ethanhoewke

[ethanhoewke]

Dear Santa

✧ Logan Howlett x female!reader x Wade Wilson

✧ summary: Your best friend and roommate Wade is a little lonely over the holidays, third-wheeling with you and Logan the entire time. But the holidays are all about giving, so you and Logan decide to fulfil some of the more sexual wishes on Wade’s wishlist. Or: You have a threesome with Logan and Wade.

✧ warnings: smut 18+ (oral sex, piv sex, cum eating, frotting kinda, liittle bit of ass eating (f rec); deffffinitely attraction between Wade and Logan but the focus is on the reader), Christmas mention (just for the seasonal vibes, not the religion obv. wanted to make it neutral originally but sorry I needed Christmas vibes specifically!!), this is my first time writing Wade beyond a few lines, idk if I did him justice but either way this was so fun to write! gorgeous dividers by @dollywons <3 moodboard to be added lmao

✧ word count: 4.7k

Wade Wilson likes to flirt. That’s no secret. 

But he’s been even more flirty recently, in the weeks leading up to the winter holidays. In fact, he’s been so flirty that you had to check in with your boyfriend Logan to make sure that he doesn’t mind. 

And no, Logan doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys watching how Wade makes you squirm with the sexual remarks that you have to pretend are below your level but you actually quite enjoy. 

It started when you bought yourself some cute Christmas pyjamas, pink and with a cheesy pattern on them. 

“You look so cute, I could just eat you out,” Wade said as soon as he saw you in it. 

You sat down between him and Logan on the sofa, ready for your first December movie night, and you shared an unsure look with your boyfriend. 

“Don’t you mean you could just eat her up?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Wade considered it for a moment. “Hmm, no. I said the right thing.”

You spent the rest of the night flustered, leaning into Logan and hiding your face in his neck as deeply as you could. 

-

The next time it happens is when you get out of the car after buying some festive decorations for your shared apartment with Wade. 

You’re getting the shopping bags from the back when you notice him still in the driver’s seat, leaning over to inspect the place you were just sitting. 

“What are you doing?” you ask Wade, cheeks heating up. 

“I was just checking if you were sitting in a pile of sugar, cause that ass is looking sweet.”

-

“You know why they call me Wilson?” he asks you over breakfast one time. 

“Because that’s your last name?”

“No, because I will soon be between your legs.”

You take a bite of your food, humming, “That one still needs some work.”

Wade nods, “I know, still experimenting on the execution. Thanks for the feedback.”

-

“Does my tongue taste funny to you?”

You roll your eyes at Wade. “Ew.”

“No, I mean it, I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you at least look at it?”

“Oh!” you hurry towards him. 

-

“You know, baby angel,” he tells you one afternoon, “I think you’re the only one who can still be on Santa’s nice list despite being so naughty.”

Your eyebrows inch closer together, “How am I naughty?”

“Your bedroom is right next to mine, Miss likes-being-spanked.”

“Oh…” is all you manage to say. 

“But from what I hear in there you are a good girl, so that checks out with Santa’s nice list.”

-

It’s not strange per se that he’s acting this way, but it still finally makes sense when you find Wade’s Christmas wishlist. 

You’re in his bedroom to get back a hoodie of yours that he borrowed ‘because it smells like you’ and he wanted to cuddle it while he sleeps. He said it so sweetly that you couldn’t say no, though you hope cuddling is really all he did to it. 

You find the piece of paper jammed between the bedframe and the mattress, and it only catches your eye because of the messy ‘Dear Santa’ scribbled at the top. 

Wade is always graphic, but reading his wishlist still makes a tingle run up your spine. All that’s on the list is things he wants to do with you and to you, all of sexual nature, of course. Logan is involved too. 

You read Wade’s wishes and get giddy, running to your bedroom to show Logan. 

You’ve been struggling to find a meaningful Christmas gift for Wade, so this is going to be perfect. Now all you have to do is wait for the next horny joke – and you’re sure that won’t be long.

-

It’s Christmas Eve and you and Logan are watching some show when Wade comes in. It’s toasty warm, the fairy lights reflecting on the tv screen during every dark scene. You’re sitting between Logan’s spread legs with your back against his chest.

Wade sits down next to you two, eyes glued to your legs, bare underneath an oversized graphic t-shirt. You give him a minute before he says something.

His words come three seconds later.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

You lean to the side to glance up at Logan, who gives you a subtle nod. You settle back against his chest, “Sure.”

“Wait, what?” Wade’s jaw drops.

You giggle, humouring him, “What do you wanna do when you visit me between the holidays?”

He scrambles for an answer, still surprised at your words, “Since Logan is my little honey badger,” your boyfriend huffs from behind you, “and honey badgers are named after their favourite food, I wanna know if your honey is as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

You laugh but Logan grumbles, “If you wanna eat her pussy, just say that.”

Wade rolls his eyes, holding a hand to the side of his mouth, “Honey badgers are no fun,” he says to you, “But yes, I wanna eat your pussy.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling.

His eyes light up. “Okay? Like, you’re giving me your consent okay?” 

“Yes, Wade,” you giggle, watching him fall to his knees in front of the sofa as he gently pushes your legs apart. His fingers against your skin immediately make you feel warm.

Before Wade can get to your panties, Logan reaches around from behind you and pulls the hem of your shirt down, blocking Wade’s view. “Ah,” he chides, “No fucking manners. You kiss her first before you get between her legs.”

Wade doesn’t have to be told twice.

Your lips meet with a fervour exactly like you would expect from Wade. You figured he’s been lonely the last few weeks, single and alone while you and Logan are still in the honeymoon phase. You’re glad to provide some love for Wade. He deserves it.

While Wade almost bites your face off, Logan’s hands find your hips, gently circling the skin there, and you can practically feel the heat from your underwear radiating in the little space between you.

Logan knows your body so well by now that he can tell immediately when you’re getting needy. He reaches around you, taking hold of Wade’s jaw, interrupting the kiss.

“Now,” Logan commands.

“Don’t boss me around, the only one who can boss me around is this little thing,” Wade’s hand trails up your knee. You giggle, trying to suppress the moan you want to let out.

You spread your legs for Wade as he gets back on the carpeted floor, hands smoothing up your legs, playing with the hem of your panties. You want to tell him to stop teasing, the butterflies in your stomach almost too much to bear.

He laughs, “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the self control to tease you like this.”

You lift your hips for Wade to pull your panties all the way down your legs, grateful that he doesn’t comment on how wet they already are. You don’t comment on how he stuffs them in his pocket.

Logan helps Wade spread your legs further, two sets of strong hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. You’re getting wetter by the second.

“This is even better than seeing Hugh Jackman oiled up and shirtless with ‘Like a Prayer’ playing,” Wade says when he sees your pussy.

“What?”

“Huge who?”

Wade ignores the questions. “God,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit, and you resist the urge of your legs to weakly fall shut from the pleasure.

