Ships: Logan x Reader
Words: 1,182
Warnings: None
Category: Angst
Synopsis: You attempt to help with the fallout after Jean’s death.
***
The mansion was quiet as you crept through the usually bustling halls. The only light which dared cut through the darkness was that of the moon. The only sound which penetrated the unending corridors was the creeks of the dark oak floorboards, dislodged by time. Somehow the muted silence seemed disrespectful to the memory of such a vibrant woman whom had held so much light.
That was until the light enveloped her whole like a star going supernova, the traitorous part of your brain reminded you as continued padding along the desolate hallways.
Jean Grey had passed only hours previous and it was obvious that the entire school felt it. The children returned to their rooms early and the staff shortly after that. None of them were willing to discuss the tragedy just yet, least of all the three men whom she had meant most to.
Xavier had retreated to his study under the pretence that he had work to attend to.
Scott had made a B-line to his room, slamming the door in his wake. The children had murmured about the sobs that had been emanating from behind the locked door.
Logan, however, had left. You had watched him drive out of the gates from the security of your room. Part of you itched to stop him but the more sensible section of your brain reminded you that people grieved in different ways. That despite the fact that he was a danger to himself at that very moment he could do no lasting harm.
So you had waited at the window, hugging your knees close to your chest. Your sobs eventually subsided when the moon had passed its peak; by then you were empty. Empty of pain, empty of caring.
You were simply existing.
That was, however, until the low rumble of Scott’s motorcycle, adorned with Logan, reached your ears. You wiped your eyes of any remaining wetness and watched as Logan stumbled inside the mansion.
That was what had brought you here, clad in nothing but a pair of boxers and a baggy shirt referencing something that was now irrelevant. You stood in front of Logan’s door; your fist raised a hairs breath away from the worn wood. You let out an exhale of emotion that you didn’t even realise you were holding.
You knocked on the door knowing that if you hesitated you would never be able to face him.
There was a beat of silence, rustling within the room, a grumble of something intelligible before the door opened a slither.
“Who is i- oh. It’s you,” Logan murmured in his gruff tone. The hard stench of alcohol drenched your nostrils as you looked up at his towering figure.
“It’s me,” You attempted to muster up a smile but failed miserably. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Logan laughed hoarsely though there was no mirth to it. His voice was like sandpaper against your ears. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Logan turned and you pushed into the room.
The room was bathed in darkness. The clothes from the day lay tossed haphazardly in the corner. Logan padded to the closet where he briskly picked up a bottle of whiskey before turning and moving to sit on the bed. He took a deep swig and sighed deeply upon swallowing. He was in a rather embarrassing state of undress but you decided to ignore it.
Logan determinately avoided your gaze, once a man with no weaknesses, now subdued to a wolf with no pack. He looked out the window; his dark eyes glistened in the pearly light. He bit his lip, shaking as he gripped the bottle in his hands. Despite the blackness that surrounded you both you could see his fists were bone white.
“It’s my fault,” Logan breathed. He hid his face in his palms and drew in a great rattling breath. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, no, no, no…” You allowed the words to softly drift from your lips as you swiftly closed the space between you. You hunched over and took Logan’s face in your hands.
He was shaking as he dropped the bottle of alcohol on the floor with a mundane thump. It rolled into the existential shadows.
You shushed him and slowly caressed your thumb over his cheek, feathering over his facial hair as you did so. He continued shaking and muttering to himself with interspersed hiccups breaking up the torment.
“Logan, look at me,” You uttered in a hushed tone. He continued staring just over your shoulder. “Look at me.”
Finally he turned his usually harsh eyes on you, only now they resembled a wounded animal rather than the bitter man who fought against the world which had wronged him.
“It’s not your fault, okay? You did all you could. She sacrificed herself,” You watched his face, half in darkness. “None of this is your fault.”
A gulp before a brisk nod. You knew there was no real conviction behind it but it would do for now. You exhaled deeply, allowing a breath you had no idea you were holding. You pursed your lips and watched as Logan leant his forehead into your stomach.
