 screenshot posted to Pinterest and then the last addition is just last Tuesday I can’t even
summary: You decide to blindfold yourself for the day to learn what the world is like for Matt.
word count: 2.9k+
pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader
notes: this was meant to just be a short, fluffy thing but somehow like half of it is smut? anyways, this is my first time writing smut for matt, so feedback is appreciated!
warnings/tags: blindfold, fluff, smut (while blindfolded), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie
“Sweetheart.” Matt said, as he stepped into the apartment. He could hear you somewhere in the kitchen, walking slowly and holding onto the wall.
You froze in place. “Matt? You're home early.”
He tilted his head slightly, brow furrowing. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah," you said quickly. "I'm fine."
He smiled a little, setting his cane down by the door. “Then why’s your heartbeat going crazy?”
You sighed softly, turning toward the sound of his voice. “Okay, don’t laugh.”
He took a cautious step closer, grin widening. “Can’t promise that. What’s going on?”
“I... decided to spend today experiencing things your way,” you confessed, fingertips gripping the counter. “So I blindfolded myself.”
Matt chuckled softly, warmth spreading across his expression. “Really? All day?”
“Since you left this morning.” You shrugged lightly, embarrassed. “Figured it would help me understand you a little better. But I'm starting to regret it—I ran into the coffee table twice already.”
He crossed the distance slowly, footsteps gentle, stopping just a breath away from you. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Good unbelievable, or weird unbelievable?”
Matt reached out, gently finding your hands. “Good unbelievable.” His voice softened. “You're sweet.”
You smiled, relieved. “So, you’re not mad or anything?”
“Why would I be mad?” He laughed lightly, squeezing your fingers. “But you know you could’ve told me first. I’d have given you some tips.”
“Maybe I wanted to surprise you.”
“Consider me surprised,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along your palm. “Do you want some help?”
You hesitated, chewing your lip thoughtfully. “Just... show me how you do it. How do you walk around here without knocking everything over?”
“It’s mostly memory,” he admitted gently. “And paying attention.”
You smiled playfully. “You sure it’s not your echolocation?”
“Echo—” Matt chuckled, “I don’t have echolocation.”
You tilted your head. “Then what do you call using your enhanced hearing to guide you?”
"Listening carefully," Matt said simply, lips curling into an amused smile. "Echolocation makes me sound like a dolphin."
You laughed softly, squeezing his hands. "Alright then, Daredevil the dolphin."
He groaned, leaning closer to rest his forehead against yours. "Please don't let Foggy hear you say that. I'll never live it down."
"I make no promises," you teased, smiling warmly at his closeness. "So, show me how Daredevil—I mean Matt—listens carefully?"
Matt chuckled, gently sliding an arm around your waist and guiding you away from the counter. "First, relax. You're tense, and it's making everything harder."
"I'm tense because I've been tripping over everything all day," you complained lightly.
"Trust me," Matt murmured, voice soothing. "Close your eyes under that blindfold."
"They already are."
"Good. Now listen." He held you still in the center of the room, his thumb rubbing comforting circles at your side. "Notice the sounds around you. What do you hear?"
You tilted your head slightly, focusing carefully. "I hear... traffic outside. The hum of the refrigerator. And your breathing."
He smiled softly. "Good. Now, deeper. Listen beyond the obvious noises. The way sound reflects off objects, how it changes around furniture or walls."
You breathed deeply, brows knitting together as you concentrated. "How can you possibly hear all that?"
"Practice," Matt admitted quietly. "And necessity."
"It's amazing," you whispered softly. "You're amazing."
He chuckled again, shaking his head. "It's just a skill."
"Don't downplay it," you said gently, leaning into his chest. "I can't even manage one day like this."
Matt pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, holding you carefully. "I appreciate that you're trying."
"Just trying to understand you better."
He smiled into your hair. "You already understand me better than most."
You grinned, lifting your face slightly toward his voice. "Matt?"
"Hm?"
"Am I facing you right now, or am I about to kiss your chin by mistake?"
He laughed softly, cupping your cheek and gently angling your face upward. "Now you are."
"Good," you whispered, brushing your lips softly against his. "This I can get used to."
Matt's smile warmed, and he leaned in again, his voice a playful whisper. "Me too."
You scrunched your nose in thought. “Think I can make dinner like this?”
Matt laughed softly, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”
You pouted playfully. “You don’t trust me?”
“I trust you,” he assured gently, fingertips brushing against your waist. “But I’d prefer if you didn’t accidentally set the kitchen on fire.”
“You cook blind every day,” you argued lightly. “If you can do it, I can too.”
Matt hummed thoughtfully. “True. But I’ve had years of practice and enhanced senses. You’ve been at it for...” he paused, smiling teasingly, “less than a day.”
“Fair point,” you conceded, smiling. “Alright, what if you help me?”
“I can do that,” Matt agreed. He gently guided you toward the counter, keeping his voice calm. “Step forward, carefully. Counter’s right here.”
You reached out slowly, fingertips brushing cool marble. “Okay, got it. What next?”
“What do you want to cook?”
You tilted your head, thinking. “Something easy. Pasta?”
Matt smiled warmly. “Perfect choice. Pot’s in the cabinet beneath you.”
You bent slowly, hands reaching hesitantly. “Left or right?”
“Left,” Matt instructed calmly. “Careful though, there’s another pot stacked inside.”
You grinned triumphantly as your fingers closed around a handle. “Found it!”
“Good,” he said gently. “Fill it about halfway with water. The sink’s—”
“I know where the sink is, Matthew,” you teased.
He chuckled softly. “Just making sure.”
Carefully, you moved toward the sink, guided by memory and touch. “How am I doing?”
“You’re a natural,” Matt praised, voice filled with gentle amusement.
You smiled proudly, turning on the water and filling the pot halfway. “Okay, next?”
“Stove,” he prompted gently. “Two steps to your right.”
You shuffled sideways, cautiously. “How do I know which burner to use?”
Matt moved closer behind you, his chest lightly brushing your back as he guided your hand. “This one,” he murmured, gently placing your hand over the correct dial.
You smiled softly. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” His voice softened affectionately. “Now, turn it halfway.”
You obeyed carefully, listening to the quiet clicking and hiss of gas. “Done.”
“Perfect,” Matt encouraged. He reached around, taking your hand in his and carefully guiding the pot to the burner.
“How do you always make this look so easy?” you muttered, shaking your head.
Matt laughed softly near your ear. “Years of frustration and burns, honestly.”
You sighed dramatically. “Great, something to look forward to.”
He chuckled gently, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’re doing fine. Better than I did my first time.”
You leaned back slightly, smiling at the feel of his warmth behind you. “Really?”
He nodded, lips curving softly. “I spilled boiling water everywhere. Foggy banned me from the kitchen for a week.”
You laughed, relaxing into his hold. “At least I haven’t done that yet.”
“Keyword being yet,” Matt teased.
“Hey!” you protested, elbowing him lightly.
He laughed warmly, holding you closer. “Alright, focus. The pasta is on your left, on the counter.”
You reached carefully, fingers finding the familiar box. “How much?”
“Half the box should be fine,” Matt instructed gently. “The water’s not boiling yet, though. You’ll hear it bubble when it’s ready.”
You leaned your head back against his shoulder, listening. “Do you always cook by sound?”
Matt hummed thoughtfully. “Mostly. Sound, touch, and smell.”
You smiled softly. “Teach me.”
“Okay.” Matt took your hand gently, guiding your palm toward the steam just starting to rise from the pot. “Feel the heat?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
“Listen carefully, the bubbles will start softly. Then louder.”
You tilted your head, listening intently. Gradually, the faint whisper of bubbles grew clearer. “I hear it.”
Matt smiled warmly, proud. “Good. You’re learning fast.”
“I have a good teacher,” you whispered playfully.
Matt chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. You jerked slightly at the contact, covering your mouth to hide a giggle.
He paused, grinning curiously. “Did I scare you?”
“No,” you muttered quickly, cheeks warming. “Well… I knew you were moving, I just didn’t know where you were moving.”
He hummed, clearly amused. “Still haven’t quite mastered that hearing thing yet, have you?”
“You mean my echolocation skills?” you teased gently, leaning back against him again.
Matt groaned quietly, forehead briefly pressing against your shoulder. “Please don’t call it that.”
“But it fits,” you said innocently. “And it’s adorable.”
“It's ridiculous,” he protested, chuckling softly as his hands settled comfortably at your waist.
You smiled, relaxing further. After a few moments, you heard the soft click of the stove turning off. You tilted your head in confusion. “Why’d you turn the burner off?”
Matt didn't respond immediately. Instead, you felt his hands shift, suddenly lifting you up effortlessly.
You yelped, arms quickly wrapping around his neck. “Matt! What are you doing?”
He laughed warmly, carrying you confidently through the apartment. “I just realized something.”
“What?” you asked suspiciously, gripping him tighter. “That kidnapping is easier when the victim is blindfolded?”
Matt chuckled, amusement clear in his tone. “No. That having you blindfolded could actually be a lot more fun than cooking.”
Your cheeks flushed deeper. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” he whispered playfully, kicking the bedroom door open gently with his foot. “Oh.”
You laughed softly, your fingers gently sliding into his hair. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmured as he gently placed you down onto the bed, “you seem to like it.”
Smiling, you reached blindly for him, fingertips grazing his cheek. “Maybe just a little.”
Matt's breath hitched like you’d caught him off guard. Then you felt it—his smile, warm against your palm.
"Only a little?" he murmured, voice dipping low as he leaned into your touch. "I’ll have to change that."
You started to say something snarky, but his hands were already sliding down your sides, steady, careful. His fingers found your hips, squeezing gently. He kissed you again—soft, slow, lips dragging over yours until your breath caught.
Then he dropped lower.
You could feel him shift, the brush of his nose at your throat, the warmth of his mouth trailing down your sternum, kissing between your breasts, slow and unhurried. Your fingers hovered in midair, unsure what to grab onto.
"Matt?"
He didn’t answer. His breath skimmed lower, down your belly, and your breath hitched as he nosed at your waistband. Then he laughed—quiet and low.
"Relax," he said, his voice rough silk. "You look nervous."
"I can’t see you. I don’t know what you’re—"
Your words cut off in a sharp breath as he kissed just below your navel, slow and maddening. Then lower.
"That’s kind of the point, sweetheart."
You flinched when your waistband slid down. His hands were back, working slow, easing your pants down over your hips. You were still reaching out uselessly when he tugged them off completely, and then—silence.
"Matt?"
Nothing but his breath, hot against your thigh.
You tensed. "What are you—"
Then his mouth was on you.
A gasp ripped out of you, head tipping back against the pillows, hands clutching the sheets as his tongue flicked slow, deliberate. You bucked involuntarily and felt a hand on your stomach, grounding you.
"Jesus—Matt—"
He didn’t stop. Just a slow, relentless rhythm, his mouth moving like he could hear every twitch of your body, every gasp, every choked sound.
You whimpered, thighs twitching. "Fuck, I can’t—I don’t know what you’re—"
"Good," he said against you, voice muffled, smug. "Don’t think. Just feel."
You whined, fingers tangling in the sheets tighter, blindfold still in place, the lack of sight making every touch sharper, hotter. You could hear everything—the wet sounds of his tongue, his soft hums against your skin, your own breathless cries.
He licked up slow, then sucked—sharp, sudden.
"Ah—fuck!" You arched, breath stuttering. "Matt, oh my god."
"Mm," he hummed, tongue flicking cruel and perfect. "You sound so good like this."
You were unraveling, hips rolling helplessly against his mouth. He held you steady with an arm slung over your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
"I—I can’t—"
"You can," he whispered, the tip of his tongue circling you slow. "C’mon, sweetheart. Let go for me."
One more flick, and the world snapped.
Your whole body jerked, heat crashing through you like a wave breaking over raw nerves. A cry spilled from your mouth before you could muffle it, your thighs shaking, muscles tight. You felt the way he kept licking through it, unrelenting, dragging it out until you were gasping his name again and again.
Finally, finally, he pulled away. You could hear him breathing—steady, controlled. The mattress shifted as he crawled back up.
He kissed your cheek, your jaw, finally brushing his lips against your ear.
"Still think you only like me a little?"
You turned your head toward his voice, smiling weakly. "Okay... maybe more than a little."
His hand slid under the blindfold, thumb brushing your cheek.
"Then let me keep proving it."
You bit your lip. "Is that an offer or a threat?"
He laughed, mouth brushing yours. "Yes."
You were smiling, about to fire back with something snarky, when he moved again. Not a warning. Just his hands on your thighs, nudging them apart, slow and purposeful.
"Wait, what are you—"
"Shh," he whispered, the word soft against your lips. His body slid lower, fingers trailing fire down your sides, slow enough to make your breath hitch.
You reached out blindly, fingers brushing his shoulders, his chest, trying to figure out where the hell he was going next.
Matt's chuckle was low and maddening. "You're really not used to not knowing, huh?"
"No," you muttered, squirming under his touch. "I don’t like surprises."
"You will."
And then he was shifting up again, the heat of his body over yours, chest brushing your shirt where it was still bunched above your breasts. His hand slid under your thigh, lifting, guiding it up around his waist, his other hand braced near your head.
You could feel him now. Thick and hot, dragging against your thigh, teasing where you were still soaked from his mouth.
"Matt..."
He leaned down, lips grazing your jaw. "Still nervous?"
"Only because I can't fucking see what you're about to do," you hissed, hands fisting in the sheets.
He laughed softly, the sound warm and unfairly confident. "Then I'll make it easy. I'm gonna fuck you now."
Your breath caught hard, head tipping back into the pillow.
"Say yes," he murmured, mouth at your neck now, voice rougher. "Say it."
"Yes," you breathed. "Fuck—yes."
You barely got the last syllable out before he was pushing in, slow but steady. Your mouth dropped open with a gasp, the stretch burning and perfect.
"F-fuck—Matt—"
He groaned into your neck, the sound guttural. "God, you're tight."
You clung to his shoulders, digging your nails in as he sank deeper, inch by inch, until his hips were flush with yours and you couldn't breathe around the fullness.
"You okay?" he whispered, voice tight with restraint.