He takes his time with you, eating your pussy like a five course meal, making out with it like he never wants it to end. Wade moans against your skin even more than you moan from the pleasure.

He fucks you with one finger, then two, while he licks your clit, but it’s still not enough. Luckily, your boyfriend recognises your need.

“Quit squirming, will ya? So needy,” Logan scoffs, lifting your hips off him for a moment to pull down his sweats, taking out his hard cock. You give him a desperate nod before he can even ask anything, and Wade helps position you so that Logan can slowly sit you down on his dick, all three of you sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out.

“Mhmm, good girl. Much better. Was startin’ to get cold anyway.”

You nod mindlessly, pussy already pulsing around your boyfriend. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wade mumbles. He licks your clit, your pussy stuffed full with Logan’s dick.

Logan lifts your shirt over your head, discarding it in a corner of the sofa, playing with your tits from behind you. Wade looks up at your chest, tongue on your puffy clit, and moans so hard his eyes almost roll back. He brings a hand up to squeeze your tit, leaving his hand there.

“You close, baby?” Logan asks, able to feel your every squeeze around his cock, and you nod, grabbing his knee for support.

“Yeah, pretty girl, cum for us,” Wade parts with your pussy for just a split second to say this. Logan’s hand comes down from your boob to gently press down on the space between your abdomen and your pussy, and you feel everything three times more intensely.

Wade begins to suck on your clit, and that’s your undoing. You whimper as you try to fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s big cock just a little bit, squeezing around him, as Wade sloppily licks your clit to draw out your orgasm.

All of Logan’s willpower trying not to cum flows into your hips as he grabs you there. You feel a warm load of precum in your pussy, but he manages to resist the urge to cum, pulling you up and off his dick as soon as you stop pulsing with the aftershocks.

All three of you are out of breath. Logan turns you towards him to press a big kiss to your mouth, pinching your cheek, “You really needed to cum, hm? Did so well.”

“That’s three Michelin stars right there,” Wade says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it afterwards.

You blink at Wade.

“Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey?” he offers. 

“Michelin? I knew that guy…” Logan says, shaking his head a moment later, “You wanna keep going?”

You nod eagerly.

Your boyfriend smirks, “Let’s see if Wade can make you cum too.”

Wade puts a hand on his chest as he stands back up, hard dick tenting his sweatpants, “Je m’excuse. Were you not just there for me licking her pretty pussy until she came?”

Logan shrugs, “I was the one inside her, bub.”

Wade huffs, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

You smile, pulling Wade’s face closer to kiss him again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks in between kisses.

“Yes, but not yet.”

Logan completes your thought, “Not before I cum in her.” You smile at his possessiveness.

Wade puts his hands on his face, “Woah, wait. Did you two plan this? That’s so hot.”

You’re already on all fours, Logan getting on his knees behind you, rubbing his cock between your pussy lips. You sigh in pleasure, pawing at Wade’s sweatpants and pulling him to the sofa by the drawstrings.

He moans, pushing his sweats down and getting in front of you, “Well, merry fucking christmas to me.”

You kiss Wade by his hips and support yourself with a hand on his thigh. He gets the tiniest little bit harder, a brief flex of his dick, now fully hard. A drop of precum drips down, and you only just catch it with your palm before it lands on the sofa. 

Logan smiles behind you, “Can’t have him ruinin’ the sofa, hm, baby?”

You nod lazily, and look up at Wade, “Can I?”

“Holy shit, baby, of course you can.” Wade looks you right in the eyes when you open your mouth to take the head of his cock past your lips, moaning when you taste him.

Logan begins to fuck you at the same time, slowly at first. You suck Wade’s dick in the rhythm of Logan’s thrusts, slow but firm, that move you forward a little bit every time. Somehow, you manage to still look up at Wade with a little fucked out look in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks your wet pussy just how you like it.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Logan mumbles, “taking us both so well.”

Wade stutters “Yeah, yeahh, knew this would feel good but,” he needs a second to recalibrate when you move your head down to lick his balls, heavy cock falling against your cheek, spilling precum. Wade’s eyes fall shut as his head drops back.

He continues after a few moments, “but this feels like heaven.”

When you move back to his dick and take him into your mouth all wetly, Wade cums instantly. The pleasure of having him pulsing against your tongue and his cum spilling down your throat makes you clench around Logan’s cock so hard that he moans. 

“Yeah, baby, cum for me,” Logan sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, and with Wade’s dick still throbbing against your tongue, you cum too. You feel Logan letting go, fucking his cum into your pussy that’s squeezing him with the pulse of your orgasm.

 You all come down from your shared high giddy and giggling, Wade’s hand smoothing over your cheek, Logan’s hand soothingly running down your spine.

Wade’s dick, still hard, flexes in front of your face when you look at him, sticking out your tongue, his creamy cum covering it. “Saved you some,” you say carefully, making sure to not let any of it spill from your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, bending down to kiss you and messily make out. Some of his cum spills from between your mouths, dripping down your chest.

Logan manhandles you to turn you around onto your back, and you bounce a little when you land. Then he bends down to lick Wade’s cum off your chest in one broad lick. You’re too excited yourself to pay attention to Wade’s reaction. 

Logan moves to rest your head in his lap by his lower thighs, cock hard again and close to your face. He nods between your legs, telling Wade, “there you go. She’s wanted this for a long time”

Your head snaps straight up so that you’re looking at Logan, your gazes meeting. Your skin heats up all the way down to your chest and Logan smirks, “It’s okay, princess. This pussy’s still mine.” He reaches between your legs to deliver a gentle slap to your pussy, collecting some of his cum from inside you on his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You suck them eagerly, and then sit up briefly to pull his face into a kiss.

“I love how we taste together,” you tell him.

Wade gets between your legs and tuts at Logan. “What an animal, doesn’t even clean up after himself,” he huffs and promptly licks your pussy. He smirks up at you and Logan, “I love how you two taste too.” 

“Need you to fuck me, Wade.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Fucked my fist listening to you fucking so many times, gave myself friction burn.”

You and Logan share a smile. You know this; he talks to himself while he’s jerking off – you’re not sure if he’s aware.

Wade lines his dick up with your pussy, pushing your legs up against your chest, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit until you’re squirming. When Wade fucks you, he fucks you slowly, tauntingly yet desperately.

Logan lazily plays with his cock, slapping it against your cheek and your tongue from time to time, your mouth eagerly chasing after him, but he’s just teasing you, wants you to focus on Wade.

“Doin’ such a good job, baby,” Logan says from above you, stroking his hand over your cheek.

“Thank you, peanut,” Wade says, eyes closed, thinking Logan is talking to him. You both let him remain in that belief. 

Wade is lost in the feeling of your warm, wet and tight pussy around his dick, languidly fucking you as your pussy starts to squeeze around him more and more as you get closer to your own orgasm.