He stayed like that for what may have been seconds or a millennia, all you know is that eventually he let out a strangled sound and a drop of water had landed on your foot. You allowed your heart a moment of pain, knowing that it was only a fraction to what the man knelt before you was feeling.
Logan’s hands slowly snaked around your waist, giving you an ample amount of time to draw back if you wanted too. You did not. He held you there finally allowing himself to shatter wholeheartedly. He shook uncontrollably and muttered nondescript words that you didn’t bother to try and decipher.
You allowed your finger to thread through his dark hair, tracing soothing patterns on his skull as he held you close.
You had no idea how long you stayed there but eventually you drew back from Logan when his sobs subsided. You felt a tiredness and grief that sank into the very marrow of your bones. He attempted to hold on but swiftly allowed you to step back.
You crouched down before him so his bloodshot eyes met with your own.
“You need sleep,” You said as you pushed a strand of hair out of his face. Logan didn’t have the energy to retaliate.
You straightened yourself and moved away, silent.
You had barely walked more than a few steps before Logan’s hand had caught your own, halting your process to the door. You turned to face his form silhouetted in moonlight.
“Can you…” Logan immediately seemed to be regretting his outburst. “Can you stay? I just- I don’t want to be alone.”
In that moment he reminded you of a small child, afraid of the dark and the monsters lurked under his bed. Despite that you knew that the real demons which tormented him were never ceasing and followed him where ever he wished to go.
Was reading through some imagines and found the part of Logan/Wolverine piggybacking a Drunk Reader adorable :33
Inspired from @ellana-ravenwood and her work “In Love With Wolverine” http://ellana-ravenwood.tumblr.com/post/158830033363/in-love-with-the-wolverine
I haven’t drawn Wolverine before and found it frustrating to draw his facial (there’s so little details of Logan’s face, god-damn it). Turned out pretty well for drawing Wolverine for the first time ever.
Done with graphite, pen, and copic. Edit photo in photoshop.
He smiled softly and put his hands on your waist “I’’ll become father of most beautiful child of most beautiful woman ever’’. You can’t help and found yourself hugging him so tight as your life depended on him. He responded by holding you more closely and peppering kisses on your face.
sorry if this isn't the best it will get better i have a idea! Thank you all. <3
7:23. Class begins with Professor Storm. Today we were learning about Mutant History. All the mutants that were publicly proud to be so. Which is crazy to me. Being a mutant wasn’t always easy. Especially when you had two mutations. Telekinesis and earth element control. Professor Grey and Professor Xavier work with me daily for them both, they’re only concerned about one though. Ever since I was 13, they’ve taken me in and taught me.
Lately they’ve been dealing with a new mutant that came in with Rogue, and Magneto. Rogue is really gnarly, actually. She tells me she came with a man, more animal than anything from what I hear. She’s into him, I can tell.
“Y/N, are you listening?” Professor asked, as I giggle with Rogue about some joke she said. I quickly straighten up.
“Yes, ma’am.” I shot back.
She nodded and walked back to the whiteboard. She continued to talk about the great inventors and even Presidents that were secretly a mutant. Interesting to say the least.
Professor Grey walked in.
“Good evening, Storm. Can I borrow Y/N for a while?” She said with a perfect smile. I stood up and fixed my flannel button. We walked out the door and downstairs where Cerebro was. Nobody has seen it but the professors. I walked in to the metal doors.
“Is there something I did wrong, Professor?”
“Call me Jean.” She said sweetly, “And no, nothing is wrong. Just a check-up with Charles.”
As I walk in I notice a tall man with cigar hung by the lips. His brows furred together, gripping his cigar with his fingers.
“Who’s this?” he ruffed.
“This is Miss Y/F/N,” Professor Xavier rolled to us, “Welcome. Please, take a seat.”
I sat on the side of the tall medical bed, as Jean put stickers on my head. The unknown man made heavy eye contact with me.
“Y/N, this is Logan.” Jean introduced. He held his hand out, I stared at the three scars between his knuckles, then to his rough face. Taking a long stare at his combed hair and patchy beard, I then looked down.
“She doesn’t talk much, not with new people at least.” She said to Logan, “Its okay, he won’t hurt you. He’s a friend” she then said to me.
