A Sweet Morning (Logan/Wolverine x Fem!Mutant!OC)
Notes: Established Relationship, Fem!OC, fox mutant, healing factor (like 2/3 the strength of Wolvie's).
This is a short fic my bestie wrote for me as a Christmas gift and she gave me permission to post/share! (CreatableMarvels on Etsy)
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Logan always said the cabin was too quiet.
It sat deep in the woods, wrapped in pine and snowfall, far from people and closer to peace than he’d ever admit wanting. The quiet used to bother him, too much room for memories, for ghosts. But decades ago, the quiet changed. Because Sybil filled it.
This morning, Logan woke to the softest sound in the world: the gentle thump-thump of a fox tail wagging against the bed.
He didn’t open his eyes right away. He didn’t need to. He knew exactly what he’d see, sunlight filtering through the thin curtains, dust motes dancing, and Sybil curled beside him, her fox ears twitching as she slept. Her tail, fluffy and warm, was draped over his thigh like it belonged there.
Logan shifted just enough to wrap an arm around her waist, careful not to wake her. His knuckles brushed the soft fur at the base of her tail, and, like clockwork, it wagged harder.
He smirked. “Gave yourself away, sweetheart.”
Sybil hummed sleepily and pressed her face into his chest. “M’not awake,” she murmured, voice warm and drowsy. “Tail has a mind of its own.”
“Yeah,” Logan said softly. “So do you.”
She laughed then, quiet and bright, and finally looked up at him. Even after all these years, Logan felt it, the same gentle ache in his chest. Her eyes were warm, always watching him like he was something precious instead of something dangerous. One of her ears had folded over awkwardly in her sleep. He reached up and fixed it.
Sybil smiled. “You always do that.” “Drives me nuts when it’s crooked.”
“That’s adorable,” she teased.
She leaned up and kissed his cheek, slow and unhurried, like they had nowhere else to be. Her tail flicked again, wrapping a little tighter around his leg.
They stayed like that for a while, just breathing, just existing. Decades of marriage had softened them both. Logan wasn’t the sharp-edged weapon the world remembered when he was with her. With Sybil, he was just a man who woke up slow and held his wife close because she made the nightmares stay gone.
Eventually, Sybil slipped out of bed, tugging the blanket with her. “I’ll make breakfast.”
Logan watched her pad across the wooden floor, tail swaying behind her, ears twitching at the sounds of the forest outside. He loved the way she moved, unafraid, unhidden. She’d spent years teaching him that there was nothing wrong with being what you were.
The smell of coffee soon followed. Logan joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter while she cooked. She wore one of his flannels, sleeves too long, tail poking out the back like it had claimed the shirt as its own.
“You’re staring,” she said without turning around.
“Married to you all these years,” he replied. “Still not used to how lucky I am.”
She turned then, plate in hand, and bumped her forehead gently against his chest. “You saved me, Logan.”
He snorted. “Pretty sure you saved me.”
Sybil smiled and reached up to cup his face, thumbs brushing the scars he never bothered hiding. “We saved each other. That’s what matters.”
Logan bent down and kissed her properly this time, slow, tender, full of everything he couldn’t say out loud. Her ears flicked, tail wagging wildly, and she laughed into the kiss.
They ate breakfast together at the small table by the window, snow falling quietly outside. Sybil rested her feet in his lap. Logan absentmindedly brushed her tail, the way he always did.
And for once, no wars, no running, no pain, just a quiet cabin, a long marriage, and a love so steady it felt eternal. Logan thought, not for the first time, that if this was all the life he got, it was more than enough.
After breakfast, Sybil insisted on doing the dishes though Logan refused to let her do it alone.
“Logan,” she said, nudging him with her hip, “if you hover any closer, you’re gonna end up drying the same plate three times.”
“Just makin’ sure you don’t break nothin’,” he muttered.
She laughed, ears twitching. “I’ve survived wars, hunters, and you when you have forgotten me. I think the plates will be fine.”
Still, she let him stand behind her. Logan rested his chin on the top of her head, arms wrapping around her waist while she worked. Her tail swayed lazily, brushing his legs in a slow, familiar rhythm. It was one of those quiet rituals they’d never talked about but always returned to, Logan holding, Sybil grounding him.
When she finished, she leaned back into him fully. “Snow’s nice today.”
He glanced out the window. The forest was blanketed in white, the world hushed and clean. “Yeah. Good day for not doin’ much.”
Sybil’s eyes lit up. “Then come outside with me.”
Logan raised a brow. “You’re askin’ a man with metal bones to go play in the snow.”
“I married a man with metal bones,” she corrected, grabbing his hand. “And I want to go for a walk.”
He sighed, pretending to grumble, but let her pull him toward the door. She bundled herself up, carefully tucking her tail through the back of her coat. Logan wordlessly draped his scarf around her neck, fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, brushing lightly against her skin.
The cold hit them as they stepped outside, crisp and clean. Sybil inhaled deeply, ears perking up. “Smells like pine and snow.”
Logan watched her with that same quiet fondness he always did. “You always notice things like that.”
“Someone has to,” she said, smiling up at him. “You get distracted by other things.”
He grinned a bit. “You are rather distracting darlin’.”
They walked slowly through the trees, hand in hand. Sybil stopped every now and then to admire frost on branches or the tiny tracks of animals in the snow. Logan stayed close, instinctively positioning himself between her and anything he couldn’t see, even though they both knew nothing out here would dare bother her.
At one point, she slipped on the ice. Logan caught her instantly.
She laughed, clinging to his jacket. “Still got those reflexes.”
“Always will,” he said softly. “For you.”
She looked at him then, really looked at him, and her expression softened. Sybil reached up, brushing a thumb along his jaw. “You know,” she said, “I don’t remember much of my life before you.”
Logan frowned slightly. “That a good thing?”
“It’s a wonderful thing,” she said without hesitation. “Because every memory that matters has you in it.”
His throat tightened. He pulled her into a firm hug, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other resting on her lower back to keep her close. Sybil melted into him, ears flattening contentedly. They stayed like that until the cold finally chased them back inside.
Later, the fire crackled softly as they curled up on the couch. Sybil lay half on top of him, tail draped across his stomach like a warm blanket. Logan absentmindedly stroked her hair, listening to her breathe, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart beneath his palm.
“Thank you…for choosing me. Every day.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Ain’t a choice anymore,” he said quietly. “It’s just who I am.” Sybil smiled, eyes fluttering closed. Her tail gave one last happy swish.
Outside, the snow kept falling. Inside, two souls who had survived everything rested in the kind of love that didn’t need saving, only cherishing.
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