“God baby, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Can’t last much longer”, Wade rasps, playing with your clit. But it’s messy, and Logan can tell it won’t be enough for you. He bats Wade’s hand away and circles your clit instead.

You cum before Wade, moaning as your pussy clenches around him, triggering his orgasm. Your back arches as pleasure flows through your belly and spreads throughout your whole body, Wade’s hips desperately chasing to keep that heavenly feeling until he stills inside you while he’s bottomed out.

“Still haven’t made her cum,” Logan says, with a teasing smile.

Wade looks up, “I was the one inside of her, bub.”

You roll your eyes at their teasing each other, but you don’t care as long as it’s about your pleasure. You don’t care who made you cum.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Wade says, pulling out, “wanna see if that ass is really made of sugar.”

You laugh as you get on all fours, Wade pulling your hips in place. He bends down and licks your pussy where he just came in you, swallowing some of his cum. 

Then, he grabs your ass so hard your cheeks spread. Wade licks around your tight hole, and you wrap your hand around your boyfriend’s hard dick. In this position you’re close. Logan bends down to give you a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as the tip of Wade’s tongue pushes inside you.

You can’t deny that it feels good but you’ve never let Logan’s mouth stay near your ass long either. You squirm so that Wade moves away from your hips, and he gives you ass a teasing slap as he sits back up.

“Definitely made out of sugar,” he concludes.

Just when Wade is about to stand up, some more of his cum drips out of your pussy as you involuntarily clench around nothing, and he stuffs his face back between your legs. He sits back up with cum in his mouth, ready to kiss you, but you shake your head, looking up at Logan.

Your boyfriend pretends to be unaffected, but you can see behind it.

“Can he?” you ask Logan, and he agrees to it. You grab his jaw and open his mouth manually, biting your lip as you look at Wade. Logan’s skin is hot under your touch.

“Here you go, open up,” you beam at Logan, watching as Wade holds his jaw all tenderly, spitting his own cum into Logan’s mouth. You hold your breath as you wait for them to kiss, but the moment doesn’t come.

You visibly pout when they pull away without making out.

“I know, sugar bear, me too, but Peanut’s not ready yet,” Wade shrugs.

You press a quick kiss of encouragement to Logan’s lips, and he and Wade are on you again within the second, but you need a break after your orgasms. But that little exchange, their lips almost close enough to kiss, turned you on so much that you want to see more of them.

You tell them to sit together, facing each other, as close as they can. Their muscular thighs are tangled around each other’s hips, Logan’s leg resting over Wade’s on one side, vice versa on the other one. Their dicks are close enough to touch with just a little bit of assistance.

“Can I?” you ask, kneeling in front of the sofa.

“Can you what, princess?” Logan bites his lip.

“Rub your dicks together?”

“Yeah, but come here. Don’t wanna see the face it’s attached to.” Logan lies down and lifts you on top of him, your pussy in his face and your upper body by their pushed together crotches.

“Oh pfft, you know you love it,” Wade comments.

“He does,” you kiss him for reassurance. Logan is obviously into Wade, he just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet.

Logan begins to lick at your pussy, tongue playing with your clit. “Don’t. Can’t focus,” you warn with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

You wrap one hand each around their cocks, just jerking them off for a few moments.

“Don’t make it so suspenseful, sugar bear, or I’ll cum from the anticipation alone.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you shrug with one shoulder, smiling down at their throbbing dicks in your hands.

As much as you’d love to see Wade cumming all over himself before you’ve even started, you have other plans. You let some of your spit drip down over their tips, jacking them off a bit faster, hearing their breaths stutter.

“Peanut, you’re really missing out not being able to see her. She’s so gorgeous.”

“I know she is, Wade.”

You smile at their compliments, lowering your head to trail your tongue between their cocks, paying more attention to your boyfriend first, then to Wade. They taste of your pussy and their precum, wetting your tongue with their taste.

Playing with them for a bit, you rub their dicks together, jerking them off at the same time.

“You need some assistance?” Wade asks, sitting up more and moving his hips. All you have to do is hold your boyfriend’s dick in place as Wade grinds against him, rubbing his cock against Logan’s for a few moments.

“God that feels good, wanna cum,” Wade groans.

“Off,” you tell him, smiling when his hips still in defeat. You tease them both a little longer, rubbing their tips together until their precum mixes and they’re both close, but you don’t let them cum. 

You get off them, telling them to stand up while you sit on the sofa facing them, leaning back a little.

“Which one of you wants to cum on me first?” you ask, voice sweet and angelic. 

They both start jerking off immediately, and you almost drool at having these two tall, muscular men stroking their dicks right in front of you – and for you – fighting over who gets to drain their balls for you first.

It’s Wade who cums first, a string of obscenities leaving his mouth as he jerks his dick to orgasm, painting your stomach white with his cum. Logan isn’t far behind, telling you what a pretty girl you are as he cums over your belly and tits. Their cum mixes, and it becomes impossible to tell whose cum landed where.

You sit up to lick your boyfriend’s dick clean, then Wade’s, then you lie back, puffing out your chest.

“Can one of you get wipes to clean me?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly that’s not what they’re going to do. They get to their knees simultaneously, starting to lick their cum off you, licking you clean.

They sit down next to you afterwards, you sandwiched between them. They lift one leg of yours each over their lap, touching you all over, putting their hands between your legs.

“Such a good girl for us, hm?” Wade says.

Your boyfriend agrees. “Did such a good job, baby.”

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum for Logan and me?”

You nod lazily, all blissed out already, “yes please.” Your eyes fall shut at how good it feels, and at some point you can barely tell who is kissing you, whose hand it is playing with your nipples, or whose fingers are inside your wet pussy.

You cum for them, clenching hard around the fingers inside your pussy as another hand grabs at your knee to keep your legs apart. When you open your eyes again after a few moments, both men are looking at you lovingly, and it’s Logan who slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, delivering a few gentle, smoothing circles over your clit.

You grab his wrist to bring his fingers up to your face, looking him in the eyes, at how they light up when you suck his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, no matter how often he’s seen you do it.

“You’re such a lucky bastard, honey badger,” Wade smiles, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

You innocently smile at Wade, “I’d say I’m quite lucky too.”

-

You end up cuddling in your and Logan’s shared bed, all fucked out of your minds, freshly showered but exhausted to bits. 

“All in all, a successful Christmas Eve,” Wade says, making you giggle.

You force yourself from your warm and cozy position between them when you remember Wade’s list, grabbing it off your bedside table, along with a pen.

Wade’s cheeks redden in recognition at the piece of paper, “You found that? That was just me writing fanfiction before bed one night.”

“We wanted to give you a nice gift,” Logan grumbles.

“Yeah,” you agree, “We didn’t want you to feel like you were third-wheeling all throughout the holidays.”

Wade smiles one of his sweet smiles, “Thank you, guys. You’ve made this little guy,” he points at his face, “and especially this big guy,” he points at his crotch, “very happy.”

“Let’s see if you got all your wishes.”