I looked back up at him, then spoke. “Hello” came from my mouth quietly. A quick but sweet smile at me. Followed by his cigar being pressed to his mouth.
The regular tests were done; same questions were asked.
“What’re you guys doing to her?” Logan asked as if he’d been waiting to ask.
“She’s undergoing tests to make sure she’s not developing more than she should be. She has two mutations as opposed to one.”
“What does she have?” He questioned further
“You know, I’m right here.” I spoke aloud, not completely meaning to but not entirely regretting it.
He looked at me for an answer, confused with my talk, I suppose.
“I have telekinesis and I can control the elements. I guess they just go hand in hand. His face was stuck in a confusion.
“She’s very talented, Logan. I am sure you could learn a few things.” Charles said with a wink to me followed by a smile.
“If you know what she ha- you have, then why poke and prod? She’s just a kid.”
“She might just be a child but she has level 4 abilities. She needs to be watched.”
“You’re trying to control her.” Logan protested.
I slowly move the ring off my finger and swirl it around my hand. Listening to the bicker was somewhat interesting. I knew what I had was powerful and that it needed to be tamed. I was dangerous and I didn’t really see it as them controlling, just looking out.
Jean butted in. “I’ve been working with her to concentrate her abilities and learn to control them. Not the other way around. She has made fantastic progress.”
They let me leave and told me to be back tomorrow. Logan said something, then followed me out.
I tried to ignore him and walk to my room. I didn’t have to share, thank god.
“Hey, kid!” He hollered. I turned around to face him.
“Yes?”
“I. uh, just wanted to make sure. You know. That you’re okay.” He mustered out
“I’m okay. Thank you.” I gave a smile.
“Well, good.” He said after a second of silence.
“You’re not good at making conversation, yanno.” I pointed out.
“I, don’t deal with children.” He looked down. Maybe he’s not always bad.
“I'm not a child, I’m in my twenties, thank you very much. I laughed at how incredibly awkward this man was. I studied him and started walking away. He stood there, like a deer in headlights then walked back to the room.
I walked to my room and Rogue was sitting by my bed.
“Y/N!” She exclaimed, I like to think she was my best friend and I was hers.
“Hey girly, what’s up?”
“I have so much to tell you.” She smiled.
“Yeah, me too. Actually, about the guy you came with. Logan?” Her face turned.
“Logan? What about him?”
I tried to even fathom what he was trying to do earlier. Protect me? Stand up for me? “Well he was just asking a lot of questions about me, really. Then asked if I was okay after my tests”
“Oh, I have news about Bobby! yanno, the guy I have a thing for…. Ice Guy? Yea, we’re getting lunch” It then seeped I that I would be eating alone.
“OOooohhHH, I know him. That’s great! I'm so excited for you.” I swallowed my anxiety of being alone and became happy for my friend. We talked a little bit more until it was time for lunch.
She met bobby outside of my room, and I slowly became third wheel before silently excusing myself to the bathroom.
I walked in, and there stood, Maggie Trout. A nasty girl with a nasty attitude. She could multiply herself. All 3 of her was standing in front of the mirror trying to figure which lipstick looked best. Typical, honestly.
“What’re you looking at, bitch” She emphasized. I was not one for violence but I wish in so many ways that I could drop rocks on her perfectly curved face. Strike her with lightening. Smother her in vines. But, being a GREAT Samaritan I am I will refrain.
“No, just trying to go pee.” I shot back.
“Sorry,” as she filled the bathroom stalls up with 7 copies of herself, it then left no room, “they’re all taken.” Her devious, cunning smile was enough for me to grip my fists together. I shut my eyes so I could no longer see the face haunting my bad side. I felt the ground rumble, as the sky went black through my eyelids.
I heard a soft voice, “cut it out, prick!”
Why she decided to egg this on, I had no idea. But I was not having it, gripping my teeth, I march towards her. An arm grips me tightly and pulls me back, both arms now wrapped around my torso as the ground continues to shake.
I grind my teeth as angry tears fall down my face, my breathing now heavy.
Jean who was now in my head, softly cooed a child’s rhyme that continued to calm me down.