"Yeah," you managed, nodding, biting your lip. "Just—move. Please."
Matt pulled back, slow at first, then thrust back in with a sharp snap of his hips that made you cry out.
"Ah—fuck!"
He grunted, thrusting again, a steady rhythm that made the bed creak. You were so hyperaware, every sound amplified under the blindfold. The slap of skin, the ragged edge of his breath, the wet drag of your body clenching around him.
"You hear that?" he growled, fucking into you harder. "That's how wet you are."
You whimpered, fingers scrambling to find something to hold. He caught your wrists, pinning them above your head, fucking you deeper, harder, each thrust angled like he knew exactly what would ruin you.
"You're fucking trembling," he rasped.
"Because I can't see anything—"
"Exactly," he growled. "You can't brace for it. Can't anticipate. Just feel."
You sobbed out a moan, back arching, thighs shaking around his hips. "Matt, fuck—oh my god—"
His mouth was back on your jaw, your throat, kissing, biting. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let me hear you."
You did. Every snap of his hips forced another sound out of you. Moans, gasps, whimpers that spilled uncontrolled. You could feel yourself unraveling again, tighter, hotter than before.
"You gonna come for me again?"
You nodded frantically, barely able to speak. "Yes—yes, please, I'm—fuck, I'm close."
He let go of your wrists, hand sliding between you. Two fingers found your clit, circling, rubbing just right, and that was it.
You broke.
"Ahh—fuck! M-Matt!" You cried out loud, body locking up as the orgasm tore through you like a live wire, your hips jerking, thighs squeezing around him.
He groaned hard, breath catching as you clenched around him. "Jesus, you feel so good when you come."
You were still shuddering, barely conscious of anything but him still thrusting through the aftershocks.
"Gonna fill you up," he muttered, the pace faltering. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"
You barely managed to whimper a "yes" before he buried himself deep, hips grinding against you as he came, groaning low in your ear.
Neither of you moved for a long moment. You were still gasping, blindfold damp, your fingers twitching.
Matt finally shifted, brushing his nose along your cheek. "Still don’t like surprises?"
You let out a shaky laugh. "I might be warming up to them."
His smile was against your mouth. "Told you."
the title was meant to insinuate "butterflies in my stomach." anyways, weird fun fact about me, i'm terrified of butterflies. don't ask why bc i don't know i just am, lol
chapter summary: You're Scott's younger sister and for months you've been secretly dating Logan. How much longer can you and him keep the secret?
word count: 10.9k+ (19.3k+ total)
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: don't ask how or why this is so long, it was meant to be be less than 10k words but it just kept going. i was having a lot of fun writing this, and if people want to see a continuation or some other part of the story with these two, don't be afraid to ask! for now, enjoy cause there are like 3 smut scenes
the notes and the tags are the same as part 1! this is the second part!
warnings/tags: smut, unprotected piv, slight exhibitionism, slight pain kink, creampie, age gap (that's obvi), oral (f!receiving), slight praise kink, fingering, secret relationship, jealously, some possessiveness, peter maximoff being a little shit, fluff, slight angst
❀ part 1 ❀
Your shirt was tossed to the floor, your skirt pushed above your waist, and Logan was currently kissing his way down your chest, rough hands gripping your thighs, his stubble scratching against sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.
But every so often, his eyes flicked to the side.
At first, you ignored it, too caught up in the heat of his mouth, the way his fingers kneaded into your skin. But when he stopped—lips hovering just above your stomach, brow furrowed—you huffed out a breath.
“Why do you keep looking over there?”
Logan glanced up at you, then back to the side, exhaling sharply. “…That fuckin’ teddy bear keeps lookin’ at me.”
You blinked before glancing toward your bed—where the massive stuffed bear from the carnival sat propped against your pillows, its black button eyes staring blankly into the room.
You snorted. “Pickles isn’t looking at you.”
Logan pulled back slightly, expression scrunching in absolute bewilderment. “The hell did you just call it?”
You grinned. “Pickles.”
His face was priceless. “You named the goddamn bear Pickles?”
“Yep.”
He shook his head, lips twitching in amusement. “Why the hell would you name a teddy bear that?”
“Because,” you said, smirking, “he’s named after the fried pickles we got after you won him for me.”
Logan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus. That’s terrible.”
“You love it.”
“I really don’t.”
You laughed, but before you could tease him further, Logan suddenly sat up and reached over, grabbing the bear by its soft, oversized head.
Without another word, he turned it around so its face was pressed into the pillow, its back to both of you.
“There.” Logan exhaled, satisfied. “Didn’t want him seein’ what I was gonna do to you.”
You burst out laughing, but it was cut short when Logan pounced, his mouth crashing back against yours, his hands slipping under your skirt with zero hesitation.
Pickles had seen enough. And Logan had work to do.
He pushed a thick finger into you, slow, deliberate. Your head fell back against the mattress, eyes fluttering shut as he moved—one finger, then two, curling just right, dragging moans from your lips with every precise stroke. His calloused palm pressed firm against your aching core, dragging a friction that had your breath stuttering.
"Fuck," you gasped, hips shifting instinctively.
Logan huffed a rough chuckle, his lips ghosting along the inside of your thigh. "That’s it," he murmured, voice low, thick with satisfaction. "Knew you’d be this fuckin’ needy."
Your fingers twisted into the sheets, knuckles white as he set a slow, torturous rhythm, two thick fingers stretching you, filling you. Your legs trembled, thighs twitching with every precise curl.
"Logan," you breathed, half a plea, half a warning.
He hummed against your skin, tongue flicking over your hipbone. "What, sweetheart? S’too much?"
You shook your head, chest rising and falling in ragged motions. "No—just—just stop teasing."
Logan grinned against your stomach, lips rough from his stubble. "You think I’m teasin’?"
And then he pressed in deeper, his thumb brushing over your clit at the same time, sending a sharp jolt through you. Your back arched, a choked moan slipping from your lips.
"That’s what I thought," he said, voice smug, rough.
His fingers worked you over with ruthless precision, stroking that spot inside you that had your toes curling, your body writhing against the mattress. Every slow press, every drag of his thumb over your clit wound you tighter, hotter, until you were gripping his wrist, eyes fluttering.
"You gonna come for me?" Logan murmured, breath hot against your skin.
You clenched around his fingers in response, earning a low, pleased growl from him. He didn’t let up, didn’t stop, watching with dark, hungry eyes as you unraveled beneath him.
And when the tension finally snapped, your whole body tensed—then shattered, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your cry filled the room, and Logan didn’t stop until you were trembling, until every aftershock had been wrung from you.
Only then did he pull his fingers from you, slow, deliberate, watching as your body shivered from the loss. His gaze met yours, heated, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.
You barely had time to catch your breath before he was on you again, his mouth crashing against yours, stealing every word, every thought.
His mouth was all heat and hunger, claiming yours in a way that left no room for thought—just sensation. His stubble scraped against your skin, rough and real, and the taste of you was still on his tongue, mingling with the whiskey he’d had earlier. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you feel owned.
But you weren’t about to let him have all the control.
With a sharp push, you shifted your weight, rolling him onto his back. He grunted in surprise, his grip tightening instinctively before he let you take the lead, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked up at you.
"Bossy tonight, huh?" His voice was low, rough with amusement, but his eyes—dark, hungry—told a different story.
"You don’t mind," you shot back, settling yourself over him, your thighs bracketing his waist.
His smirk widened, hands running up your thighs, thumbs brushing over the sensitive skin there. "Hell no, sweetheart. Knock yourself out."
Your hands found his chest, tracing the solid lines of muscle, the ridges of old scars. Logan was all hard edges, rough hands, and sharp words, but right now, beneath you, there was something else—a quiet patience, a slow-burning restraint that only made you want to push him further.
You shifted, rolling your hips over the hard line of his jeans, feeling the heat of him through the fabric. Logan let out a sharp breath, fingers tightening on your thighs.
"Fuck," he muttered, his head tipping back slightly against the pillows. "You keep doin' that, I ain't gonna be responsible for what happens next."
You grinned, leaning down so your lips barely brushed his. "That a threat or a promise?"
His hands slid up, palms rough against your waist as he pulled you down the rest of the way, closing the distance between you with a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and heat. His hands wandered, slipping beneath your bra, fingers teasing over sensitive skin, thumbs rolling over your nipples in a way that had you arching into him, your breath catching.
"You gonna take this off, or you want me to rip it?" Logan murmured against your lips, voice low, teasing.
You huffed a laugh. "Don’t you dare. I like this one."
"Fine," he said, but he still had that damn smirk on his face as he reached behind you, undoing the clasp in one smooth motion. The second the straps slipped down your arms, Logan's hands were on you, rough and greedy, palming your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples just to watch you shiver.
"Perfect," he muttered, his voice thick, almost reverent.
You rolled your hips again, dragging a groan from him, and the sound sent heat pooling low in your stomach. You could feel him, hard and thick beneath you, the friction between you just enough to tease, not nearly enough to satisfy.
Your hands trailed down his stomach to the waistband of his jeans. You slowly unbuckled his belt before tossing it to the side.
Then, your fingers worked the button of his jeans open, dragging the zipper down with deliberate slowness, teasing. Logan’s breath hitched, his hands gripping your hips just a little tighter, thumbs pressing into your skin.
"You’re playin’ with fire, doll," he muttered, voice thick, rough with impatience.
"Good," you shot back, fingers slipping beneath the waistband, pushing the denim down over his hips.
Logan lifted just enough to help you shove them lower, his cock springing free, thick and heavy against his stomach. Heat coiled in your belly at the sight of him—flushed, hard, already leaking at the tip.
"Fuck," you breathed, running a teasing finger along his length, just enough to watch his jaw tighten. "You’re already this worked up?"
Logan let out a low growl, hands flexing on your thighs. "You been grindin’ on me for ten fuckin’ minutes, what do you think?"
You smirked, shifting so you were straddling him fully, your bare core brushing against the head of his cock, dragging a sharp hiss from his lips.
"Then quit talking," you murmured, reaching between you to guide him to your entrance.
Logan’s breath was ragged as you sank down onto him, slow, deliberate, stretching around the thick length of him. He was big—he always was—but the burn was just right, just enough to make you shudder as he filled you, inch by inch.
"Christ," Logan rasped, his head tipping back against the pillow, fingers digging into your hips. "Tight as fuck—"
You exhaled a shaky breath, adjusting, rolling your hips experimentally. The stretch, the fullness—it sent sparks dancing up your spine, heat pooling low.
Logan groaned, eyes snapping back to you, dark, hungry. "Move, sweetheart."
You did. Slow at first, grinding your hips in slow, deliberate circles, feeling every inch of him drag inside you, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair at the base of his cock. Logan's grip on your waist tightened, like he was fighting the urge to just flip you over and take control, but you weren’t about to let him.
Your hands planted against his chest for leverage as you lifted yourself up, only to sink back down, setting a rhythm that had both of you panting.
"Fuck, that’s it," Logan groaned, his fingers trailing up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades, keeping you close. "You ride me so fuckin’ good, doll."
You leaned down, biting at his lower lip. "You like watching me fuck myself on your cock?"
His response was a guttural growl, his hips bucking up hard enough to make you gasp.
Your pace quickened, riding him harder, chasing the pleasure curling in your belly. Every drag of his cock inside you hit deep, the friction perfect, the angle just right. Logan was watching you, his eyes locked onto your face, drinking in every moan, every gasp.
"Touch yourself," he rasped, voice wrecked.
Your breath caught, but you obeyed, fingers slipping between your bodies to circle your clit. The added stimulation made you whimper, your thighs trembling as you rode him faster, harder.
Logan was unraveling beneath you, his muscles taut, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises.
"You gonna come for me?" His voice was strained, hoarse. "Come all over my cock, sweetheart?"
The tension snapped. Your orgasm slammed into you, stealing your breath, your whole body shaking as pleasure tore through you. Your walls clenched around him, dragging a curse from Logan as he thrust up into you, chasing his own release.
A few more erratic thrusts, and he was gone—his hips jerking, a growl tearing from his throat as he spilled deep inside you, fingers flexing against your waist, holding you down as he rode out every last pulse.
Silence hung between you, both of you catching your breath, bodies still tangled.
Finally, Logan exhaled a low, satisfied chuckle. "Pickles better not be lookin’ right now," Logan muttered, still breathless, his hands running idly over your thighs.
You let out a weak laugh, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as your body still hummed with the aftershocks. “I don’t think he’s judging you.”
Logan scoffed, his fingers trailing lazily up your spine. “He better not be. Ain’t gonna have some stuffed bear watchin’ while I wreck you.”
You groaned, shoving at his chest. “Can you not?”
Logan chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you in place. “What? You embarrassed now, sweetheart?”
You huffed, rolling off him and onto your back, still catching your breath. “No, I just think it’s weird you’re this bothered by a stuffed animal.”
Logan turned his head, glaring at the bear like it had personally offended him. “He’s just… there. Starin’.”
You threw an arm over your face, shaking with silent laughter. “Oh my God, you’re impossible.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, a soft thump.
You peeked out from under your arm just in time to see Pickles on the floor, face down, having been very unceremoniously shoved off the bed.
Logan stretched his arms behind his head, looking smug. “Problem solved.”
You snorted. “You are so petty.”
Logan just smirked, rolling onto his side to look at you. “Damn right. Now c’mere.”
You let out a squeak as he pulled you against his chest, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. His body was warm, solid, and you knew you should probably get up—clean up—but right now, wrapped up in Logan, you didn’t want to move.
---
“Hey. Would you mind checking the irrigation system? I just feel like something is wrong with it.” Ororo said, leaning against the counter in the kitchen while you ate a sandwich at the island.
You swallowed your bite and glanced at her. "What's wrong with it?"
She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don’t know exactly, but some of the plants in the greenhouse are drying out too fast. I checked the timers, everything should be working, but something’s off."
You nodded, already pushing your plate aside. "Yeah, I can take a look."
"Thanks." She gave you a small smile. "I’d check myself, but I promised the kids I’d help with their flight training today."
"No problem." You stood, grabbing your water bottle. "I’ll head over now."
As you turned to leave, Logan strolled into the kitchen, looking way too smug for no reason.