Dear Santa,

I’ve been an exceptionally good boy this year, my kill count is at a measly 34. I think I deserve a few things. Here are my wishes for Christmas this year:

Eat out Logan’s girlfriend

“You know she has a name, right?” Logan huffs.

“Of course, but the writer didn’t want to have to use the dreaded y slash n.”

“What?” you cringe.

“Nothing, keep reading.” 

Eat my or Logan’s cum out of her pussy

Sword-fighting with Logan while his girlfriend supervises

Cum eating contest off her body with Logan 

Cuddle with them

“What genius came up with this?” Wade grins.

You roll your eyes, “We had to do some interpreting, but we got everything, right?”

Surprisingly, it’s Logan who points at the last wish, “We haven’t done that one yet.”

“Yippie!” Wade claps, “cuddle wuddle time.”

“Nevermind,” Logan says, ready to get up and sleep on the sofa, but you pull him back by the wrist, giggling.

You switch off the lights, putting Wade’s wishlist away – all wishes checked off.

Logan moves closer to you, pressing his chest against your back to cuddle, giving you a loving kiss before lying down.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too.”

You let Wade snuggle up to you as the little spoon, draping your arm over his chest, and he holds onto your wrist with a warm hand.

“You made me a very happy Christmas boy, you know that?”

You laugh, “We love you, Wade.”

“I love you too,” he says, and lies his head down on the pillow. You kiss the side of his head before you pull the blanket over yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Wade.”

Just as you’re about to fall asleep a while later, you hear Wade’s voice:

“You know that means Santa’s real, right?”

P.S. Thank you so much for reading <3 Let me know what you liked and reblog to get on Wade’s and Logan’s nice list 🤭😇 and Merry Christmas!!! <3

[ethanhoewke]

hugh jackman has called himself a whore and a slut on public record and all i can say is we love a self-aware king

[ethanhoewke]

U a girl?

i am nothing

[ethanhoewke]

riding logan .

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ logan howlett x f! reader

summary ;

pretty self explanatory honestly, also a lil (a lot) shorter than my other fics, i’m so sorry y’all but i’ve been going through SUCHH a big writing slump urgh. like i have so many fic ideas (the 17 drafts in my profile speak for me) but i can’t seem to finish writing them and it’s so annoying !! but woohoo, at least i got this small one done🙂‍↕️

logan loves when you ride him.

maybe it’s the way the angle lets him see your pretty face when you’re on top, hips working desperately to bring both of you release, watching as your face mirrored the pleasure your body felt.

or maybe he just loves the warmth of your wet cunt straining to take him, wrapped around him all perfect like it had done countless times in the past — going up and down on his cock in sloppy little bounces and he knew you could only take so much. could tell by the way that after even just a few minutes, he always needed to hold your hips or thighs just to make sure you stayed balanced, could tell by the way your thighs would tremble and could tell by your little moans and pants. your small “lo— ‘s too much.. m’ too tired, can’t take it..” breathless pleads, the way your cheeks would flush up with the heat of sensitive tears filling your eyes.

he knew it wasn’t an easy job for you.

but he laid back and let you do your thing, because, after all — you were very insistent about it. and, he found great pleasure in it, so it didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“you wanted this, baby.” he would grumble, large hands snaking around your waist to squeeze at the soft skin of your ass, kneading the flesh roughly. “you begged to ride me. couldn’t even wait, kept grinding all over me like a damn puppy, and now you’re telling me you can’t take it?” he followed his sentence with a small ‘tsk’, giving an almost punishing, little slap to your ass — it was small, but enough to make your oversensitive body twitch and make you squeak, your desperate heat squeezing around his length instinctively: making him groan as his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips.

sometimes, the man would take pity on you though. after all, you were his pretty doll — he really couldn’t ruin you too much. it would break him to even think he would ever hurt you. you, the only thing he allowed to himself to get close to. the only person who still hadn’t been in danger because of him. no, he had to protect you, take care of you.

with another small ‘tsk’, he would pat your thigh gently, signalling for you to get off his lap. you would slowly get off with a little sniffle and huff, feeling empty from the loss of being full, but knew he would definitely take care of you.

“don’t worry, darlin’. you were good,” he mumbled, leaning down to press a soft little kiss to your nose and tear dampened cheek before taking your smaller body and moving it gently with his hands, shifting you so you could lay your back down on the fluffy bedsheets and get comfortable — his own body instantly coming on top of yours. “now lemme take care of ya.”

[ethanhoewke]

not even the guillotine could stop the head that i would give him

[ethanhoewke]

in my heart they're still on a road trip

[ethanhoewke]

Thinking about Logan with a reader who teaches the youngest mutants at the school. I’m talking about kindergarteners, so if you don't like kids, click off now. This is also purely self indulgent because I teach kindergarten

Anyways can you imagine his reaction when he first meets you? Sweet little thing, bright eyed, wide smile, with brightly patterned dresses and tops and skirts? He wants to ruin you. 

And don't get me started on how he feels when he SEES you interacting with your students. He’s so far gone it isn’t even funny. Seeing you deal with scraped knees, kissing them better, playing with the kids, running from them in some silly game, laughing, cheeks flushed and what the HELL is wrong with him? He’s the big bad Wolverine, but you, with your bright smiles and hopeful eyes and soft, calming voice, have him weak in the knees. 

Plus his breeding kink goes into overdrive, imagining how good you’d look with HIS kid in your arms specifically. 

But holy shit, when you two have been dating a while and you let him sit in on your classes this man is the biggest teddy bear you’ll ever see. Patiently colouring with one kid, while another naps in his lap. Your ovaries will explode, You will get baby fever, There is no escape. 

And the kids LOVE him, asking when Mr Logan is coming back, if he’ll take them on a ride on his motorcycle, if he can come again tomorrow. 

He’ll walk you to your classroom door, press a soft kiss to your mouth (ignoring the EWWW’s from any early students) and leave you with a see you later.

[ethanhoewke]

[ethanhoewke]

[ethanhoewke]

Emergency Contact (logan howlett x f!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

wolverine/logan howlett x f!reader Word Count: 8.5K Rating: E

Summary: You, an actress, believe you're concealing a secret effectively, but your new driver, Logan, sees right through you. Each time he picks you up, he notices the bruises and the pain you're trying to hide. Over time, Logan's quiet concern creates an unexpected bond between you.

Warning: oldman!logan, human reader, slow burn, language, angst, implied domestic abuse, masturbation (logan in the shower), mentions of alcohol and intoxication, emotional abuse (mean names towards reader), rough manhandling, violence (logan beating the shit out of your boyfriend), sexual tension, mutual pining, pet names, flirting, feelings, logan & laura being father & daughter (yes, it requires a warning because they are cute), jealousy, dirty talk (filthy logan), possessiveness, descriptions & flashbacks of explicit smut, implied oral sex (f receiving, logan is a munch)

A/N: I’ve never written oldman!logan so I’m nervous. We don’t get enough of Laura so she’s in this story – no Charles, in my universe he’s already passed away... ;( Also thank you to this queen @nicksolemnlyswears who doesn’t even participate in the Logan fandom and still reviewed the Spanish for me. Gracias my wifey <3

Thank you so much for reading! If you like this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

+ Logan Howlett / Wolverine Masterlist

xx

Manhattan, New York

You slid into the back seat of the car, shaking off the rain as best as you could. The new driver glanced at you in the rearview mirror, his face set in a perpetual scowl.