“Y/N I need you to take a deep breath.” She said with a gentle voice. I still struggle silently and less aggressive to break free, which then became no struggle. The hands I was being held with was not Jeans, but with Logan’s.
He picked me up and carried me to the down stairs office. I was approached by Storm, Jean and Professor Xavier.
Storm came first with a soft yet assertive touch to her voice.
“You can’t do things like that, Y/N, it’s dangerous.”
“I thought it was pretty bad ass” Logan laughed, which came to a halt as they all gave him looks. I was most disappointed to let down Jean. She had almost become a mother figure to me. She said nothing but simply looked down with arms crossed.
I knew she was upset and it broke my spirits.
Charles looked at me for a second or two, reading me, I guess.
“I understand your rage, your hurt and how you feel, Y/N. But that was a dangerous thing you did. If it happens again, there will be grave coincidences. Is this understood?”
I nodded my head with an apology shortly after.
“You may go.” Professor said. And with that I walked out.
Logan’s POV
“Why not, Charles?”
“She doesn’t need a protector; she needs to learn to control herself.”
“Tell me I’m not the poster child of learning to control yourself” I said with a sharp tone.
Charles gave me a look, along with Scott.
“If you can give me your word you can keep her under control, Logan. You may watch her and help her. If by a month’s time, nothing has improved then we will take matters into our hands and take care of it.”
Maybe Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters wasn’t always bad.
Prompt(s): "Do you know how hard I’m trying not to kiss you right now?", "Dance with me."
Pairing: Logan x Reader
Words: 651
Hope you enjoy it! And as always, feedback is appreciated. :)
You'd lost count of the amount of times your pager had gone off in the last hour. Working at Jam Pony didn't leave much time to phone Logan back quickly. You could just hang around talking like the rest of them, but you'd do anything to not have Normal use those three words you hated; bip bip bip. But you've been working all day, and whether Norm liked it or not, you were off on a lunch break.
You enter Logan's apartment, finding him in his office. You stand behind him with a little distance between you, watching him work for a second. Before Logan pipes up, “I've paged you like a dozen times. Where have you been?”
“At work. I do have a life you know.” you replied, as Logan spins around in his office chair. “What did you want anyway?” He gets up off his seat, the exo-skeleton attached to his legs whirs with almost every movement.
“Nothing. I just wanted to see you.” he responded, smirking ever so slightly. He stands opposite you, hands in his jeans pockets. The corners of you mouth turned upwards as you give Logan a soft smile. Logan towers above you, but that doesn't stop your eyes fixating on him. After a brief pause, he leans forward, “Dance with me.” he whispered, close enough so you can feel his breath on your cheek.
A smile slowly covers your face, “Dance? You do realise you usually need music for that?” you chuckled.
Logan quickly looks around the room, realising there's no music. He holds his finger up, “Wait there.” he advises, before rushing off. After a few moments, some soft Jazz plays and Logan rejoins you in his study. He takes your hand and pulls you closer to him, moving slowly together with the music. You could still hear his exo-skeleton whirring when he legs moved. After a few minutes of dancing, his exo-skeleton powers down, and the weight of him is completely in your hands.
“Woah.” you exclaimed.
“Well, isn't that just great.” Logan sarcastically commented, feeling slightly disappointed that his legs failed him again and he didn't get to dance with you.
“Are you okay?” you queried, setting him down gently on the floor so you didn’t have to hold the weight of him your arms.
“I'm fine but I'm gonna need my wheelchair back.”
You retrieve Logan's wheelchair, wheeling it back into his office. Crouching down, you help him back in, feeling slightly worried about him. He chuckles softly, a small smile plastered on his face, followed by you giggling to yourself, finding it all a little amusing. You nervously look down, worrying that too much eye contact with Logan would be awkward, but Logan lifts your chin back up with his hand, keeping his eyes firmly on yours.
"Do you know how hard I’m trying not to kiss you right now?"
“Then what's stopping you?” you asked, a gentle grin slowly appearing on your face.