"Summers," he greeted casually, nodding at Ororo before his gaze flicked to you. "Goin' somewhere?"
"Irrigation system," you answered, reaching for an apple from the bowl on the counter. "Something’s off with it."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "You callin’ yourself an expert now?"
You smirked. "I literally have a degree for this, Logan."
His lips twitched, but before he could say something smart, Ororo let out a tired sigh. "You know what? Logan, why don’t you go with her? Two pairs of eyes are better than one."
You barely stopped yourself from choking on your water.
Logan blinked. "What?"
"You don’t have anything better to do," Ororo said, giving him a look. "And I’d rather not have to ask Hank to take apart the whole system if it turns out to be something simple."
You opened your mouth to protest, but Logan beat you to it. "Yeah, alright," he said, way too easily, like he wasn’t even remotely bothered. "Guess I could help out."
Ororo smiled. "Great. Let me know if you find anything."
With that, she left the kitchen, completely unaware of the absolute disaster she’d just created.
You turned to Logan, narrowing your eyes. "You are way too happy about this."
Logan smirked, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "What? I can’t enjoy a little quality time with my girl?"
"Not when we’re supposed to be keeping this quiet, you can’t," you muttered, grabbing your jacket. "Scott is literally somewhere in this house right now. You wanna take a wild guess at how bad things will go if he finds out?"
Logan shrugged, twisting the cap off his beer. "Guess we just gotta be real subtle then, huh?"
You groaned. "I hate you."
"No, you don’t," he said, smirking as he followed you out the door.
---
The greenhouse was quiet when you got there, the sun filtering through the glass, casting everything in a warm glow. You walked over to the control panel, Logan leaning against the workbench beside you, watching.
"So, what’s the verdict, doc?" he asked, sipping his beer.
You rolled your eyes. "That’s not even remotely the right title."
He smirked. "Still hot, though."
You ignored him, pressing a few buttons on the panel to check the irrigation schedule. Everything looked normal—no skipped cycles, no errors. "Huh," you muttered, frowning.
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Bad ‘huh’ or just confused ‘huh’?"
"Confused," you admitted. "The system says it’s running fine, but if the plants are drying out, that means the water’s not getting distributed properly."
Logan tilted his head. "Could be a leak somewhere."
"Yeah, maybe." You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "Looks like we’re gonna have to check the pipes."
Logan smirked. "So, what I’m hearin’ is, you need me to crawl around in the dirt while you stand there lookin’ pretty?"
You shot him a look. "No. What you’re hearing is that we both have to crawl around in the dirt because this system runs through half the property."
His smirk didn’t fade. "Still think you’d look real cute just supervisin’."
"Logan," you warned, crossing your arms.
He chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s check your damn pipes."
---
After an hour of checking different lines, you finally found the issue—a cracked section of piping near the east gardens.
"See? Leak," Logan muttered, wiping dirt from his hands. "Told ya."
You huffed, brushing soil off your knees. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell Ororo she needs to replace this part of the system."
Logan stretched, rolling his shoulders. "You wanna tell her now, or you wanna take advantage of the fact that we’re conveniently outta sight?"
You turned, giving him a look. "We’re in the middle of the garden."
Logan stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Yeah. And?"
You swallowed, glancing around. The mansion was a good distance away, and the gardens were quiet. Still, it was risky.
"Logan," you started, but before you could finish, he reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
"Relax, doll," he murmured, his fingers trailing down your jaw. "Just sayin’, we got a little privacy."
Your heart pounded. You should’ve shut this down. Should’ve reminded him that literally anyone could walk by.
But then Logan’s hand slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, and every ounce of common sense you had went right out the window.
You let out a shaky breath. "You are such a bad influence."
Logan smirked. "And yet, you keep comin’ back."
Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours—just a tease, just enough to make you chase him. Your hands curled into his shirt, pulling him in for real this time, kissing him like you didn’t care about the risk.
Because right now, you didn’t.
Logan hummed against your mouth, his grip tightening. "Told ya sneakin’ around was fun."
You sighed, pressing your forehead to his. "You’re impossible."
"And you love it," he murmured, kissing you again.
---
It was late at night when Logan snuck in through your window, one you conveniently left unlocked. It was around three in the morning—he knew you wouldn’t be awake at this time. Your room was dark, save for a soft glow from a nightlight in the corner. What stopped him was you curled up next to that damn bear—Pickles.
Logan stared, standing motionless beside your bed.
You were wrapped around the oversized stuffed animal, arms tucked beneath your chin, your face half-buried in the bear’s fuzzy head. One of your legs was thrown over it, keeping it locked against your body like it was an actual person.
Logan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
You shifted slightly at the sound of his voice, mumbling something incoherent. He watched as your fingers curled into the bear’s fur, pulling it even closer.
He narrowed his eyes. Then, with zero hesitation, he reached down and yanked Pickles right out of your arms.
A confused whimper escaped you as your grip slipped, but you didn’t wake up—just frowned in your sleep, instinctively reaching out to grab at something.
Logan smirked, tossing the bear toward the chair in the corner. Pickles landed with a soft thud, face down, abandoned.
“Not tonight, bub,” Logan muttered, sliding into bed beside you.
Without the stuffed barrier in the way, your body naturally curled toward his, your hand finding his chest, your head tucking beneath his chin. Logan huffed out something close to a laugh, wrapping an arm around you, his palm resting warm against your back.
"That’s better," he murmured against your hair.
He expected you to settle, maybe even murmur some sleepy complaint before drifting back off. What he didn’t expect was for you to suddenly mutter—half-asleep, barely audible, “bring him back.”
Logan blinked. “What?”
Your fingers twitched against his shirt, your face scrunching slightly. "Pickles. Give him back."
Logan stared at you like you’d just insulted his entire existence. "Not happenin’, sweetheart."
You let out a sleepy, frustrated sigh, shifting against him. "He’s soft."
Logan scoffed. "So am I."
You made a small, disgruntled noise, but didn’t argue—just burrowed deeper into him, apparently deciding he was an acceptable substitute.
Logan smirked. "That’s what I thought."
A comfortable silence settled, your breathing even, your body warm against his. He let his hand wander up and down your spine, slow, absentminded. Maybe sneaking around was a pain in the ass, but moments like this?
Yeah. Worth it.
---
In the morning, you found yourself still curled around Logan. His arm was slung lazily over your waist, his body warm against yours. His steady breathing tickled the top of your head, and for a second, you just stayed there, soaking in the quiet.
Then—his voice, still rough with sleep. "You know, if you wanted somethin’ to hold onto at night, you could just call me over instead of clingin’ to that damn bear."
You barely cracked an eye open. "Pickles."
Logan huffed. "Not callin’ him that."
You smirked, burying your face against his chest. "You’re just mad he’s softer than you."
"That right?" His hand slid down, fingers squeezing your hip. "You sure about that?"
You let out a soft laugh, shifting against him. "Mmhmm. You’re all muscle and stubble. Pickles is fluffy."
Logan muttered something under his breath, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your back. "Still don’t get why you sleep with that thing."
You hesitated for half a second before mumbling, "’cause he smells like you."
Logan stilled. You felt the way his fingers paused against your skin, the way his breathing slowed just slightly. Then—his voice, quieter this time. "Yeah?"
You swallowed, suddenly regretting saying anything. "Forget it."
His hand slid up, catching your chin and tilting your face toward him. His gaze flickered over yours, something unreadable in his eyes.
"Nah," he murmured. "Say it again."
You rolled your eyes, but your face was warm. "I said forget it."
Logan smirked, but it was softer this time, less teasing. "So what you’re tellin’ me is… every time you curl up with that stupid bear, you’re actually thinkin’ about me?"
"Don’t make it weird."
"Too late." He leaned in, lips brushing your temple. "That’s real fuckin’ sweet, doll."
You groaned, shoving at his chest. "Ugh, never mind. Give Pickles back."
Logan laughed, tightening his hold around you. "Nope. You lost stuffed animal privileges."
"That’s not a thing!"
"It is now."
You huffed, but you didn’t fight him. Not when he was warm and solid against you, not when his fingers were still tracing slow circles against your hip.
After a moment, Logan murmured, "you really don’t gotta wait for a goddamn stuffed bear to smell like me. Y’know that, right?"
You hesitated before answering. "I know."
His grip on you tightened, just slightly. "Good."
And even though he was an ass about it, even though you knew he was gonna bring this up at the worst possible moment just to mess with you—you still let yourself relax against him, letting his warmth, his scent, his presence wrap around you.
Because, yeah, you could’ve just called him over. But right now, he was here.
---
Later that morning, you were in the kitchen, making coffee when Rogue strolled in, looking far too amused for this early in the day.
“So,” she drawled, leaning against the counter. “Have a good night?”
You didn’t look at her. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
Rogue smirked. “Uh-huh. Funny, ‘cause I coulda sworn I saw Logan sneakin’ outta your window when I got up.”
You sighed, sipping your coffee. “Mind your business.”
“Oh, sugar,” she grinned, “this is my business.”
You groaned, setting your mug down. “If I tell you to shut up, will you?”
“Nope.”
You gave her a flat look. “Fantastic.”
Rogue chuckled, stealing a piece of toast from your plate. “So, what’s the deal? You two ever gonna stop sneakin’ around?”
You hesitated, fingers tightening around your mug. “It’s just easier this way.”
“For who?”
You exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Scott would lose his mind if he found out.”
Rogue raised an eyebrow. “And? He ain’t your keeper, Y/N. You’re a grown-ass woman.”
You shot her a look. “You don’t have a brother like Scott.”
“True,” she admitted. “But Logan’s actin’ like he’s gettin’ real tired of all the sneakin’ around.”
Your stomach twisted. “…He said that?”
“He didn’t have to.” Rogue smirked. “Man’s already borderline feral for you. Pretty sure the only reason he ain’t dragged you away yet is ‘cause he knows you’d feel bad ‘bout it.”
You swallowed. She wasn’t wrong.
Rogue nudged your shoulder. “Just think about it, sugar. Logan ain’t exactly patient.”
You sighed, rubbing your forehead. “Yeah. I know.”
She gave you a knowing look before grabbing another piece of toast and walking off.
You sat there, staring into your coffee, Rogue’s words circling in your head. This was getting harder. And you had no idea how much longer you could keep up the lie.
---
Every month you and Scott had a designated night where you would play chess and ‘catch up.’ You weren’t sure when it started, or why the game you played together was chess, but you didn’t have it in you to argue or skip out on it.
You sat across from him in the study, the old wooden chessboard set up between you. A lamp cast a warm glow over the pieces, making long shadows stretch across the table.
Scott studied the board like it held the secrets of the universe. You, on the other hand, were barely paying attention. Because Logan was somewhere in the mansion. And you were painfully aware of it.
“You good?” Scott asked, glancing up from the board.
You blinked, snapping out of it. “Huh?”
Scott frowned. “You seem distracted.”
You forced a casual shrug. “Just tired.”
Scott didn’t look convinced, but he moved his knight anyway. “You’ve been acting weird lately.”
You tensed. “Weird how?”
Scott leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I don’t know. You disappear a lot. You keep missing training or showing up late. Jean said your heart rate spikes randomly during dinner—”
Your stomach dropped. “She what?”
Scott waved a hand. “Not in a weird way. She just notices things.”
Yeah. You were sure she did. You picked up your rook, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up again. “Scott, I have a life outside of training, you know.”
Scott raised an eyebrow. “Do you?”
You gave him a look. “Yes, I do.”
He huffed, moving a pawn. “Fine. Who is he?”
Your hand froze mid-air. “What?”
Scott smirked. “Who’s the guy?”
Your brain short-circuited for a full three seconds. “Why would you assume it’s a guy?”
Scott shrugged. “Because I know you. And the only time you get this distracted is when someone’s involved.”
Your stomach twisted. You scrambled for something, anything, to throw him off. “How do you know it’s not a girl?”
Scott snorted. “Because I know you, and if you were seeing a girl, I’d have noticed by now.”
You moved your rook without thinking, mostly just to keep your hands busy. “Pretty sure you just admitted you haven’t noticed.”
Scott narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not letting this go. “So there is someone.”
Shit. “I didn’t say that,” you said quickly, trying to sound bored, like this conversation wasn’t sending your pulse through the roof.
Scott leaned forward, arms braced on the table. “Then say it now. There’s no one.”
You hesitated for half a second too long.
Scott’s smirk widened. “Gotcha.”
You groaned, running a hand down your face. “Scott—”
“No, no, now I have to know,” he said, sitting up straighter. “Who is he?”
“There’s no—”
“Do I know him?”
You exhaled sharply. “Scott.”
Scott ignored you. “Is it one of the new recruits? Someone in town? Oh God, tell me it’s not Warren—”
“Ew, no!” You made a face. “Gross.”
Scott smirked. “That was a strong reaction.”
“Because that’s disgusting.”
Scott chuckled, moving his bishop. “Okay, so not Warren.”
You huffed, leaning back in your chair. “This conversation is ridiculous.”
Scott tilted his head slightly, watching you too closely. “So there is someone.”
You were going to kill Rogue. Somehow, this had to be her fault.
You inhaled through your nose, trying to steady your voice. “Not that it’s any of your business, but if there was someone, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”
Scott frowned, his entire demeanor shifting from teasing to overprotective in record time. “Of course it’s a big deal.”
You groaned. “Scott—”
“I just wanna know who’s dating my little sister.”
You moved your queen, taking his bishop, and shot him a flat look. “And if I don’t tell you?”
Scott didn’t even blink. “Then I find out myself.”
Your stomach clenched. He wasn’t bluffing. And if Scott started looking—really looking—he’d figure it out. Fast. Logan wasn’t exactly subtle, and you were running out of ways to dodge questions. You needed to throw Scott off your trail, fast.
So, you did the first thing you could think of. You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Fine. It’s Peter.”
Scott blinked. Then he stared at you, his expression somewhere between disbelief and outright horror. “…Peter Maximoff?”
You nodded, keeping your face as neutral as possible.
Scott made a strangled noise. “Quicksilver?”
“Yeah.”
Scott recoiled like you’d just told him you were engaged to a war criminal. “No. No way.”
You shrugged, picking up your knight and moving it. “You wanted to know.”