The sound of raindrops tap-danced against the car roof filling the silence. You pulled your jacket tighter against you, attempting to shake off the damp chill. Immediately, you recalled that your usual driver was out today, and your team set you up with this guy to drive you to the airport.

You took a deep breath, trying to pierce the awkward atmosphere. "Pretty bad weather we’re having, huh?" you ventured, attempting to keep your tone light.

The man flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror but didn’t respond. His jaw clenched slightly, a sign of irritation. He barely acknowledged you with a grunt, then his eyes become fixed firmly on the road.

Seated in the back, you glanced out the window, watching sheets of rain cascade down, creating a blurred world outside. His eyes were glued to the road, the rain obscuring the view. You could tell he wasn’t not interested in chit-chat, but you decided to press on.

"I mean, it’s like we’re in the middle of a monsoon or something," you continued, peeling off your damp jacket, the cool air of the car made your skin prickle. You adjusted your tank top, feeling the fabric cling to your damp body. Just as you reached up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, the man’s eyes darted from the road to the rearview mirror, his gaze catching on something.

A slight furrow formed between his brows as he glanced at your bicep, where a deep bruise marred your otherwise unblemished skin. You noticed the moment his eyes lingered on the bruise, the weight of his gaze pressing against your skin like the chill in the air. You caught his gaze in the mirror again, "It’s nothing," waving your arm dismissively, though your heart raced. "Just a little mishap with a door. I’m such a klutz,"

The man seemed to calculate his next words carefully, your dismissal hanging between you like a thick fog. "Right," he muttered under his breath, the hint of contempt lacing his tone. It was clear he wasn’t buying your excuse and wanted to return to the safety of silence.

The weight of his words hung in the damp air—the rain was unrelenting, just like the heaviness in his gaze. You swallowed hard, desperate to shift the focus back to anything else.

"Have you lived in the city long?" you asked.

The driver hesitated before replying, "I moved here from Texas not too long ago," he stated flatly.

Curiosity piqued, you leaned forward slightly, your interest piqued. "Oh, really? What brought you here?"

He stole another glance at you in the mirror, this time with a hint of defensiveness. "I’m taking care of someone," he replied curtly, his gaze darting back to the road just as the rain intensified.

Your heart softened with empathy, the remnants of your earlier discomfort fading. "Oh. I see. Is it family?" you probed gently, hoping your tone didn’t sound intrusive.

"I guess," he said, his voice now tinged with an edge.

You nodded, sensing that the topic was sensitive, yet the quietness felt thick in the air. "That must be a lot to handle," you offered with sincerity. "Is it hard taking care of someone?"

He exhaled a sharp breath. "You ask a lot of questions," he retorted, a flicker of annoyance flashing across his face in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, I’m sorry!" you blurted, a touch of embarrassment creeping into your tone. "I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought—"

"Thought what?" he interrupted. "That I’d want to share my life story with a stranger in the back seat of my car?"

You felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny, the awkwardness creeping back in. "I guess I just… talk too much sometimes, especially when I’m nervous." You laughed lightly, hoping to lighten the moment despite the reality of his situation. "I’ll zip it."

"Your choice," he muttered, but there was a begrudging acceptance in his tone. The focus returned to the road ahead, the rain drumming an incessant rhythm on the roof.

A few moments passed in silence, the tension palpable. Then finally, just as you thought there was no point in trying again, the man’s voice cut through the low hum of the car’s engine. "It is hard,"

You realized he was answering your earlier question, but you chose to stay silent. As the droplets continued to pour relentlessly against the car roof, you felt the weight of the silence settle back in, thick as the rain-soaked air outside.

Your heart quickened as you processed his earlier annoyance. It wasn’t just irritation that could surface in a man; you knew all too well the potential for anger to rise, the way it could shift the dynamics of any conversation, any situation. You’d experienced it before— in fact, you had experienced it earlier today… the shift from calm, controlled composure to something darker, something dangerous. So, staying silent felt safer for you.

As the cityscape rushed by, the rain began to ease, its relentless rhythm fading into a gentle patter. The lights of the airport glowed ahead, illuminating the damp asphalt with a promise of escape. You felt the familiar flutter of anticipation mixed with relief as the car rolled to a stop at the airport entrance.

"Thanks for the ride, Logan," you said, shaking off the last remnants of discomfort.

Logan's eyes flickered back to the rearview mirror. "I never told you my name," he remarked slowly.

"Well, my team set this up. They gave me your name and details," you explained, and handed him an envelope for his tip.

Logan took the envelope from your hand. "Thanks," he grumbled, his voice still gruff but lacking the earlier edge. He stared at the envelope for a heartbeat, then tucked it into the console without opening it.

"Take care of yourself," he said abruptly as you reached for the door handle. There was an unexpected sincerity in his tone, and something subtle hidden in his words.

You paused, momentarily caught off guard. "You too, Logan," you replied, catching his eye in the mirror again.

A couple of days later, Logan was in the living room, while Laura flipped through the TV channels. She stopped at the Graham Norton Show, where the host was chatting with a guest. Logan was only half paying attention until he heard a familiar voice.

He looked up to see you, the same person he drove to the airport, sitting on the couch. You were laughing, looking much more at ease than the last time he saw you. Logan's eyes narrowed as he pieced together the realization that you were not just another passenger, but a well-known actress.

Laura, meanwhile, was getting impatient with trying to open up her chip bag, she shifted it closer, her claws extending with a sharp glint as she punctured the plastic. Crunch. Logan shot her a look—one that said, there’s no need for that, you know.

With a huff, he leaned back into the couch, folding his arms. "You’re gonna end up with chips all over the place, kid."

Laura glanced at him, momentarily unfazed, before shrugging and pulling her claws back, using her fingers instead. With a playful grin, she tossed a chip at him, catching him off guard.

"Hey! Don't waste the good stuff," he grumbled, half-serious, but the corner of his mouth betrayed a hint of amusement.

As you talked about your latest movie and upcoming projects on the television screen, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions tightening in his chest. It surprised him how deeply your image contrasted with the vulnerability he had perceived just days ago—your laughter bright and uninhibited, your charisma effortlessly drawing the audience in.