You stare into each others eyes for a moment, before you lean in towards Logan, slowly and passionately kissing him. He moves his hand slowly to your cheek, before making it's way to your head, tangled between strands of hair. You slowly break off the kiss, giving him another soft smile, which he reciprocates. Tugging his arm, you check his watch, “Shoot, I gotta go but I'll be back tonight. If you want? And maybe we could finish that dance.” you tell him, rising to stand on your feet and rushing to grab you rucksack.
“Yeah, sure. See you later.” he replied quietly. You give him a final peck on the cheek before leaving him on his own. The hour lunch break you took from work was totally worth it, and all that was getting you through the rest of the day was getting back to Logan.
SUMMARY | A storm is approaching, so you and Logan decide to hide in his cabin, waiting for the end of it.
RATING | Teen +
WARNINGS | Sexual tension, fluffy Logan, wearing his clothes
A storm is barreling in, a menacing force of nature. You and Logan had set out earlier for a peaceful hike near his cabin, but the sky darkened ominously and rain began to pour, drenching you both as you rushed back. The wind howls and distant thunder rolls, chilling you to the bone.
Logan stands in the doorway, his powerful frame filling the space. The storm rages behind him, but his presence is a comforting anchor.
"Get inside," he calls out over the roar of the tempest, a little hay firmly gripped between his teeth. "You’ll freeze to death out there."
You share a close friendship with Logan, so the concern in his voice feels like a warm embrace despite the storm.
"Thanks." You reply, your voice shaky as you hurry into the cabin, escaping the fierce rain.
"No problem." He grunts, his gaze following you as you slip inside and he shuts the door against the storm. He throws the hay away.
The cabin is small and rustic but exudes a cozy charm, with warmth emanating from the crackling wood stove. The air is thick with the comforting scents of wood smoke and musk.
"You’re soaked through," Logan observes, his eyes scanning you from head to toe.
You glance down, realizing how drenched your shirt and jeans are. You draw a deep breath, feeling the chill.
"It’s okay. I’ll just sit by the fire and dry off." You say, sensing his concerned gaze.
"You’ll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes," Logan says firmly, his voice brooking no argument. He steps closer, offering you a large towel, oversized sweatpants, and a t-shirt that dwarfs you. "Change into these." He orders and you obey.
You nod gratefully, accepting the clothes and towel, their warm, earthy scent a reminder of Logan's presence.
"Can I use the bathroom to change?" You ask, clutching the items to your chest.
"Yeah, it’s down the hall," he replies, pointing towards a narrow corridor. The bathroom is small but tidy, with the essentials—shower, toilet, and sink. "Help yourself to anything in there—shampoo, soap, whatever you need." He calls through the door.
You smile, feeling the warmth of his care as you make your way to the bathroom, ready to shed the cold and damp and embrace the comfort of his home.
“Thanks.” You say warmly before stepping into the bathroom. As you close the door, Logan mutters something under his breath. He turns his attention back to the wood stove, adding another log and stirring the flames to life. The air is filled with the scent of his soap and shampoo, mingling with the rich aroma of burning wood.
You decide on a quick shower to warm up. Turning on the water, you revel in the soothing warmth as it streams through your fingers. You shed your drenched clothes and step into the shower, the hot water enveloping you in a comforting embrace. The steam rises, fogging up the small mirror above the sink.
Outside the bathroom, Logan listens to the muffled rush of water, his imagination wandering to what you must look like under the cascade. He can't help but wonder how you appear, the water slicking down your bare skin.
You finish your shower quickly, savoring the fragrance of his shampoo and soap. You close your eyes, enjoying the lingering scent as you wash away the chill. Turning off the shower, you dry off and put on his oversized clothes. The sweatpants hang loosely around your hips, and the shirt swamps your frame, the collar slipping off one shoulder.
Emerging from the bathroom, you’re enveloped once more by the comforting scents of woodsmoke and musk.
“Feelin' better?” Logan’s voice is both curious and warm as his eyes linger on you, particularly the bare skin of your shoulder.
“Much better.” You reply with a chuckle, making your way to the fireplace. You hold your hands out to the flickering flames, warming them.
“Good.” He grunts, watching you with a hint of admiration as you approach the fire.