Scott ran a hand over his face. “You cannot be serious.”
You fought the urge to smirk. “Why not? He’s nice.”
Scott groaned, pushing away from the table like the thought alone was physically painful. “He’s annoying.”
“He’s funny,” you corrected.
“He’s reckless.”
“He’s spontaneous.”
Scott’s eyes narrowed. “He’s immature.”
You shrugged again, making a show of considering it. “I think it’s kind of charming.”
Scott groaned again, rubbing his temples like this conversation was causing him actual pain. “How long?”
You tilted your head. “Hmm?”
“How long have you been…” Scott waved a hand vaguely. “Seeing him?”
You forced a thoughtful look, like you had to think about it. “A couple months?”
Scott let out an exasperated breath, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this.”
“Believe it,” you said casually, moving your piece. “Check.”
Scott didn’t even look at the board. “We’re not done talking about this.”
You smirked. “Pretty sure we are.”
Scott muttered something under his breath, looking thoroughly unamused, but he didn’t press.
You had successfully dodged the bullet. For now.
---
It had been four days since your little chess game with Scott, and while you’d managed to throw him off your trail with the whole Peter Maximoff thing, you were starting to regret it.
Because now, Scott was watching you and Peter like a hawk.
You knew it had been a bad idea the second Peter found out. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world. He kept winking at you during meals, slinging an arm around your shoulder whenever Scott was around, and making ridiculously suggestive comments just to see your brother’s eye twitch.
And Logan? Logan was not amused.
He’d barely reacted when you first told him, just raised an eyebrow and muttered, “you couldn’t come up with a better lie?”
But as the days passed and Peter continued to mess with Scott, Logan’s patience was wearing very thin.
So, when you walked into the rec room and found Peter sprawled out on the couch, grinning at Logan—who was standing over him with his arms crossed, looking one second away from snapping—yeah, you knew this was about to be a problem.
You sighed, closing the door behind you. “What are you two doing?”
Peter smirked up at you. “Hey, babe.”
Logan exhaled sharply through his nose.
You shot Peter a glare before turning to Logan. “Please tell me you haven’t threatened him.”
Logan’s lips twitched slightly, like he wanted to smirk but was still too pissed. “Didn’t have to.”
Peter propped himself up on one elbow, grinning. “Your boyfriend is jealous.”
Logan’s head snapped toward him so fast Peter actually flinched.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Peter, I swear—”
“What? It’s true!” Peter grinned, looking entirely too entertained by the whole thing. “Big, bad Wolverine doesn’t like that Scotty thinks we’re together.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. “You enjoy makin’ my life harder, don’t you?”
Peter gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Me? Never.”
Logan’s fists curled, and you could see the patience draining from his body. Before he could make a very bad decision, you grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the door. “Alright, enough.”
Peter snickered. “You guys gonna go make out now?”
Logan turned so fast that Peter actually rolled off the couch to avoid him. You yanked Logan out of the room before he could kill him. The second the door shut behind you, you sighed. “You cannot murder Peter, Logan.”
Logan’s teeth were clenched so tight you were surprised they hadn’t cracked. “Give me one good reason.”
You squeezed his arm. “Because Scott cannot find out about us.”
Logan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, well, if that little shit calls you ‘babe’ one more time, I can’t be held responsible.”
You fought back a smirk, but you didn’t entirely succeed. “You are jealous.”
Logan scoffed. “Jealous? Of Maximoff?” He snorted. “You serious?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. That’s why you were about to throw him through a wall.”
Logan didn’t answer, just crossed his arms and looked away.
You stepped closer, tilting your head up to look at him. “You know Scott’s buying it, right? That was the whole point.”
Logan’s jaw ticked, but he still wasn’t looking at you.
You smirked. “Aww. You mad I haven’t kissed you in public?”
Logan’s eyes snapped back to yours, dark and dangerous. “Sweetheart,” he muttered, voice dropping, “you better be real sure you wanna start somethin’ right now.”
Your stomach flipped. You knew that look. You swallowed, pulse picking up. “Maybe I do.”
Logan’s smirk was all teeth. “Then get your ass upstairs.”
Your breath hitched. “Logan—”
“Now,” he growled, stepping closer, his body heat swallowing you whole. “Unless you want your brother to walk by and see me pushin’ you against this wall.”
Your face burned. You turned immediately, heading straight for your room.
Logan’s low chuckle followed you all the way up the stairs.
---
Two weeks.
It had been two weeks since you’d started the fake dating Peter disaster, and while it had successfully kept Scott off your back, it had come with its own set of problems.
For one, Peter was still milking it for all it was worth. He’d taken to calling you babe and sweetheart in the most obnoxious ways possible, always just within Scott’s earshot. He threw an arm around your shoulder in the halls, made jokes about our song at dinner, and once—just to piss Logan off—winked at him across the room while sliding his hand into yours.
You’d nearly died. Logan had nearly killed him. The second problem? Logan was getting real tired of keeping things quiet.
It wasn’t just the usual sneaking around anymore. It was the way he was getting bolder about it. The way his hands lingered too long when he passed you in the hall. The way his eyes followed you across a room, sharp, hungry, like he didn’t give a shit who noticed.
And then there were moments like this. Logan had you pressed against your bedroom door, one hand braced above your head, the other gripping your waist. His mouth was at your ear, voice rough with frustration.
“This bullshit needs to end.”
You swallowed, your breath coming a little too fast. “Logan—”
He leaned in, his stubble scraping against your jaw as his lips brushed your skin. “Tell me you’re done playin’ pretend with Maximoff.”
You were done. You had been for days. But you still hesitated. “Scott—”
“Fuck Scott.” Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, his voice dropping lower. “You’re mine, Y/N. Not his, not Maximoff’s—mine.”
Your stomach flipped. “Logan…”
His teeth grazed your pulse, just enough to make you shiver. “Say it.”
You clenched your jaw. “We still have to be careful—”
“Sweetheart,” Logan growled, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze dark, dangerous, “I ain’t ever been careful with things I want.”
Heat coiled in your stomach, your fingers curling into his shirt.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? Because Logan wasn’t just some stupid crush. He wasn’t just a fun secret to keep. He was… everything. And the longer you kept this hidden, the harder it was getting to breathe.
Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, there was a sharp knock at your door.
Logan rolled his eyes but moved toward the closet, muttering, “déjà vu,” under his breath.
You smoothed out your shirt, inhaled deeply, and then cracked the door open.
Scott stood there, arms crossed, looking vaguely annoyed. “Why was your door locked?”
You gave him a flat look. “Because I was changing?”
Scott frowned, like he almost believed you, but not quite. “Right.”
You sighed, opening the door more. “What do you want, Scott?”
Scott hesitated, then ran a hand over his face. “Look. I just…” He sighed again. “I need to talk to you about Peter.”
Your stomach dropped. “Peter?”
Scott nodded, his expression tight. “Yeah.”
You felt the blood drain from your face, your heart pounding so loudly you almost didn’t hear what he said next.
“I don’t trust him.”
You blinked. “Wait, what?”
Scott exhaled, crossing his arms again. “I don’t trust him with you.”
You almost laughed. That’s what this was about?
Scott continued, completely oblivious to the actual disaster happening just a few feet behind you. “He’s too reckless. He jokes about everything. I just… I don’t think he’s taking this seriously.”
You resisted the urge to rub your temples. “Scott—”
“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”
Your stomach twisted. Goddamn it. You might’ve been lying to him, but Scott wasn’t the enemy here. He was just looking out for you. And you hated how guilty that made you feel. You swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I am, Scott. I promise.”
Scott studied you for a second longer before sighing. “Okay. Just… be careful, alright?”
You nodded. “I will.”
Scott exhaled, running a hand through his hair before finally stepping back. “Alright. I’ll see you at dinner.”
You nodded again, waiting until his footsteps faded down the hall before shutting the door and pressing your forehead against it.
“That’s it,” Logan muttered, stepping out of the closet. “I’m ending this.”
You turned, brows furrowing. “What?”
“I’m tellin’ him.”
Your stomach plummeted. “No.”
Logan scoffed. “Y/N—”
“No,” you repeated, stepping in front of him. “We can’t just tell him.”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because you didn’t have an answer to that. And Logan knew it.
His expression softened just slightly. “Sweetheart…”
You swallowed, voice quieter. “I just… I don’t want to fight with him. I hate fighting with him. He’s the only family I have left.”
Logan’s gaze softened, but his jaw was still tight, his hands curling into fists like he was holding back every single thing he wanted to say.
“I know, sweetheart,” he muttered. “But lyin’ to him ain’t gonna fix that.”
You swallowed hard, arms crossing over your chest. “And telling him is?”
Logan exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s gonna happen sooner or later.”
Your stomach twisted because, yeah, he was right. Scott was already suspicious, and keeping up this stupid fake thing with Peter was exhausting. But every time you thought about actually telling him—about watching his face change, seeing the way he’d probably look at you like you’d betrayed him—you couldn’t do it.
“I just need more time,” you said quietly.
Logan’s expression flickered, something unreadable passing behind his eyes. “Time for what?”
You hesitated. “Time to figure out how to tell him in a way that won’t make him hate me.”
Logan scoffed, shaking his head. “You really think he’s gonna hate you?”
You pressed your lips together, looking away.
“Doll,” Logan muttered, stepping closer. “Scott’s a pain in the ass, but he loves you. He’s not gonna stop because of me.”
You exhaled shakily. “You don’t know that.”
Logan reached out, his fingers curling gently under your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Yeah, I do.”
You swallowed, staring at him. His hand was warm, his thumb brushing slow against your skin, his grip solid, grounding. But it wasn’t that easy.
“I just…” You shook your head. “I don’t wanna lose him, Logan.”
Logan sighed, his forehead dropping against yours for a second before he pulled back. “You ain’t gonna lose him. But you keep this up, you’re gonna lose your damn mind.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, but it wasn’t really funny.
Logan studied you for a moment, then his fingers traced lightly down your arm before he let go. “You do what you gotta do. But I’m done sneakin’ around like some kid hidin’ from his girlfriend’s old man.”
Your stomach clenched. “So what? You’re just gonna start making out with me in the middle of the kitchen?”
Logan’s smirk was all teeth. “Hell yeah, I am.”
You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Logan, I swear to God—”
“What?” he said, tilting his head. “I already told you, I ain’t sneakin’ around anymore. So if I feel like grabbin’ my girl and kissin’ the hell outta her in the middle of the damn kitchen, I’m gonna do it.”
Your stomach flipped, but you scowled. “You’ll get us caught.”
Logan just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Maybe.”
You threw your hands up. “That’s not a good thing!”
Logan huffed a laugh, stepping closer, backing you up against the edge of your desk. His hands landed on your hips, fingers pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “Sweetheart, I ain’t the one lyin’ to your brother. That’s all you.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You agreed to this.”
“Yeah, and now I’m un-agreein’.” His hands slid higher, thumbs brushing against your ribs. “Gettin’ real tired of pretendin’ I don’t wanna put my hands on you every time you walk into a room.”
Your pulse spiked, and he definitely noticed. His smirk widened, and you knew you were losing this argument.
You exhaled sharply, putting a hand on his chest. “Just—give me a little more time, okay?”
Logan’s jaw ticked, his grip tightening for half a second before he sighed, stepping back. “Fine. But I ain’t makin’ it easy for you.”
You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Logan’s eyes gleamed with something downright smug. “Means if I wanna touch you, I’m gonna. If I wanna look at you like I’m thinkin’ about takin’ you apart right then and there, I’m gonna.”
Your mouth went dry. “Logan—”
“And if Summers gets suspicious?” Logan shrugged. “Not my problem.”
You gaped at him. “That’s literally the entire problem!”
Logan just smirked, brushing past you toward the door. “Better start thinkin’ of an exit plan, sweetheart.”
And with that, he strolled out of your room, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, brain short-circuiting.
---
You were, in fact, completely screwed. Because Logan wasn’t bluffing.
It started small—little touches, barely noticeable. A hand resting on the small of your back as he walked past, fingers brushing yours when he handed you something, his knee knocking against yours under the table at dinner. Subtle things that could’ve been brushed off if you didn’t know him.
But then he got bolder.
Leaning in close whenever he talked to you, his voice dropping low enough that it sent shivers down your spine. His hand lingering on your waist just a second too long. The way he looked at you across a room—dark, intense, like he was daring you to react.
And Scott? Scott was starting to notice.
He wasn’t outright suspicious yet, but his eyes would narrow every time Logan got too close, every time Logan made some offhand comment that sounded just a little too familiar. It didn’t help that Peter was still being an ass about the whole thing, grinning like he knew Logan was barely keeping it together.
And then came the moment everything almost fell apart.
---
You were in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, minding your own business when Logan walked in. You knew it was him before you even looked up—the scent of cigar smoke and leather, the way the air in the room seemed to shift.
He didn’t say anything at first, just stepped up behind you, real close, one hand bracing on the counter beside yours. “You sleep okay?” he murmured, his voice low.
You swallowed. He wasn’t touching you, not really, but the heat of him at your back had your pulse spiking. “Fine,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Why?”
Logan hummed. “Thought maybe you’d have trouble, seein’ as how I wasn’t there.”
Your stomach flipped. Before you could tell him to knock it off, Scott walked in. Logan didn’t move.
Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept your expression neutral, forcing yourself to casually step away from the counter and grab a glass from the cabinet. Logan still hadn’t backed up, still standing too close, but at least he wasn’t blatantly touching you.
Scott paused in the doorway, glancing between the two of you. You braced yourself. But instead of questioning anything, Scott’s frown deepened, and then he said, “I need to talk to you.”
Your stomach sank. “Me?”
Scott nodded. “Now.”
You hesitated, then set your glass down. “Okay.” You didn’t look at Logan as you followed Scott out of the kitchen, but you could feel his eyes on you the whole way.
Scott led you to the study, shutting the door behind you. He didn’t say anything at first, just turned and studied you like he was trying to read your mind.
You crossed your arms. “Okay, what’s up?”
Scott exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about Peter.”
You barely stopped yourself from groaning. “Again?”
Scott’s expression tightened. “You know I don’t trust him.”