He could tell it was a facade, a protective mechanism he understood too well, yet something deep inside him… hoped it wasn't.

xx

Logan sat in the driver’s seat of the limo, his fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel as he waited for you. It had been a few weeks since that rainy encounter with you in the backseat. Since then, you had requested him for rides to work or miscellaneous events. Meeting you the first time was a moment he couldn't quite shake from his mind—it clung to him like a shadow. The weight of your anxious energy lingered, and your casual chatter had both intrigued and annoyed him. He wasn’t usually one for small talk, but there was something about you that drew him in, even if he’d never admit it.

As the weeks passed, your conversations grew more frequent, though still firmly rooted at the surface level. Logan noticed a few more bruises on you each time he saw you, but you never mentioned them, and he never asked. Despite the growing familiarity, there was a barrier that neither of you seemed willing to cross, leaving Logan to wonder about the secrets you were keeping and the reasons behind your seemingly unshakable composure.

When he received the notification about the pickup, he wasn’t sure what to expect, but he certainly wasn’t prepared for what he saw when you emerged from your brownstone. You stepped out with an air of grace, the elegant, form-fitting dress you wore hugged your figure in all the right places. It was a stark shift from the casual attire he had seen you in before, a dazzling transformation that caught him off guard. It took him a second to regain his composure.

As you approached the car, he instinctively straightened up, feeling an unexpected urge to present himself more professionally, despite the surge of irritation he felt at being moved by your appearance. You slipped into the backseat, and he caught the faintest scent of your perfume, a mixture of something floral and fresh that lingered in the air.

"Hello, Logan," you greeted him.

"Hey," he replied, his tone clipped and his gaze momentarily flickering to the rearview mirror to catch your reflection. But it was then that he noticed something wrong, something that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. Just below your left eye, there was a delicate bruise that had been artfully camouflaged with makeup. It might’ve gone unnoticed to the average human, but Logan’s sharp and mutant observant eyes didn't miss a detail. It was the first time he had ever seen a bruise on your face.

You had done a remarkable job covering it, and yet, through the layer of foundation and concealer, Logan could see the faint tinge of it peeking through—a testament to someone having hit you. A wave of frustration washed over him. He hated seeing you like this, and he hated the idea of whoever the asshole was that was hurting you getting away with it.

As you settled into the seat, Logan’s mind raced with thoughts of the best way to approach the situation.

Logan decided to break the tense silence as he turned the key in the ignition "Where are you headed?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

"I mean you tell me, you’re the one who’s taking me to the event," you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you adjusted your seatbelt.

Logan couldn’t help but smirk at your remark. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards despite his usually stern demeanor. "Fair enough," he said, his voice carrying a trace of dry humor.

Immediately, you felt a pang of guilt for your snarky remark. You sighed softly and decided to explain. "Sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just... the venue you’re dropping me off at is for the Golden Globes,"

Logan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to catch your reflection. "The Golden Globes? Isn’t that a big deal?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, a flicker of disinterest in your demeanor "I guess,"

Logan couldn’t help but frown at your indifferent tone, leaning into the conversation a bit. "You guess?"

You sighed, squinting your eyes softly, staring out the window with a heaviness that didn’t escape him. "It is a big deal, I suppose. But sometimes it feels like just another event, you know?"

He could sense the weight of your words and the exhaustion behind them. "Yeah, I get that. Sometimes the things that look glamorous from the outside can be drainin’ as hell."

You nodded, appreciating him not pushing it. "Exactly. It’s not always what it seems."

There was a moment of silent understanding.

"Laura mentioned you were in a movie she liked," Logan said, trying to keep the conversation light while his mind continued to process your bruise.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Laura? Is that your wife?"

Logan hesitated for a moment. "No, she's...my daughter," he clarified, the word "daughter" feeling heavy on his tongue. "well, uh, I guess recently adopted daughter, but uh, yeah, that’s who I take care of,"

You noticed the slight struggle in his voice, sensing the complexity behind his relationship with Laura. "That's nice. What's the movie she liked?" you asked, hoping to keep the conversation going and ease the tension.

Logan took a deep breath, concentrating on the memory of Laura's excitement flickering in his mind. "She really enjoyed that one where you played the, uh, corrupt CIA operative. Said you were pretty 'badass' in it,"

You laughed, throwing your head back into the headrest. "I'm glad she liked it. Tell her I appreciate the support,"

Logan nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Will do,"

He glanced at the itinerary he had received on his app, noting that there was no request for a pickup after the event. His curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to ask, "Noticed you didn’t request a ride after the event. Got plans?"

You shifted slightly in your seat, your expression unreadable for a moment before you answered. "I won’t be going home tonight,"

Logan’s stomach tightened at your words. He had a good sense of what that meant. It probably meant you were staying at someone else's place—possibly the same bastard responsible for your bruises.

"Stayin’ with someone?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral despite the concern gnawing at him.

You hesitated before nodding. "Yeah...something like that."

The thought of you being in a potentially harmful situation made him uneasy, but he knew he had to tread carefully. "If you need anythin’...or still need a ride or somethin’ later, or have an emergency, you have my information," he offered, his voice gruff but sincere.

"Thank you, Logan. I appreciate that," your eyes tracing his in the mirror.

Logan nodded, his jaw set. As much as he tried to suppress it, the uncomfortable feeling lingered. He couldn't help but worry about you and the situation you were in. The ride continued in a silence that felt heavy.

As the limo rolled to a stop at the venue, you gathered your things, preparing to step out. Before leaving, you reached into your bag and pulled out an envelope. "Here, for the ride," you said, handing it to him with a forced smile.

"Please tell me it’s less than last time," he muttered, remembering the absurdly generous tip you had given him. You had given him a $500 tip, claiming that if he hadn’t accepted your ride, he wouldn’t have been stuck in traffic for over an hour.  

You smirked. "Guess you’ll find out,"

Logan looked at the envelope, his eyebrows raising. "Isn’t it expensive to tip drivers like this all the time?"

"Who says this is how I usually tip my drivers?" you replied, your tone almost flirtatious.

As you stepped out of the car, Logan watched you disappear into the crowd of flashing lights and photographers. He silently hoped that you would reach out if you needed help, and that maybe, just maybe, things would get better for you.

He opened up the envelope. The tip inside made his jaw drop—$1000.

Later that night, he stood in the shower, the steam heavy around him as he worked his cock, the memory of you etched vividly in his mind—it all built towards a peak of contrasting emotions that left him grappling with shame. His eyes squeezed shut as he pictured your perfect face, your perfect body, your perfect voice, and the release that followed felt both exhilarating and tainted. He groaned into the shower when he finished and shot thick, white ropes of his come all over his hand, amidst a rush of conflicting feelings.

Heat pooled in the pit of his stomach while guilt crashed over him like icy water.

xx

A week later, you stood on the curb, fidgeting with your phone. You glanced over your shoulder at Donald, who leaned heavily against the side of the building, his laughter a little too loud, a little too unsteady. The buzz from the party clung to him like a cheap cologne, a suffocating scent that made your stomach churn.