Logan’s gaze lingers on the way the shirt hangs off you and the way the sweatpants ride low on your hips. His eyes trace the exposed skin of your shoulder, and he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to touch you, to run his rough fingers over that tender skin.
“So…” you begin softly, breaking the charged silence. “How about we watch a movie?” You suggest, feeling the tension between you.
“Yeah, sure.” he replies, his voice gruff but intrigued.
He grabs the remote from the cluttered coffee table and collapses onto the old, worn couch in front of the fire. He pats the space beside him, inviting you to sit.
You smile and settle next to him, curling up and hugging your legs.
The couch is creaky but surprisingly comfortable. Logan turns on the TV, the screen’s glow mingling with the firelight, casting a warm, flickering light around the room.
He flips through channels, finally landing on a late-night horror film.
You roll your eyes, a playful exasperation in your expression. "Of course, you picked a horror movie."
“What’s the matter?” Logan grunts, catching your eye roll. “You scared?”
“Not at all.” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him and trying not to grin.
“Sure, you’re not.” he retorts, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Logan leans back into the couch, his arm casually draped across the back cushions behind you.
“But if you get scared, don’t go clutching onto me.” He teases. Damn.
“Don’t worry about that. It’s not going to happen.” You scoff, sinking deeper into the couch.
“We’ll see about that.” He murmurs, his gaze fixed on the screen but his attention also on you.
The film unfolds with all the usual clichés—an unsuspecting group of teens exploring a dark, abandoned house while a demonic killer lurks.
As the movie progresses, Logan steals occasional glances in your direction, keenly observing your reactions.
Despite your efforts to stay composed, Logan can see the tension in your body. Your lips are parted, and your fingers clutch the old sofa tightly.
He can hear the quickening beat of your heart, and a smirk tugs at his lips.
“You’re scared.” He says, his voice a low rumble of amusement.
“I’m not.” you insist, your voice breathless as your eyes remain glued to the screen. A slightly frown forms on your forehead.
“Really?” Logan chuckles, shifting closer on the couch and narrowing the gap between you. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he observes your reactions. “Your heart’s racing, and you’re clutching that sofa like it’s your lifeline.”
“Are you watching me or the movie?” You retort, trying to mask your nerves.
“Both.” He smirks, his gaze flitting between the flickering screen and your tense form. He takes in the way your chest rises and falls with each quick breath, the way your lips part, and the way your heartbeat seems to echo in the quiet.
“And your heart’s pounding like a drum.” He chuckles, his eyes lingering on you with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
You glance sideways at him, a flush of embarrassment creeping up your cheeks as you chew on your lip.
“Admit it.” He prods, his tone playful yet insistent. “You’re scared of the movie.”
He inches even closer, his broad chest brushing against your shoulder, sending a jolt through you.
“I—” Your voice falters, unable to form coherent words as you feel the warmth of his chest pressed against you.
Logan’s grin widens, feeling your breath catch in your throat as he closes the distance between you. He leans in, his chin brushing against your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your neck.
“Go on, what were you saying?” He murmurs, his voice a tantalizing whisper.
Jesus Christ, you think, gulping as the proximity makes your heart race even faster.
“That I’m not scared.” You manage to mumble, your voice quivering like a frightened puppy. The warmth of his breath against your ear sends tingles down your spine.
“You’re a terrible liar.” He whispers, his voice low and rough. His body shifts even closer, the heat radiating from him mingling with your own.
“And you smell incredible.” You confess without thinking, your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes meet his, wide and slightly startled.
Logan’s grin grows broader, his hand brushing against your arm, sending an electric thrill through your skin.
“You think so?” He asks, his voice still hushed and throaty.
“I do.” You nod softly, feeling an intense longing.
“Careful.” He purrs, sensing the rising tension. He angles his body towards you, his chest and thighs pressing against your side. His hand, resting on the back of the couch, trails up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
You find yourself momentarily breathless, overwhelmed by the closeness. The sensation of his body pressed against yours makes you feel dizzy, and you cling to the couch, your pulse racing.
Logan’s hand continues its slow journey up your arm, his touch electrifying. You can feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own, creating a charged space between you. The flickering light from the TV dances across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.