You sighed. “Scott—”
“No, listen,” he said, crossing his arms. “I get that you don’t wanna hear it, but I don’t think he’s serious about this. I think he’s just screwing around, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Guilt punched you straight in the chest. Scott thought he was protecting you, looking out for you. And you were standing here, lying to his face. You swallowed hard. “Scott, I told you—I’m fine.”
Scott frowned. “You don’t even look happy when you’re with him. And I don’t mean, like, in some overprotective big brother way—I mean you don’t act like someone in a real relationship. There’s no… I don’t know. No connection. It’s like you’re just going through the motions.”
Your mouth was dry.
Scott exhaled, looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “So tell me the truth. What’s really going on?”
Your heart pounded. You could lie again. Dig yourself deeper.
Or—
You took a slow breath. “Scott…” You hesitated, stomach twisting, then forced the words out. “It’s not Peter.”
Scott’s brow furrowed. “What?”
You swallowed hard. “I’m not dating Peter.”
Scott just stared at you. “But—you said—”
“I lied,” you admitted, your hands tightening into fists at your sides. “I only said it to get you off my back.”
Scott’s expression darkened. “So there is someone.” You hesitated. Scott took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Who?” You opened your mouth—then shut it. Scott’s gaze flickered, sharp, calculating. And then, like a switch flipping, realization dawned across his face. His jaw clenched. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Your stomach plummeted.
Scott took a sharp breath, hands curling into fists. “It’s Logan.”
Your pulse roared in your ears. He knew. Your heart raced as Scott’s entire body tensed, his face twisting into something between anger and disbelief.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, voice dangerously low.
You couldn’t. And that silence? That was enough.
Scott exhaled sharply, turning away like he physically couldn’t look at you. His hands went to his hips, his head dropping forward as he took a moment, his breathing tight, controlled. Then he turned back, expression like stone. “How long?”
You swallowed. “Scott—”
“How long?”
You hesitated. “Eight months.”
Scott inhaled through his nose, like he was trying very hard not to explode. “Eight months?” You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. Scott let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
You clenched your fists. “Scott, I—”
“No,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “You don’t get to explain this away.”
Your jaw tightened. “I wasn’t going to explain it away. I was going to tell you the truth.”
Scott scoffed. “Oh, now you wanna tell me the truth?”
You exhaled sharply. “Look, I get it, okay? You’re pissed, and you have every right to be. But I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react exactly like this.”
Scott threw his hands up. “How the hell did you expect me to react?”
“I don’t know, maybe without immediately jumping down my throat?”
Scott’s glare was sharp. “You’re seriously gonna stand there and act like I shouldn’t be pissed that my best friend has been sneaking around with my little sister?”
Your frustration flared. “Logan isn’t just your best friend—he’s mine, too. And I didn’t plan for this to happen, Scott. It just… did.”
Scott ran both hands over his face, pacing. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.
You crossed your arms. “I know you don’t like it—”
“You think?”
You groaned. “Scott, I love him.” Scott’s pacing stopped. He turned, staring at you like you’d just said the most impossible thing in the world. You swallowed hard. “I love him,” you repeated, quieter this time.
Scott’s jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I need to talk to Logan.”
Your stomach twisted. “Scott—”
“No,” he said firmly, already heading for the door. “He wants to be with you? Fine. Then he can explain himself.”
And just like that, Scott was gone.
Your heart pounded as you stood there, frozen, bracing yourself for what came next. Scott was already storming down the hall, and you knew exactly where he was headed.
Shit.
You forced yourself to move, shoving away from the desk and hurrying after him. “Scott, wait—”
He didn’t. He was on a mission, his jaw clenched, shoulders tense as he turned the corner and entered the kitchen, where Logan was still leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee like he had all the time in the world.
Logan barely had time to look up before Scott was right in front of him. “You and my sister?”
Logan set his coffee down with zero urgency, his expression unreadable. “Guessin’ she told you, huh?”
Scott let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Eight months. Eight months you’ve been sneaking around with my little sister, and you never thought to tell me?”
Logan crossed his arms. “Didn’t think you’d take it well.”
Scott scoffed. “Yeah, no shit.”
You stepped forward, pulse still racing. “Scott, I—”
“No, you stay out of this for a second,” Scott snapped, pointing at you before turning back to Logan. “You’re supposed to be my best friend.”
Logan’s face remained infuriatingly calm. “And?”
“And you didn’t think that maybe—just maybe—I deserved to know?”
Logan exhaled slowly, like he was thinking very carefully about what he was going to say. “Look, Summers. You’re pissed, I get it. But me not tellin’ you? That was her call.”
Scott turned to you, eyes flashing. “Seriously?”
You squared your shoulders. “I knew you’d react like this.”
Scott threw his hands up. “Like what? Like someone who just found out his best friend has been messing around with his sister behind his back?”
Logan’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to something more dangerous. “Watch it, Summers.”
Scott’s head snapped back to him. “Or what?”
Logan’s hands flexed at his sides, but he didn’t move, didn’t take the bait. Instead, he just held Scott’s glare, unmoving. “You really think I’d do somethin’ to hurt her?”
Scott clenched his jaw, saying nothing.
“C’mon, man,” Logan continued, his tone lower now, less defensive. “I get why you’re pissed. I do. But I ain’t some asshole just messin’ around.” His gaze flicked to you for half a second before he looked back at Scott. “I love her.”
Your breath caught.
Scott’s shoulders tensed. “You what?”
Logan exhaled sharply, like he hated repeating himself, but he still did. “I love her.”
Scott’s jaw was tight, his whole body still stiff, but for the first time since he walked in, he didn’t immediately fire back. He was processing.
You didn’t wait for him to figure it out. You stepped forward, voice quieter now. “Scott… I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it’s not your decision. I love him.”
Scott closed his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply. When he opened them, some of the sharp anger had faded, replaced with something more complicated. Frustration. Conflict.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I need a minute.”
You hesitated. “Scott—”
“I just—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I just need a second, okay?”
You exchanged a glance with Logan, who gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Scott sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out. The second he was gone, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, shoulders slumping.
“Well,” Logan muttered, reaching for his coffee, “that coulda gone worse.”
You shot him a look. “Are you kidding?”
Logan smirked. “No punches were thrown. I call that a win.”
You groaned, rubbing your temples. “He’s so pissed.”
“Yeah,” Logan admitted, taking a sip of his coffee. “But he’ll get over it.”
You exhaled sharply. “You sound real confident about that.”
Logan shrugged. “He’ll come around. Might take a bit, but he will.”
You swallowed, staring at the spot Scott had just been standing. You weren’t so sure.
---
Scott avoided both of you for two days.
Not in a dramatic, storming-out-of-the-room way—more like a tight-lipped, jaw-clenched, very obvious avoidance where he refused to be alone with either of you. If you walked into a room, he’d suddenly have somewhere else to be. If Logan so much as glanced in his direction, Scott’s entire body would tense like he was physically restraining himself from starting a fight.
And when he did speak to you, it was short. Civil, but distant.
It sucked.
Rogue had been the first to break the silence, dropping onto your bed the night after the whole blow-up with an exaggerated sigh.
“Well, sugar, I gotta say, it could be worse.”
You shot her a look. “How?”
She smirked. “He hasn’t tried to kill Logan yet.”
You groaned, rolling onto your side. “Yet.”
Rogue nudged your arm. “He’ll get over it.”
You exhaled sharply. “You sound just like Logan.”
She grinned. “Well, maybe he’s got a point.”
You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “It’s not just that he’s pissed. It’s like… I don’t know. Like he’s disappointed.”
Rogue’s smirk softened. “Scott’s a control freak, Y/N. He likes things a certain way, and you dating Logan? That wasn’t in the plan.”
You didn’t answer.
Rogue tilted her head. “You ever think maybe it’s not just about Logan?”
Your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Rogue shrugged. “I think Scott’s got it in his head that you’re always gonna be his baby sister. That he can always look out for you, make sure you don’t get hurt.” She gave you a look. “And now? You don’t need him like that anymore.”
You hadn’t thought about it like that.
Rogue sighed, patting your arm before standing. “Just give him time. And maybe don’t rub it in his face too much.”
You huffed. “Tell that to Logan.”
Rogue snorted. “Oh, I did. He just smirked at me and said, ‘Summers already hates me. What’s the worst that could happen?’”
You groaned. “I hate him.”
“No, you don’t,” Rogue said with a grin, already heading for the door. “Night, sugar.”
You sighed, flopping back against your pillows. Time. You just had to wait.
---
It took four days. On the fifth, Scott finally cornered you outside, catching you by the greenhouse just before dinner. “Hey.”
You turned, heart jumping slightly. You hadn’t talked alone since he’d found out. “Hey.”
Scott shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “You got a minute?”
You nodded, following him to one of the benches near the garden. The silence stretched between you, awkward and heavy.
Finally, Scott sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m still not… thrilled about this.”
You swallowed. “I know.”
“But.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “I’ve been thinking. And… you’re not a kid.”
Your lips twitched. “Glad you finally noticed.”
Scott huffed, but his expression softened. “I can’t say I like it. And I definitely don’t like Logan.”
You snorted. “Yeah, I got that.”
Scott gave you a look before sighing again. “But I know he’s not just screwing around with you.”
You hesitated. “No. He’s not.”
Scott’s jaw tightened for half a second, but then he nodded. “And I know you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t really want to.”
You swallowed hard. “I don’t just want to, Scott. I—” You hesitated before finishing, “I love him.”
Scott exhaled sharply, rubbing his forehead like the very idea gave him a headache. “Yeah. I know.”
You bit your lip. “So…?”
Scott sighed. “So I’m not gonna fight you on it.”
Your chest tightened. “Really?”
Scott gave you a look. “I still don’t like it.”
“I know.”
“But… if this is what you want, then I’ll deal with it.”
Something in your throat clenched. You hadn’t realized how much you’d needed to hear that.
Scott sighed, shaking his head. “Just—if he does screw this up? I’m kicking his ass.”
You smirked. “I think you’d have to get in line.”
Scott snorted, finally—finally—cracking a small smile.
It wasn’t perfect. But it was enough. And for now? That was all you needed. With a quick dive, before he could push you away, you hugged him.
Scott stiffened for half a second—because, yeah, you weren’t exactly the most affectionate siblings—but then he sighed, relenting, patting your back once. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.”
You grinned, squeezing him tighter just to be annoying before finally letting go. “You’re such a softie.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Yeah, don’t spread that around.”
You smirked. “No promises.”
Scott exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “So… Logan.”
You sighed, already bracing yourself. “Scott—”
“I’m not gonna lecture you,” he interrupted, then paused. “Much.”
You crossed your arms. “That’s reassuring.”
Scott gave you a look. “I’m serious. Just… be careful, okay? Logan’s not exactly the easiest person to be with.”
Your stomach twisted, but you nodded. “I know.”
Scott hesitated, like he wanted to say something else, but then he just sighed. “And if he ever—”
“He won’t.”
Scott frowned. “You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“Yes, I do.” You met his gaze. “And he won’t.”
Scott studied you for a second, then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. But if he does screw this up, I’m still kicking his ass.”
You smirked. “You can try.”
Scott scowled, but you could see the reluctant amusement in his eyes. “Alright. We good?”
Your chest loosened. “Yeah. We’re good.”
Scott nodded, then exhaled sharply, muttering, “Can’t believe you made me have this conversation.”
You snorted. “Hey, technically, you cornered me first.”
Scott huffed, shaking his head as he turned away. “Whatever. Just… don’t be weird about it.”
You grinned. “Define weird.”
Scott shot you a glare over his shoulder. “I swear to God, Y/N—”
You laughed, and even though he rolled his eyes, you caught the way his expression softened just a little. Maybe things weren’t completely back to normal, but it was close enough. And that was a hell of a lot better than days of radio silence.
---
Later that night, you were in your room, scrolling through your phone when a quiet knock sounded at your window.
You already knew who it was. Rolling your eyes, you got up and pulled the curtain back. Sure enough, Logan was standing outside, arms crossed, looking way too smug for someone sneaking in like a damn teenager.
You cracked the window open. “You know, we have doors.”
Logan smirked. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”
You sighed, but stepped back, letting him climb inside. The second his feet hit the floor, his hands were on your waist, pulling you close. “So?” he murmured, voice low, his breath warm against your temple. “How pissed is he?”
You leaned into him, resting your hands on his chest. “Less than before.”
Logan snorted. “That ain’t sayin’ much.”
You smirked. “Well, he didn’t try to kill you today, so that’s progress.”
Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Guess I’ll take what I can get.”
You hummed, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. “Told you he’d come around.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Logan’s lips skimmed your throat, his hands sliding lower. “You want me to tell you that you were right?”
You grinned. “It would be nice.”
Logan huffed. “Ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”
You laughed, threading your fingers into his hair, pulling him down into a kiss. His hands tightened on your hips, his body pressing closer, and suddenly, you weren’t thinking about Scott or the last few days or anything else. Just Logan—his mouth, his hands, the heat between you.
He pushed you down onto your bed, Pickles’ legs separating you from your mattress. Logan froze. You blinked up at him, still breathless from the way he’d kissed you. “What?”
His eyes flicked down, jaw clenching. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”
You followed his gaze and nearly lost it. Pickles was wedged between you two, his oversized plush limbs keeping Logan from pressing you fully into the mattress. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “What, is he in the way?”
Logan’s glare could’ve melted steel. “Move him.”
You grinned, making no effort to do so. “I don’t know, Logan. Maybe he wants to chaperone.”
Logan exhaled sharply, sitting back on his heels. “That’s it. He’s gotta go.”
Before you could react, he grabbed Pickles by the torso and chucked him across the room. The bear hit the chair in the corner, flopped onto the floor, and landed face down. You gasped, sitting up. “Logan!”
He just shrugged, completely unapologetic. “He had it comin’.”
“You are so petty,” you said, glaring at him.
Logan smirked, pushing you back down, his weight settling over you again. “Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it, sweetheart?”
You narrowed your eyes. “I’m getting him back later.”
He chuckled, dipping his head to brush his lips against your jaw. "Not obsessed. Just don’t like sharin’." His teeth scraped against your skin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. "And you—" His hands slid lower, gripping your hips. "—are mine."