You could have called an Uber, but deep down, you wanted something—someone—more familiar. Something that felt safe, and for some inexplicable reason, that meant Logan. He felt like an emergency contact of some sort. You could sense the tension that had built up between you two over your last few rides together, the air thick with unspoken words and guarded vulnerability; and yet, there was a strange comfort in that unease.

A familiar limo pulled up to the curb, and Logan's face came into view through the windshield—the lines of his face somehow holding a warmth you craved when the world turned too cold. He scanned your figure with sharp, concerned eyes that softened just a fraction when they met yours.

Taking a deep breath, you slid into the backseat, steadying yourself as Donald followed, chuckling awkwardly as he settled in beside you. Logan glanced at Donald in the rearview mirror, and you felt the tension crackle in the air. The scent of alcohol wafted in thick waves, filling the confined space of the limo with a sharp edge.

Logan’s expression hardened just slightly, a flicker of disapproval passing through his sharp features. "Where to?" he asked, his tone clipped and professional.

"Home," you murmured, feeling a weight of embarrassment wash over you. You wished the ground would swallow you whole. Your gaze drifted to Donald beside you, he reached over, trying to drape an arm around your shoulders, a gesture that felt both familiar and increasingly suffocating.

As you pulled away slightly, Logan’s brow furrowed in the rearview mirror. You could see it, hear it even, the unasked question lingering in the air: Why are you with him?

Meanwhile, Donald, oblivious to the discomfort he was causing, leaned back against his seat, chuckling at something only he found amusing. Suddenly, Donald broke the momentary silence that had settled in, his voice cutting through the quiet with a forced laugh. "You know, I’m surprised you decided to go home this early, babe," he said, his tone dripping with condescension.

The "babe" felt grating against your skin. You adjusted in your seat, feeling trapped between Logan’s silent scrutiny and Donald’s unwanted affection. "I’ve had enough partying for one night," you said, trying to maintain your composure as irritation flickered in your chest. "And I was tired."

Donald let out a short, incredulous laugh, turning to you. "Tired? Or are you just looking for a fucking excuse to bail on me?" His voice held an edge now, frustration creeping in, and your stomach sank. You were all too familiar with that tone—one that walked a thin line between teasing and anger.

You looked at him, trying to decipher his gaze. "That’s not fair," you replied, your voice firm yet soft, hoping to diffuse the situation. "You know I’ve had a long week,"

Instead of calming him, your response only seemed to fuel the fire. "A long week?" he echoed, raising his voice. "Is that all it is or am I now just a fucking bore to you?"

Logan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he sensed the change in the dynamics. You could see his jaw clench in the mirror, his eyes darting to you and then back to the road again, as if weighing his options on how to respond.

"Donald, can we not do this in the car?" you attempted to soothe the situation.

"Why? Because your ‘driver’ might see how much of a fucking cunt you’re being?" Donald shot back, the venom in his tone as palpable as a slap.

You felt your heart pound louder. Logan could feel the tension rapidly escalating and, with a glance at you, he noticed the fear dousing your composure. It was real, and he could no longer remain passive.

"Hey," Logan’s voice cut through the rising pitch of the argument. "You need to fuckin’ cool it," His words held an authority you hadn’t expected him to exert.

Donald’s anger verged on a boiling point, eyes narrowing at Logan, his hand clenching into a fist. "You need to mind your own fucking business,"

"Donald, calm down," you murmured, feeling your heart tighten with each breath as the anxiety swirled around you. "Can you just relax for a second?"

Donald’s eyes stayed locked on Logan, his expression darkening as if he was sizing him up. "Who the hell is this guy?" he spat, his tone dripping with arrogance.

With that, Donald’s fingers gripped your jaw roughly, and heat surged through you—anger, embarrassment, fear, all colliding in a chaotic knot deep in your chest. You could feel the pressure of his touch, but it was the intensity of his gaze that truly unsettled you. The weight of his question hung heavily in the air, a challenge that echoed between the three of you.

"I asked you a fucking question, who is he?" he demanded, his voice low and threatening, as if daring you to reveal Logan's significance. "You fucking him behind my back?"

You swallowed the sandpaper feeling down hard, summoning every ounce of defiance you had. "He’s just my driver, Donald," you asserted, forcing your voice to remain steady, though it trembled beneath the tension. "It’s nothing like that, Jesus, what’s the matter with you?"

"Look how cute you think you are making excuses. I bet you eat that shit up, don’t you?" Donald’s grip didn’t ease, and you turned your head slightly, breaking his hold. "Let go of me," you urged, your voice firmer now.

The sudden jolt of the car coming to a stop sent your heart racing, confusion and fear mingling in a heady concoction as Logan’s sharp voice pierced the tension-filled air. "Get out," he commanded, his tone brokering no room for argument. You watched in disbelief as he shifted into park, then pushed the door open with a decisive motion.

In a swift motion, Logan stepped out of the car, rounding the hood and before you could process, he had Donald by the collar of his shirt. You held your breath as Logan pulled Donald out of the backseat and you could hardly believe what you were witnessing.

"Logan, wait—" you managed to choke out, but it was too late. With a clean, measured motion, Logan swung his fist, connecting with Donald’s jaw. The sound of the punch echoed around you, raw and visceral. Donald stumbled backward, surprise etching itself onto his features, followed by a trace of anger as he regained his footing.

"How bout’ you pick on someone your own size," Logan warned, his voice a growl, low and dangerous.

For a split second, nobody moved, and your hand was clasped over your mouth in shock. Donald’s surprise morphed into rage as he wiped his mouth, glancing between you and Logan. Donald, reeling from Logan's punch, narrowed his eyes in a fierce glare. The adrenaline surged within him as he charged forward, swung his fist in a wild attempt to land a blow on Logan. But Logan was already prepared, he sidestepped the wild punch effortlessly.

With a quick shift of his weight, Logan unleashed another punch, this time connecting squarely with Donald's midsection. The impact was immediate; Donald doubled over, gasping for breath as the air rushed out of his lungs like a punctured balloon. By the time Donald found his balance again, Logan's hand darted out, catching Donald by the throat, his thumb pressing firmly just below the jawline. But it was more than just a grip; out from Logan's knuckles, metal claws extended, and he set just enough pressure to assert dominance without inflicting serious harm.

It then dawned on you that Logan was a mutant. It was rare to meet them these days, especially since no mutants had been born in a long time. Therefore, they usually lived in secret.

"Let me make this crystal clear," Logan snarled, his voice menacing. "You go anywhere near her again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you."

The promise hung heavily in the air, a palpable threat that twisted the energy in the surrounding space. The tension continued to hang as Donald's eyes widened, his breath coming short. The claws pressed against his throat, he tried to choke out a retort, but you could tell that words were failing him.

"Do you understand me?" Logan's voice dropped an octave, each word heavy —a warning, clear and concise. Donald's bravado faltered, and for the first time, he seemed to grasp the danger he’d placed himself in.