Your breath comes in short, uneven bursts, every inhale sharp and shaky as the tension mounts. The world outside the cabin seems to blur, leaving only the two of you in this cocoon of warmth and desire.
“Logan,” you whisper, the word barely escaping your lips. Your eyes glued on the screen now.
His gaze softens slightly, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing gently against your ear as he speaks. “What is it?”
The proximity makes your heart race even faster, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. You tilt your head slightly, your lips brushing against his as you respond, “I—”
Your words trail off as you close the final gap between you, your lips finding his in a tentative, lingering kiss. It starts gentle, exploratory, a soft mingling of warmth and affection. But as the seconds stretch, the kiss deepens, fueled by the rising intensity between you.
Logan’s hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he kisses you with a slow, deliberate passion. The world outside fades completely, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours.
When you finally pull away, breathless and flushed, Logan’s eyes are locked onto yours, his expression a mix of tenderness and longing. The quiet of the cabin wraps around you both, the storm outside a distant echo to the moment you’ve shared.
You smile softly, your heart still racing, feeling both exhilarated and comforted by the kiss. Logan’s gaze softens, and he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your face.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice a gentle whisper.
“Yeah,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “I’m more than okay.”
With that, Logan’s smile widens, and he pulls you close again, his arm draped around you as you both settle back into the couch. The TV continues to flicker in the background, but it’s now a mere backdrop to the warmth and connection that fills the space between you.
“You know,” He begins, his voice low and filled with warmth, “this storm outside… it’s kind of perfect.”
You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Perfect for what?”
He smirks, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “For something a little more… spontaneous.”
Logan's gaze drifts from the flickering flames to your face, his eyes dark with unspoken desire. He leans in slowly, each movement deliberate, his breath warm against your skin. The intensity of his stare makes your heart race, and the world outside seems to fade into a distant, forgotten echo.
With a tender yet urgent touch, Logan brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. His lips hover near yours, teasingly close. The air between you crackles with electric tension, each heartbeat louder than the storm’s fury.
“Do you feel it?” He whispers, his voice low and husky. “The way everything feels like it’s on the edge?”
You nod, your breath catching in your throat. Logan’s lips finally meet yours in a kiss that is both fierce and tender, a collision of passion and longing. The kiss starts slow, a gentle exploration that deepens as the firelight glows hotter, mirroring the heat between you. His hands cradle your face, pulling you closer, his touch sending shivers through your body.
The kiss intensifies, becoming a fevered dance of lips and tongues, each movement more urgent than the last. The storm outside rages on, but inside, you’re enveloped in a shared warm intensity. Logan’s hands slide to your back, pulling you firmly against him, his embrace a promise of closeness and connection.
As the night deepens and the storm’s fury fades to a distant murmur, Logan wraps you in his arms, holding you close with a tender, protective embrace. His touch is a gentle caress, his hands and lips drifting across your skin in soft, teasing strokes, each contact a whisper of affection that stirs a sweet, lingering heat between you.
You revel in the comfort of his closeness, the warmth of his body melding with yours as you nestle into him. The intensity of the evening’s moments gives way to a soothing tranquility, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breath becomes a lullaby.
Exhausted from the hike and the emotional whirlwind, you drift into a peaceful slumber on the couch, drowned in the warmth of the fire and the soothing cadence of Logan’s presence. As you succumb to the gentle embrace of sleep, the storm outside becomes a distant, comforting backdrop to the serene, intimate world you’ve found together.
“I don’t know why you’re overreacting,” you said, completely exasperated and just wanting this conversation to be over, “it was just a small cut, it’s practically healed by now.”
“Are you insane, Y/N”, Your brooding boyfriend, Logan, looked at you incredulously, “A small cut? I sliced right through your arm!”
“Ok let’s get this straight, it was just a flesh would and it probably won’t even leave a scar. And besides, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”
If you were being perfectly honest with yourself the cut he left on your outer bicep was mostly likely going to leave a nasty scar. It hurt like hell too, but you weren’t about to tell him that. He was having another night terror when he extended his claws and caught your arm. As soon as he heard you scream out in pain he retracted them and got you patched up. After that he wouldn’t come near you, much less hold you or show any kind of affection.