Your breath caught. "Yeah?"
Logan hummed against your throat. "Damn right."
You barely had time to register the shift before he had you flipped onto your stomach, your body pressing into the mattress as his weight settled over you. His hands smoothed over your sides, slow, teasing. "This okay?"
You exhaled shakily, tilting your head back slightly before repeating, "yeah."
Logan made a satisfied noise, his lips trailing along the back of your shoulder as his fingers curled around your wrists, pinning them against the sheets. "Good," he muttered. "Now let’s see if I can make you forget about that damn bear."
You barely bit back a laugh—before his teeth sank lightly into the side of your neck, and any smart-ass response you had completely disappeared. You were definitely screwed.
chapter summary: You're Scott's younger sister and for months you've been secretly dating Logan. How much longer can you and him keep the secret?
word count: 8.3k+ (19.3k+ total)
pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader
notes: don't ask how or why this is so long, it was meant to be be less than 10k words but it just kept going. i was having a lot of fun writing this, and if people want to see a continuation or some other part of the story with these two, don't be afraid to ask! for now, enjoy cause there are like 3 smut scenes
there are two parts! tumblr has a word limit so i had to split it up!
warnings/tags: smut, unprotected piv, slight exhibitionism, slight pain kink, creampie, age gap (that's obvi), oral (f!receiving), slight praise kink, fingering, secret relationship, jealously, some possessiveness, peter maximoff being a little shit, fluff, slight angst
❀ part 2 ❀
“That’s it sweetheart.” Logan drawled, his body hovering over yours while slowly thrusting into you. “Doin’ so good for me.”
Your hands clawed at his shoulders, nail indents healing immediately.
Logan let out a low, rough chuckle against your throat. "Feisty, huh?" His voice was thick with heat, lips dragging along your pulse as he thrust deeper. "Go on, doll, mark me up all you want. Ain't like it'll stick—but I like feelin' you try."
Your breath hitched, legs tightening around his waist. "Shut up and move, Logan."
His smirk was all teeth. "Bossy." But he gave you what you wanted, picking up the pace, the bed rocking under both of you.
Knock. Knock.
Your body stiffened instantly. Logan froze too, just for a second, before his head snapped toward the door.
"Y/N?"
Scott.
Your stomach flipped. Logan's grip on your hip tightened. "You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he muttered under his breath.
"Shut up," you hissed, slapping a hand over his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at you, clearly amused despite the situation.
Scott knocked again. "You in there?"
You scrambled for an excuse, trying to keep your voice normal. "Uh—yeah! What do you want?"
Logan leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "Think he knows his baby sister's gettin' fucked dumb by the big bad Wolverine?"
You smacked his shoulder. "You're not helping."
Scott sighed on the other side of the door. "Jean said you weren’t in your room, and you missed training this morning. You okay?"
Shit. "Yeah! I'm fine! I just—I was asleep."
Logan stifled a laugh against your neck. "Not a total lie," he murmured, nipping at your jaw.
You shoved at his chest. "Stop it," you mouthed.
Scott hesitated. "You sure?"
Logan's hips rolled, and you barely bit back a moan. "Positive," you choked out. "Just… tired. Can we talk later?"
A pause. Then: "Alright. Just checkin'." His footsteps retreated down the hall.
Logan didn’t wait. The second Scott’s footsteps faded down the hall, he was back on you—mouth hot, breath rough, hands greedy.
"You shoulda heard yourself," he murmured, lips dragging along your jaw. "Tryin’ to sound all innocent when I got you stuffed full like this."
Your nails dug into his back again, legs still locked tight around his waist. "And whose fault is that?"
His smirk was downright filthy. "Mine. And I ain't even a little sorry."
He moved again—slow, deep thrusts that had you gasping against his shoulder. You bit down on his skin, just to keep quiet, and he groaned low in his chest. "Fuck, doll, do that again."
You did, dragging your teeth over his collarbone, then licking over the mark like an apology. His pace stuttered for half a second before he pressed you deeper into the mattress, forearm braced next to your head.
"You wanna play dirty, huh?" His voice was a growl now, rough as gravel. "You're gonna be real sorry 'bout that."
And then he set a punishing rhythm—hips slamming into yours, his body pressed so tight to you that you could feel the heat of him everywhere.
You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Every drag, every thrust had you unraveling under him, nails clawing at his arms, his back, his shoulders—anything to ground yourself.
"Logan," you gasped.
He groaned, burying his face in your neck. "Yeah, sweetheart, I know. I got you."
His breath was hot against your skin, his weight solid, grounding. But there was nothing slow or sweet about the way he moved now—his hips drove into yours with an intensity that made your nails sink even deeper into his back.
"Fuck, Logan," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.
He chuckled, rough and dark. "S'what I like to hear," he muttered, dragging his teeth along the side of your throat. "All those little noises—only I get to hear ‘em, huh?"
Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking just enough to make him grunt. "Maybe if you'd shut up and—oh, shit—keep going—"
Logan didn't need more encouragement. He pressed you further into the mattress, keeping you pinned beneath him, his pace relentless. Every roll of his hips sent a sharp, toe-curling heat through you, your pulse thudding loud in your ears.
Then—his mouth was at your ear again. "You still think Scott bought that bullshit excuse?"
Your stomach tightened, pleasure warring with panic. "Shut up," you hissed.
His smirk was pure sin. "Nah. Kinda fun knowin’ he was just outside while I had you like this—"
"Logan," you warned, biting back a moan.
He just hummed like the idea amused him. "Bet he'd lose his fuckin’ mind if he knew, huh? His sweet, innocent baby sister—" His hips slammed into yours, forcing out a sharp, breathless gasp. "—gettin' wrecked by the guy he hates most."
You slapped a hand over his mouth again, eyes flashing. "Do you want us to get caught?"
Logan just huffed against your palm, but his eyes burned with something darker. Amused. Possessive. A challenge.
Then, just as quickly, he shifted, dragging your hand away and pinning it above your head, his fingers laced through yours. "Nah, I like keepin’ you all to myself," he murmured against your lips before claiming them in a kiss—deep, messy, all tongue and teeth and heat.
The knock at the door had long since faded into silence, but the risk still lingered—your brother was right there, just down the hall. The thought alone made something coil tighter in your gut.
"Logan," you whispered, half warning, half plea.
"Shh," he muttered, his free hand slipping down your body, gripping tight at your waist as he drove into you again. "Just focus on me, sweetheart. Nothin’ else matters."
And for now, with his body pressing you deeper into the sheets, his breath ragged against your skin, and his hands branding you in ways that would never fade—he was right.
---
Dinner was already a disaster, and you hadn’t even sat down yet. Scott was in full big-brother mode, still eyeing you like he wasn’t convinced by your excuse from earlier. Jean had that look too—like she could hear your heart rate spike every time Scott brought it up. And Rogue? She was the worst of them all, smirking every time you so much as shifted in your seat.
“So,” Scott started, arms crossed as he leaned against the kitchen counter. “You sure you’re okay?”
You grabbed a plate, keeping your expression neutral. “Yeah, Scott. Just tired. I overslept.”
Scott frowned, clearly skeptical. “You never oversleep.”
Rogue snorted into her drink. “Maybe she had a long night,” she said innocently, then flicked her gaze toward you with way too much amusement.
Your stomach dropped. You shot her a glare, but she just smirked over the rim of her cup.
“Long night doing what?” Scott asked.
Jean sighed. “Scott.”
“No, seriously. She missed training. That’s not like her.”
“Maybe she was busy,” Rogue said, taking a slow sip. “Real busy.”
You swore you were going to kill her. Right here. At the dinner table.
Scott’s frown deepened. “Doing what?”
Before Rogue could dig your grave any deeper, Logan walked in like he owned the place, rolling his shoulders and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He barely spared you a glance, but you knew he was enjoying this way too much.
“Doin’ what, Summers?” Logan popped the cap off the bottle and took a swig, looking entirely unbothered.
Scott gestured toward you. “She missed training this morning. Said she was sleeping, but she never oversleeps.”
Logan shrugged. “Guess she needed it.”
Scott narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think that’s weird?”
Logan leaned against the counter, looking unimpressed. “What’s weird is you interrogatin’ her like she committed a crime.”
Rogue let out a cough that sounded a hell of a lot like a laugh.
Jean, who had been watching the entire thing unfold, finally spoke up. “Scott, drop it. If she says she was tired, she was tired.”
Scott exhaled sharply, clearly still unconvinced but finally letting it go. “Fine.” He grabbed his plate and moved to sit down.
Logan smirked over the rim of his beer before taking another sip. You didn’t even have to look at him to know exactly what was going through his head.
As soon as Scott turned away, Rogue leaned over and muttered under her breath, “You’re lucky Jean shut him up.”
You kicked her under the table. She just grinned.
---
Later that night you were in your bedroom reading a book when someone knocked on your door. “It’s open!” you called out. You knew it wouldn’t be Logan, not when it was only 9 pm.
Rogue plopped down beside you, stretching her legs out and giving you a shit-eating grin.
"So," she drawled, nudging your shoulder. "How's your nap?"
You groaned, already regretting not locking your door. "Not you too."
"Oh, especially me," she said, grinning. "C'mon, sugar, I deserve some details after helpin’ cover your ass at dinner."
You shot her a glare. "You almost got me caught."
"Please," she scoffed. "Scott's dense as hell when it comes to you. If Jean weren’t there, he’d still be tryin’ to figure out what was ‘off’ about you today." She smirked. "Meanwhile, I know exactly what was off."
You grabbed a pillow and smacked her with it. Rogue just laughed. "Hey, I ain't judgin’! I just think it’s funny how not subtle you two are."
You gave her a look. "We are subtle."
"Uh-huh. Sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "So subtle that I had to watch Logan barely contain his smug-ass smirk at dinner. You realize you got played, right? Scott started pushin’, and Logan shut it down in, like, two sentences."
You frowned. "That wasn’t playing me—that was helping me."
Rogue snorted. "Girl, Logan lives for this. He’s gettin’ off on the fact that he’s sneakin’ around with Scott Summers' baby sister."
You opened your mouth, then closed it. You hated that she was probably right.
Rogue grinned. "Bet he’s got a real nice ego boost right now."
You sighed, flopping back against your pillows. "I hate you."
"No, you don't," she said cheerfully. "But you do love makin’ bad decisions."
"Logan is not a bad decision." She raised an eyebrow. You crossed your arms. "He’s not."
Rogue just smirked. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, sugar."
You groaned. "Are you done?"
"Not even close," she said, kicking her feet up on your bed. "But I’ll give you a break—for now."
"Gee, thanks."
She chuckled, then eyed you for a moment before her smirk softened just a little. "You really like him, huh?"
You hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. I do."
Rogue nodded, like she already knew. "Then I guess I’ll keep coverin’ for you."
You smiled. "Thanks."
"Don’t thank me yet," she said, grinning. "If you two do get caught, I wanna be front row for Scott’s meltdown."
---
A few nights later, you barely made it two steps into your room before a rough hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you inside. The door shut behind you with a quiet click.
“Jesus—Logan!” You turned, ready to shove him off, but the moment you saw the look in his eyes, your stomach flipped.
His hands were already on your waist, pushing you back until your spine hit the door. His body was flush against yours, heat radiating from him.
“You’ve been drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy all day,” he muttered, voice low, rough. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place like he needed to. “Sittin’ across from me at dinner, actin’ all innocent, while I’m still thinkin’ ‘bout the way you came on my cock the other night.”
Your breath hitched, pulse spiking. “Logan—”
“Could barely keep my hands to myself,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, your throat. “You think Scott noticed how damn quiet I was?”
You swallowed hard, hands clutching at his arms. “You were quiet?”
Logan chuckled against your skin. “See? You weren’t payin’ attention either.” He pressed closer, one thigh slotting between yours, and you felt him—hot, hard, ready.
“Logan,” you breathed, your fingers twisting in his shirt.
“Yeah, sweetheart?” His lips brushed your ear, teasing. “Tell me what you want.”
A sharp knock made you both freeze. Again? Your stomach dropped as Logan exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath.
“Y/N?” Scott’s voice.
You shut your eyes, biting back a groan. Logan’s forehead dropped against your shoulder, his whole body tense.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” he whispered.
You shoved at his chest, mouthing move. He just smirked, staying right where he was.
Scott knocked again. “You in there?”
Logan's smirk widened, eyes gleaming with something smug. You cleared your throat, forcing your voice to sound normal. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Open up.”
Panic shot through you. Logan just raised an eyebrow, amused. You shoved at his chest harder, whispering, “hide.”
He grinned. “No.”
Your glare was sharp. “Logan.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes before finally stepping back. “Fine.” He moved toward your closet, muttering, “This is fuckin’ humiliatin’,” under his breath.
You didn’t have time to argue. The moment he was out of sight, you exhaled hard and cracked the door open.
Scott frowned down at you. “Why’d that take so long?”
You forced a casual shrug. “I was getting ready for bed.”
Scott squinted at you, then looked over your shoulder, like he expected to find some kind of evidence of your lies. “You sure?”
Your heart pounded. “Yes, Scott,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “Why are you here?”
Scott still looked unconvinced, but finally said, “I wanted to see if you wanted to train in the morning. Just us.”
You blinked. “Uh… sure?”
“Cool. Early morning session. Don’t be late.” He gave you another suspicious look before stepping back. “Night, Y/N.”
You gave him the fakest smile you could muster. “Night.”
The second the door shut, Logan was out of the closet, shaking his head. “You owe me for that.”
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, poor you. Hiding for thirty seconds.”
He stepped close again, hands sliding back onto your waist. “Not the hidin’ part that pissed me off,” he muttered, pressing his mouth to your throat. “It’s the part where I didn’t get to finish what I started.”
Heat curled in your stomach. “Then finish it,” you whispered.
Logan’s grip tightened, fingers digging into your waist as he pressed you back against the door, his body flush against yours. Heat radiated off him in waves, thick and consuming.
"Thought you'd never ask," he murmured, his voice all gravel and dark amusement. His lips traced a slow path along your jaw before dragging down to your throat, teeth grazing sensitive skin.