“What if the next time this happens I snag an artery or cut into one of your organs huh? Then what? I heard Charles tell you if my hand was turned over just the slightest I could’ve sliced right through your heart.”
“But you didn’t and I’m fine just like I was fine when I took a bullet to the stomach. This is pretty much an isolated incident.”
“We both know damn well this isn’t the first time this has happened, but I’m going to make sure it’s the last.” He was referring to the scar on your left thigh from when you caught him off guard and he shot one of his claws through a meaty chunk of your leg. Or maybe he was talking about the scar that stretched across your belly from when he had another war flashback a couple weeks ago.
“What are you saying, Logan?“
“I’m saying I’m not gonna keep putting you in danger just because I can’t control myself.”
“I’m not the one we should be worrying about. I’m more concerned with how we’re going to get these blood stains out of the sheets.” You said half joking and trying to bring a sense of casualty back to the conversation.
“This is not a joke, Y/N! I need to be more careful or this isn’t going to work.”
“Logan, I know what I signed up for when I said I loved you and I’m not changing my mind because I sustained a few minor injuries.” You were serious now. If Logan really thought he was a danger to you, there’s no telling what he might do. You tried to come up to him and snake your way into his arms, but he jerked away from you like you were covered in acid.
“I have to go or I’m gonna be late,” he said not looking at you, “I’ll be back later.” Something about the way he said it made you think otherwise. He was never really concerned with being on time. If he wanted to be somewhere then he’d make an effort to show up. You wanted to go after him, but you had a class to teach and you were already running late too.
Your class could tell you were distracted as you went through your lesson plan for the day. Every now and then you shot quick glances to your phone hoping to see a text or a missed call from Logan which was useless.
“He just needs time to understand,“ a voice in your head spoke as your last class of the day filed out, but it didn’t sound like yours,“he’s just trying to protect you.”
“Thank you, Charles, but he’s not doing anyone any good by avoiding me.”
“That may be so, however Logan has always needed to do things a certain way.”
“Well not anymore.”
You loved that man and he loved you and you weren’t going to let him keep acting like an ass just because he thought he was going to hurt you. If you didn’t track him down and make him see sense then he’d keep thinking he was going to something he shouldn’t every time his emotions took over. Thankfully it wasn’t too difficult to track him down. He was standing outside, overlooking the school grounds when you walked up behind him.
“I’m just trying to protect you.” He said without looking at you. His gruff voice was a comfort you longed for all day.
“This isn’t something you can protect me from, Logan, because if I want to be with you then I’m ready to take everything that comes with it. Why are you making this so difficult? Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”
“What-no of course not,Y/N, if I lost you because of me then what am I going to do,” he had you by the shoulders now and you could feel him shake at the thought of losing you, “I can’t lose someone else. I just need to keep you safe okay?“
“And how do you plan on doing that? Are you gonna put me in a bubble every time you want to kiss me or suit me up whenever I want to hang out with you? I know exactly what I agreed to when I said I was in love with you for the first time and I’m not backing out now. You didn’t fall in love with me because I’m a delicate flower. No, you fell in love with me because I’m the only one that knows how to take your shit and still think you’re the best damn thing in the world at the end of the day.”
He was speechless. No one ever talked to Logan Howlett like that and lived to tell about it. His eyes bore into yours as he assessed whether you were serious or not. The determined glint in your eye and your hard set jaw probably clued him in that you have never been more serious in your entire life.
"Then I guess I’ve got a lot of making up to do, don’t I?” He asked, loosening his grip on you and grabbing you by the waist instead.
“You’re damn right you do.” You said against his lips as he finally kissed for the first time in what felt like weeks.
Logan was the most stubborn man you ever met and everything about him just made you love him more and more each day. He was so crass and heavy handed with everyone else, but when he was with you it was like he was handling a delicate piece of art. You didn’t know he was capable of such gentle touches until you had the chance to be with him in the most intimate ways. To you, he wasn’t some jerk with a bad attitude, he was a man who had seem too many tragedies in his long life that you made it your life’s mission to make sure you filled his with as much bliss as possible.