Your fingers curled into his shirt, desperate to hold onto something as his hands moved—one sliding up your side, under your shirt, rough fingers splaying against bare skin. You sucked in a sharp breath as he pressed his thigh between yours, the pressure making your head spin.
"Logan—"
"You were teasin' me all damn day," he muttered against your skin. "All wide eyes and sweet little smiles like you weren’t sittin’ there with my fuckin’ marks still on you."
Your breath hitched. His teeth caught on the spot where your shoulder met your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp. "Not my fault you left them," you whispered, your own hands slipping under his shirt, tracing over the hard muscle of his stomach.
Logan chuckled—low, dangerous. "Oh, it was on purpose, sweetheart. Wanted you rememberin' exactly where my mouth was."
His lips skimmed your jaw, his stubble scraping your skin as he worked his way lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the line of your throat. His hands were firm, fingers digging into your waist, holding you against him like he needed you there.
"You should've finished before Scott interrupted," you muttered, breathless, trying to keep some semblance of control.
Logan chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. "Sweetheart, you really think I’m the kinda guy to rush this?" His teeth scraped over the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. "Nah. You started this game, now you gotta deal with the consequences."
His hands moved—one slipping beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across your ribs, rough and warm. The other slid lower, down the curve of your hip, before gripping the back of your thigh and hauling it up against his side. The movement sent you pressing closer, heat meeting heat, and you gasped.
"You feel that?" His voice was a low growl. "Been hard all damn day because of you."
Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him even closer. "Then do something about it."
His smirk was pure arrogance. "Oh, you got some fire tonight, huh?" His hand on your thigh tightened, his other sliding higher beneath your shirt, grazing the underside of your breast. "I like that."
Before you could snap back, he kissed you—hard. No hesitation, no teasing. His lips crashed against yours, his tongue sweeping into your mouth like he was claiming you, like he'd been waiting for this all day. And maybe he had.
Your back hit the door harder as he pressed into you, deepening the kiss, swallowing the quiet moan that slipped from your throat. His hands were everywhere—roaming, gripping, pulling.
Then, with no warning, he lifted you. You gasped against his lips, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he turned, carrying you toward the bed like you weighed nothing.
"You just gonna manhandle me now?" you teased, breathless.
Logan smirked, dropping you onto the mattress with a bounce. "Damn right I am."
Before you could recover, he was on you—hands braced on either side of your head, knee pressing between your thighs. His lips were back on yours, insistent, hungry. He kissed like he fought—relentless, determined, and utterly in control.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp, and the growl he let out sent heat pooling low in your stomach.
His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, dragging it up, his knuckles grazing heated skin as he peeled it over your head. The second it was gone, his mouth was everywhere—kissing, nipping, sucking at the newly exposed skin like he had something to prove.
"Logan—" Your voice hitched as his teeth scraped over your collarbone.
"Shh," he murmured against your skin, lips moving lower. "Let me enjoy this."
His hands found the waistband of your pants, tugging them down with far too much ease, his lips still moving, still teasing. You barely had time to process the cool air against your skin before his hands were on your thighs, spreading you open.
He looked up at you, eyes dark, heated, hungry. "You are gonna be real quiet for me, right?" His voice was nothing but rough gravel and amusement. "Wouldn't want your brother to come knockin' again."
You should've had a smart-ass response ready, but the moment his mouth was on you, your brain short-circuited. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as his tongue dragged slow and deliberate, a teasing flick before he sealed his lips around you and sucked. Your fingers shot to his hair, tangling in the thick mess, your back arching off the bed before you even realized it.
"Logan—"
He growled against you, the vibration sending a shock straight through your system. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
"Quiet, sweetheart," he murmured, dragging his mouth away just enough to speak. His lips were slick, his voice dark with amusement.
You clenched your jaw, the reminder making your face burn—but not enough to stop you from tugging his hair, shoving him back down where he belonged. Logan chuckled, but didn’t argue.
He buried himself between your thighs again, tongue pressing, curling, teasing. Every flick sent heat pooling deep in your stomach, every slow, deliberate movement dragging you higher and higher, the tension coiling tight.
Your breathing turned uneven, fingers clutching at the sheets. "Logan," you gasped, your thighs threatening to clamp shut.
He didn’t let you. His hands flexed, holding you open as he devoured you, his pace slow and maddening, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
"You’re close," he muttered, voice muffled against your skin. He pressed a kiss right where you needed him most, almost gentle. "I can feel it."
You bit down hard on your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of begging. But Logan had other plans. He sucked, hard and sudden, and your whole body jerked.
A sharp cry broke from your throat, your hands flying to muffle yourself as heat crashed through you. The tension snapped, pleasure rolling through you in shuddering waves, your body trembling beneath his hold.
He groaned against you, like he was savoring every second, like he lived for this.
Only when you finally slumped back against the sheets, breathless and spent, did he pull away, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.
"Sweetheart," he muttered, his voice thick with heat and satisfaction. "You taste so fuckin’ sweet when you come for me."
Your face burned, but you still shot him a glare. "Cocky."
Logan smirked. "Damn right."
Then he was on you again, lips crashing against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His body pressed flush against yours, his jeans rough against your bare skin, and—
Yeah. He was still hard as hell.
"You got yours," you murmured against his mouth, reaching between you. "Now let me return the favor."
His breath stuttered as your fingers brushed against the hard length straining behind his zipper, but before you could do anything else, his hand caught your wrist.
"Not yet." His voice was rough, strained. "I need to be inside you first."
Your stomach flipped. He reached down, making quick work of his belt, his jeans, shoving them down just enough. You caught the briefest glimpse of him before he was lining himself up, the heat of him pressing against you.
"Fuck," he groaned as he pushed inside, slow, stretching you open inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt.
Your mouth parted, a soft, breathless moan slipping free at the feeling of him—full, deep, overwhelming in the best way.
Logan shuddered. "You feel so fuckin’ good, doll," he rasped against your ear.
Then he moved. A slow, deliberate pull before thrusting back in, setting a steady, deep rhythm. Every movement sent sparks through your system, your fingers digging into his shoulders, your breath coming in soft gasps.
Logan groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "Fuckin’ hell, I missed this."
You clung to him, your body tightening around him in response. His pace faltered for half a second before he growled—and snapped his hips into you. A sharp cry tore from your throat, and Logan grinned. "That’s what I thought."
Then he really started moving. Deep, rough thrusts, dragging you higher and higher, your nails raking down his back as pleasure coiled tight again, building faster this time.
"Logan—"
"I got you," he muttered, voice wrecked. "Come on, sweetheart, let go for me."
You did. The pleasure crashed through you, your body trembling as you came around him, his name falling from your lips in a breathless moan.
Logan groaned, his thrusts turning erratic before he buried himself deep, his whole body tensing as he followed you over the edge.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, just tangled together, catching your breath.
"You’re heavy," you muttered, pushing weakly at his chest.
Logan huffed a laugh but finally rolled onto his side, dragging you with him.
"You love it," he muttered, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple.
You snorted. "You wish."
He just grinned, pulling you closer.
---
You and Logan rarely have date nights. It was hard to find a quiet, empty space in the mansion that you knew no one was going to go into.
Let alone Scott letting you go out at night, even if you were 25.
But, tonight, you had a way around that. Rogue had already gone out with Bobby to the carnival that was in town which gave you a perfect excuse to leave the mansion.
You walked to the front door and barely put your hand on the doorknob when Scott’s voice rang out.
"Where do you think you're going?"
You froze, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral before turning around. "Carnival. Rogue and Bobby already went, so I figured I’d go check it out."
Scott crossed his arms, eyeing you suspiciously. "Since when do you like carnivals?"
You shrugged. "Since now." Scott frowned like he was trying to figure out what was off. You didn’t give him a chance to ask more questions. "You gonna let me go, or are we really about to have a whole interrogation over funnel cakes and rigged games?"
Before Scott could answer, Logan came strolling down the hallway, clearly on his way somewhere—until Scott turned to him.
"Logan, drive her."
Logan blinked. "What?"
Scott gestured toward you. "She’s going to the carnival. Drive her."
Your stomach flipped. You had to fight to keep the surprise off your face. This was perfect.
Logan’s expression didn’t change, but you knew him well enough to catch the slight twitch of amusement in his eyes. "Why?"
Scott gave Logan a flat look. "Because I don’t want her going alone."
"I can handle myself," you said quickly.
Scott ignored you, still looking at Logan. "Just drop her off and make sure she actually goes inside. Then pick her up when she’s ready to leave."
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I’m twenty-five, Scott. Not fifteen."
"And yet, you’re still my little sister," he shot back.
Logan sighed like this whole conversation was exhausting. "Fine. C’mon, kid," he said, jerking his head toward the door.
You clenched your jaw at the nickname, knowing exactly why he used it in front of Scott. But you didn’t argue. Instead, you grabbed your jacket and walked past them, ignoring the smug look Scott gave you like he’d just ensured your safety for the night.
The second you and Logan stepped outside, he let out a low chuckle. "Well, ain’t this convenient?"
You shot him a look. "Don’t be smug."
"Too late."
---
The drive was quiet at first, just the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of Logan shifting gears. You knew Scott had probably expected Logan to drop you off, watch you go inside, then leave. But instead, Logan was taking the scenic route, driving further away from the carnival.
"You know, if Scott ever finds out about us, he’s gonna kill you," you said, watching the streetlights blur past.
Logan smirked, eyes still on the road. "Nah. He’s gonna try."
You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading in your chest betrayed you.
After a few minutes, Logan pulled into a small lot near a bar you both knew was usually quiet on weekdays. He killed the engine and turned to you. "So, what’s the plan, doll? We head in, grab a drink, then pretend you spent the whole night winnin’ stuffed animals?"
You smirked. "Something like that."
Logan leaned in slightly, eyes darkening. "Or… we could skip the drinks and find somethin’ else to do."
Your breath hitched, heart pounding. "Temptin’."
His smirk widened, but he didn’t push. Instead, he just reached for his door handle. "C’mon, let’s make this date look real."
You followed him inside, the warmth of the bar a stark contrast to the cool night air. It wasn’t crowded—just a few regulars, a couple playing pool in the corner, and a bartender who barely looked up as you both walked in.
Logan led you to a booth near the back, out of the way, and slid in across from you.
"So," he drawled, resting his arms on the table, "you gonna let me win you a giant teddy bear later?"
You snorted. "You? Win a carnival game? Please."
His eyes gleamed with amusement. "You doubtin’ me, sweetheart?"
You leaned forward slightly, a teasing smile on your lips. "I’m just saying… those games take skill. Precision. A soft touch. You’re more of a… smash things and ask questions later kind of guy."
Logan chuckled, shaking his head. "You got a real smart mouth, you know that?"
"Yeah, and you love it."
He smirked. "Damn right I do."
The bartender came by, and you both ordered drinks. Logan, of course, got whiskey. You opted for something lighter. As soon as the bartender walked away, Logan reached across the table, taking your hand in his. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and deliberate.
"Been wantin’ to do that all day," he muttered.
Your heart flipped. You curled your fingers around Logan’s, warmth spreading from the simple touch. He never did this at the mansion—not where anyone could see. But here, away from prying eyes, he was different.
"Yeah?" you murmured, teasing, but your voice was softer than you intended.
Logan’s thumb traced lazy circles against your skin. "Yeah." His eyes flicked up, locking onto yours, something unreadable in them. "Kinda hate sneakin’ around all the time."
You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the weight behind his words. "I know."
He didn’t push, didn’t say anything else—just held your hand, like that was enough for now. And maybe it was.
The bartender dropped off your drinks, barely sparing either of you a glance. Logan finally let go, but not before giving your fingers one last squeeze.
You picked up your drink, taking a sip. "So, you actually gonna win me that teddy bear later, or were you just talking shit?"
Logan smirked, reaching for his whiskey. "Sweetheart, I ain’t losin’ to a rigged game."
"You sound awfully confident for someone who doesn’t exactly scream ‘hand-eye coordination.’"
Logan huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?"
"You’re the one dating me."
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, but the smirk tugging at his lips said he didn’t mind one bit.
The two of you sat there, drinking, talking, stealing quick touches when no one was looking. It felt easy—like it was supposed to be like this all the time.
You didn’t know how long you stayed, but eventually, Logan leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms across the seat. "Time to make this date look real."
You raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
"Meaning we go to the damn carnival, you let me win somethin’, and we make sure Summers doesn’t think you were out doin’ somethin’ reckless."
You smirked. "Technically, I am."
Logan snorted, throwing some cash on the table before standing up. "C’mon, trouble. Let’s get you a prize."
---
The carnival was packed, neon lights casting everything in a bright, chaotic glow. The scent of fried food, sugar, and asphalt filled the air, mixing with the hum of laughter and the occasional shriek from a nearby ride.
You walked beside Logan, your fingers grazing his every few steps, but neither of you reached out. Not here.
"Alright, hotshot," you said, stopping in front of a shooting game. "Let’s see if you’re actually as good as you claim."
Logan stepped up to the booth, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. "You doubtin’ me?"
You crossed your arms, smirking. "I don’t doubt that you’re good at a lot of things, but precision? Patience? Not exactly your strong suit."
Logan just grunted, dropping some cash onto the counter. The guy running the booth handed him a plastic rifle, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"You gotta hit all five targets," the guy drawled, popping gum in his mouth. "You miss one, you lose."
Logan spun the rifle in his hand like it was nothing, raising an eyebrow at you. "Watch and learn, sweetheart."
You huffed a laugh, but then—
Crack.
The first target dropped.
Then the second.
Then the third, fourth, fifth—so fast the guy running the booth barely had time to register it before the last one clattered down.
Logan set the rifle down with a smirk. "Told ya."
You blinked. "Okay. That was… impressive."
"You're damn right it was." He turned to the booth guy, jerking his head toward the line of stuffed animals. "Pick whichever one she wants."
You looked at the rows of plush toys, pretending to think before pointing at the most obnoxious, oversized teddy bear in sight.
Logan’s smirk faltered. "Really?"
"You said I could pick," you reminded him, grinning.
He muttered something under his breath but took the giant bear when the guy handed it over, tossing it at you. "Happy now?"
You hugged the ridiculous thing to your chest. "Very."
Logan shook his head, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You’re gonna be the death of me, doll."
You grinned, looping your arm through his as you walked. "Yeah, but what a way to go."
---
By the time you got back to the mansion, it was late. The house was mostly quiet, save for the faint murmur of the TV in the common room.
Logan parked in the driveway, shutting off the engine. Neither of you moved right away.
He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "You know we can’t keep this up forever."
Your chest tightened. "I know."
Silence stretched between you for a beat. Then he spoke, "you worth the trouble, sweetheart?" Logan’s voice was softer, rough in a different way.
You turned to him, meeting his gaze. "You tell me."
His lips twitched, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he reached over, curling a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a slow, deliberate kiss.
It was different from earlier—less teasing, less rushed. Just warm, steady, like he was trying to say something without actually saying it.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a second before he exhaled and pulled away completely. "Go on. Before Summers comes lookin’."
You rolled your eyes but grabbed the stupidly large teddy bear and climbed out. As you walked inside, you didn’t have to look back to know Logan was watching.
---
"Jesus, sugar. That’s a big teddy bear," Rogue said, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed, smirking.
You flopped onto your bed, the ridiculous oversized bear landing beside you. "Yeah, well, I earned it."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did you? ‘Cause I got a feelin’ Logan earned it, and you just picked the biggest, most obnoxious thing you could outta spite."
You grinned, not even trying to deny it. "He said I could pick."
Rogue let out a snort and stepped inside, flopping down next to the bear and poking its fluffy face. "So, how was date night with our favorite bad decision?"
"Great, actually," you admitted, hugging a pillow to your chest. "We got drinks, he won me this monstrosity, and Scott still thinks I was eating funnel cake and riding the Ferris wheel all night."
Rogue let out a dramatic sigh. "That boy is so clueless, it’s almost sad." Then she shot you a look. "But you know he’s gonna find out eventually, right?"
Your stomach twisted, but you shrugged. "I know."
She tilted her head. "And?"
"And… we’ll deal with it when we have to."
Rogue studied you for a moment, then smirked. "You’re fallin’ for him."
Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, you grabbed the teddy bear and smacked her in the face with it.
She cackled, shoving it away. "Oh, sugar, you are so screwed."
"Shut up."
"Nah, I love this," she teased. "Big, bad Wolverine gettin’ all soft for little ol’ you. It’s cute."
"He is not—" You stopped yourself, because… yeah. He kind of was. At least with you.
Rogue grinned, smug as hell. "I bet he’s outside your window right now, just sittin’ there, all broody, waitin’ for me to leave so he can sneak in."
You rolled your eyes. "He’s not that predictable."
A faint tap at your window made you both freeze. Rogue's eyes went wide before she burst out laughing, smacking your arm. "No fuckin’ way."
You shot her a glare before pushing off the bed, crossing the room, and pulling the curtain back.
Sure enough, Logan stood outside, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. You cracked the window open just enough to whisper, "Are you serious?"
Logan just smirked. "You gonna let me in, or what?"
Rogue was still laughing behind you. "Oh, sugar, I’m never lettin’ you live this down."
---
“Where’d you get that necklace?” Jean asked, looking over the rim of her coffee mug.
You barely paused as you stirred sugar into your coffee. "Bought it for myself," you said, keeping your tone casual.
Jean hummed, watching you for a second longer before taking a sip. "It’s nice. Simple."
You nodded, fingers brushing over the small silver Earth pendant. "Yeah. Thought so too."
Across the table, Rogue smirked into her cup but said nothing. You could feel her amusement radiating off of her, but you refused to look at her. If you did, you’d probably give yourself away.
Jean, thankfully, didn’t press. She just shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "Well, good for you. You don’t usually wear jewelry."
You forced a small smile. "Guess I’m changing things up."
Rogue let out a quiet snort. You kicked her under the table.
Jean’s gaze flicked between the two of you, like she was debating whether or not to ask what that was about, but before she could, Scott walked in, yawning as he grabbed a cup of coffee.
"You training today?" he asked you, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Yeah," you said. "After breakfast."
Scott nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. He didn’t seem to notice the way Rogue was still fighting laughter or how Jean kept glancing at your necklace.
You exhaled quietly, focusing on your coffee. Crisis averted. For now.
---
Later that day, you found Logan in the garage, leaning against his bike, arms crossed as he watched you approach.
"You know," you said, stopping in front of him, "Jean noticed the necklace."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? You tell her?"
"Nope," you said, rocking back on your heels. "Said I bought it for myself."
He huffed a quiet laugh. "Smart girl."
You smirked. "I try."
Logan reached out, hooking a finger under the chain and tugging you closer. "Y’could’ve just told her the truth."
You gave him a look. "Oh, sure. ‘Hey Jean, thanks for noticing! My secret boyfriend who my brother would literally kill bought it for me. Cool, right?’"
Logan smirked. "I’d pay to see the look on Summers’ face if you ever actually said that."
You rolled your eyes. "You just wanna see him lose his shit."
"Maybe," he admitted, voice full of amusement.
You sighed, shaking your head. "You are such a menace."
Logan’s grip on the necklace tightened for a second before he let it go, letting his fingers trail lightly over your collarbone. "You still wearin’ it, though."
Your breath hitched slightly at the touch, but you kept your expression neutral. "Yeah. I like it."
His smirk softened, just a little. "Good."
For a second, you just stood there, his fingers still ghosting over your skin, the garage quiet except for the distant hum of voices from the mansion.
"You gonna let me take you somewhere tonight?" Logan asked, tilting his head slightly.
You raised an eyebrow. "Somewhere like…?"
Logan shrugged. "Just a ride. No missions, no Scott breathin’ down your neck. Just us."
Your stomach flipped. You hadn’t had much alone time with him outside of stolen moments in your room or hidden corners of the mansion.
You hesitated for half a second before nodding. "Yeah. Alright."
Logan’s smirk widened. "Good girl."
Your face heated, but you ignored it, turning on your heel before he could say anything else. "I’ll meet you out here at eleven," you called over your shoulder.
"Don’t be late, sweetheart," he said, and you didn’t have to look back to know he was grinning.
---
The night air was cool against your skin as you stepped off the mansion’s back porch, your pulse quickening with every quiet step. You stuck to the shadows, moving with practiced ease—this wasn’t your first time sneaking out. But it was always a gamble. Always a risk.
Still, that didn’t stop the thrill from curling low in your stomach.
Logan was already waiting by his bike, leaning against it with his arms crossed, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. He exhaled, watching you with that familiar smirk—half amused, half something darker.
"Took you long enough," he muttered, flicking the cigar away.
“I said eleven," you shot back, coming to a stop in front of him. "It’s eleven."
Logan glanced at his watch like he didn’t believe you, then shrugged. "Close enough."
You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, he grabbed the helmet from the handlebars and held it out. You hesitated for half a second before taking it, slipping it on as Logan swung a leg over the bike.
"Hop on, doll."
You did, settling in behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist automatically. He was warm, solid beneath your touch, the scent of leather and faint cigar smoke clinging to him.
"You gonna tell me where we're going?" you asked, voice slightly muffled behind the visor.
Logan reached down, gripping your thigh just enough to make you feel it. "Nope."
Your stomach flipped. Before you could push for an answer, the engine roared to life beneath you, and then you were moving—tearing down the quiet backroads, the wind rushing past, the world blurring into streaks of light and shadow.
You didn’t ask again. You just held on tighter.
---
Logan didn’t stop until you were well outside of town, pulling off onto a secluded dirt path surrounded by thick trees. The headlights cast long shadows against the trunks as he killed the engine. The night settled around you, quiet except for the faint hum of crickets and the cooling tick of the bike.
You pulled off the helmet, shaking out your hair before looking around. "This is either really romantic or the start of a horror movie."
Logan snorted, stepping off the bike. "Guess that depends on your definition of romantic."
You smirked, handing him the helmet as you stood. "So? What’s the plan, tough guy? You bringin’ me out here to bury a body?"
He huffed a laugh. "Nah. Just figured we could use some real privacy for once." He jerked his head toward a break in the trees. "C’mon."
You followed him down a small path, stepping carefully over the uneven ground. After a few minutes, the trees thinned out, revealing a stretch of open sky and a lake shimmering under the moonlight.
Your breath caught for half a second. You hadn't expected this.
Logan glanced at you, catching the look on your face. "Not bad, huh?"
You crossed your arms, pretending to consider. "It’s alright, I guess."
He smirked. "Brat."
You grinned but didn’t argue. Instead, you kicked off your shoes and stepped onto the wooden dock that stretched over the water, feeling the worn planks creak under your weight. Logan followed, hands in his pockets as he leaned against one of the wooden posts.
For a while, neither of you spoke. The air was crisp, the reflection of the stars rippling over the water’s surface. It was quiet. Peaceful. Something you didn’t get much of at the mansion.
Then Logan’s voice broke the silence. "You ever think about leavin’?"
You blinked, turning to him. "What?"
He kept his eyes on the water. "The mansion. The team. All of it."
You frowned. "Why would I?"
Logan let out a breath, running a hand through his hair. "Dunno. Just seems like sometimes you’re tryin’ to be somethin’ you ain’t."
You stared at him, caught off guard. "And what exactly do you think I am?"
Logan’s eyes finally met yours, something unreadable in them. "Someone who don’t belong in a cage. No matter how nice they make it look."
Your stomach twisted. You knew what he meant. The mansion was safe, sure. But it was also rules, expectations, eyes always watching. You’d built a life there. A good one. But was it really yours? Or was it just the one Scott expected you to have?
You swallowed, looking away. "And what about you?"
Logan tilted his head slightly. "What about me?"
"Do you ever think about leaving?" You asked.
A pause. "All the damn time."
Something about the way he said it made your chest ache.
You didn’t know what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. Logan let you take it, his fingers curling around yours automatically.
"You don’t have to stay, you know," you murmured. "If you really wanted to go."
Logan exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "Yeah, doll. I do."
Your throat tightened. You knew what he meant. He wasn’t staying for the team.
He was staying for you.
For a moment, you just stood there, his hand warm in yours, the lake stretching out endless and quiet beneath the stars.
Then, finally, Logan smirked. "This is gettin’ a little too sentimental. You wanna go for a swim or somethin’?"
You snorted, shaking your head. "It’s freezing."
"So?"
You rolled your eyes. "You go first, tough guy."
Logan didn’t hesitate. He kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his jacket, and before you could even process what was happening—
Splash.
You gasped as water sprayed onto the dock, the surface rippling wildly where Logan had disappeared. You stared at the disturbance for half a second before Logan popped back up, slicking his hair back with both hands. "Water’s fine."
"You’re a liar," you laughed.
Logan grinned, then suddenly shot out an arm—grabbing your ankle.
"Logan—!"
Too late.
You yelped as he yanked, throwing you completely off balance. The last thing you saw before you hit the water was his smug, grinning face. The cold was a shock—freezing against your skin, stealing the breath from your lungs as you surfaced, gasping.
"You asshole!" you sputtered, shoving wet hair out of your face.
Logan just laughed, the deep sound echoing across the water. "You deserved it," he said, treading water.
"You’re dead," you threatened, lunging at him.
Logan dodged easily, still grinning. "Gotta catch me first, doll."
Oh, it was on now.
You lunged again, cutting through the water as fast as you could, but Logan was quick—too quick. He moved just out of reach every time, smirking like the smug bastard he was.
"That the best you got?" he taunted, backstroking away like he had all the time in the world.
You narrowed your eyes. "You realize I have powers, right?"
Logan’s smirk widened. "Then use ‘em, sweetheart. Let’s see what you got."
Oh, he was asking for it. You didn’t hesitate. You focused, letting energy pulse through your limbs, giving yourself a boost as you surged forward. Logan’s eyes barely had time to widen before you tackled him, sending both of you under the water.
Bubbles rushed around you, the muffled sound of movement filling your ears as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, dragging him down with you. You knew he could hold his breath longer than you, but you weren’t planning on letting this turn into a real fight.
Instead, you twisted, using the momentum to flip him over so you were the one pinning him, hands braced against his shoulders. Even underwater, his smirk was there—amused, challenging.
You rolled your eyes and pushed off, breaking the surface first.
A second later, Logan popped up in front of you, shaking water from his hair. "Not bad," he admitted, voice rougher than usual from the cold. "Didn’t think you had it in you."
"Yeah, well, you underestimate me a lot," you shot back, treading water.
Logan’s smirk softened just a little. "Never."
Your breath hitched, pulse stuttering for a second, but before you could dwell on it, Logan moved—closing the distance between you in one smooth motion. His hands found your waist under the water, steady, warm despite the chill.
"You’re shivering," he murmured.
You rolled your eyes. "Because you threw me in a freezing lake, dumbass."
Logan huffed a quiet laugh, but instead of teasing you again, he just pulled you closer. The warmth of him was instant, the solid weight of his body pressing against yours. His hands slid up, fingers tracing along your ribs, your back. You swallowed, heartbeat thudding as his lips brushed against your temple, then down to the edge of your jaw.
"You wanna get out?" he murmured, voice low.
You nodded, but neither of you moved. Instead, Logan dipped his head, lips ghosting over yours, slow and teasing, like he was giving you a chance to pull away. Like he wanted you to.
But you didn’t. You closed the space, pressing your mouth against his, your fingers slipping into his wet hair as he kissed you back—deep, slow, like he had all the time in the world.
The water rocked around you, your bodies drifting, the night air cool against your skin. It was dangerous, reckless—standing there like this, kissing in the open where anyone could find you.
But you didn’t care.
Not tonight.
Eventually, Logan pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get you warmed up."
His smirk was back, but there was something else in his eyes now—something softer, something real.
You exhaled, nodding. "Yeah. Okay."
Logan didn’t let you go as he led you back toward the shore, his grip firm, steady. Like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.
a few things - one, reader's powers are energy manipulation. two, i think it's in the next part, but reader has a degree in something nature/environmental related. it's not heavily described though. anyways, enjoy part 2!
saw a comment that misspelled “kind gesture” as “kind jester” and am now imagining a beautiful world where we praise good samaritans by calling them kind jesters. good on you, you gentle fool. you’ve made the world a sweeter and sillier place.