Donald hesitated, and for a split moment, you could see the gears in his mind turning. Then anger flared again, fierce and indignant as he tried to regain some ground. Logan didn’t flinch.

Finally, he let hm go and Donald backed down, an expression of defeat replacing the anger in his eyes. Donald glanced back at you, the desperation palpable. "Think you’ll be happy with a fucking low-life driver?" he sneered, his tone icy. "Guess I was right about you all along—you’re just a fucking whore," Then he turned on his heel, stomping away from the car.

A heavy silence followed Donald's retreat, and Logan remained rooted near the car, his breathing steady as he collected himself. He took a deep breath and retracted his claws back into his knuckles.

It looked painful.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around Logan in a tight hug. Logan stiffened at first, clearly not used to such gestures, but after a moment, he tentatively returned the embrace, his strong arms providing a sense of security you desperately needed.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling, tears pouring down your face as you felt more and more defeated.

Logan’s expression softened slightly, though he still looked somewhat bewildered by your touch. "Just doin’ what needed to be done," he muttered, his gruff voice barely hiding the concern he felt for you.

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with teary eyes, and a quivering lip. "Logan...I’m scared. I don’t want to go back to my place. Can I...can I go home with you tonight?"

Logan’s eyes searched yours, seeing fear etched across your face. After a beat, he nodded. "Yeah, you can come with me. It’s gonna be alright,"

He ran his fingers through your hair, kissing the top of your head, surprising you and himself with the gesture.

He guided you back to the limo, making sure you were comfortable in the passenger seat this time. As he drove, the tension gradually eased, replaced by a quiet determination to keep you away from that piece of shit.

And for the first time in a while, you felt… safe.

xx

The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently coaxing you awake. You took in the unfamiliar, yet comforting surroundings of the guest room Logan had set up for you.

After rubbing your eyes a few times, you slipped out of bed and quietly made your way downstairs. The house was still and peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, you heard the faint sound of a television and followed it to the living room.

There, you found a young girl lounging on the couch, her eyes fixed on the screen. The moment she noticed you, her eyes widened in shock. She sat up quickly, clearly not expecting to see you in her home.

"Hi," you said softly, offering a tentative smile. "I’m sorry if I startled you,”

She blinked a few times, processing your presence. "Oh... hi," she replied. "I’m Laura,"

"It’s nice to meet you,” you said biting your fingernail with worry, and feeling a bit awkward under her scrutiny. You introduced yourself.

Laura's eyes widened further, and she quickly masked her surprise with a knowing smile. "I know who you are," she said.

Before you could respond, Logan appeared in the doorway, his presence commanding as always. "Laura, you know the rules. No TV on Sundays until all the chores are done," he said firmly.

Laura's face scrunched up in frustration, and she began to mutter under her breath in Spanish, cursing softly. "¡Esto es una mierda! Nunca me deja hacer nada divertido." she complained. This is bullshit! He never lets me do anything fun.

You stepped in, your voice calm and soothing as you responded in Spanish. "Laura, no te preocupes. Termina tus quehaceres y luego podemos ver la televisión juntas," you said gently, hoping to defuse her frustration. Laura, don't worry. Finish your chores and then we can watch TV together.

Both Laura and Logan's eyes widened in surprise, clearly impressed by your fluency in Spanish. Laura's annoyance seemed to dissipate slightly, and she gave you a small, appreciative nod. "Por cierto, no habla español. 200 años en esta tierra y pensarías que lo habría aprendido. Es un maldito gringo.” He doesn't speak Spanish by the way, 200 years on this earth and you would think he would have picked it up. He's such a fucking gringo.

You chuckled softly, then leaned in slightly and put your hand on her shoulder. "Bueno, todos necesitamos un poco de ejercicio mental, ¿no? Quizás aprender español será su próximo proyecto," Well, we all need a bit of mental exercise, right? Maybe learning Spanish will be his next project.

Laura's eyes lit up with amusement, a small giggle escaping her lips. She nodded in agreement, clearly enjoying the playful exchange.

Logan huffed and crossed his arms, giving Laura a stern look. "I heard 'gringo,' and that's enough for me to know you're talkin’ shit," he said, his tone reprimanding.

Laura rolled her eyes dramatically but headed up the stairs to finish her chores, grumbling softly in Spanish as she went.

Once she was out of sight, Logan turned to you, curiosity evident in his expression. "What did she say?" he asked.

"You should learn Spanish to find out," you replied, teasing him gently.

Logan stood there, watching you with a mixture of awe and something else he couldn't quite place. He'd always known you were beautiful; it was hard not to notice. But there was something different about you this morning. Seeing you here, in his home, with no makeup, and wearing his clothes.

It was driving him a bit crazy inside.

The way the soft morning light played across your features highlighted your natural beauty. Your hair, slightly tousled from sleep, framed your face in a way that made him want to reach out and touch it. The way his oversized T-shirt draped over your figure was both endearing and maddening. It was as if you belonged here.

Logan's mind raced with thoughts he didn't usually entertain. He felt a protective urge rising within him, stronger than before. It was more than just wanting to keep you safe; he wanted to be near you, to understand you more deeply.

"Didn't know you spoke Spanish," he remarked, a hint of a smile appearing on his face.

You shrugged with a modest smile. "I studied abroad in Peru for a whole year back in college,"

You took a deep breath, your expression shifting to one of genuine gratitude. "Logan, thank you again for everything last night," you said softly.

"You don't have to thank me,"

"Still, it means a lot to me," you insisted, your voice full of earnestness.

Logan looked at you for a moment longer, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "You’re welcome," he said simply.

The morning continued with a sense of quiet understanding between you. The house gradually came to life as Laura finished her chores and joined you in the living room. She seemed more relaxed now, her earlier frustration was gone. The two of you settled onto the couch, chatting about various topics. Laura's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she asked you questions about your life, your career, and your interests.

Logan, sitting nearby observed the scene, he had never seen Laura so at ease with someone new, and it was fascinating to see her connecting with you so effortlessly. Your kindness and patience with her did not go unnoticed, and Logan found himself appreciating your presence even more. You answered her questions sharing amusing anecdotes and stories from your experiences. Laura listened intently, occasionally bursting into laughter at your witty remarks. It was clear that Laura felt comfortable with you.

After a while, you excused yourself to go back to the guest room to get changed. As you were getting dressed, you decided to make a quick call to your representatives. You kept your voice low, but the open door allowed your words to drift into the hallway where Logan happened to be passing by.

"I want a statement released today," you said firmly into the phone. "Make it clear that Donald and I have broken up."

There was a brief pause as you listened to your agent's response. "Yes, and tell his team if he comes near me again, I’ll release the full story," you continued.

You knew this would enrage Donald. His ego was as fragile as it was inflated, and he despised losing control. However, you also knew that his reputation meant everything to him. The mere threat of exposing who he really was, especially now that you had a witness to back it up, would be enough to make him reconsider his actions.

However, his unpredictability meant you couldn't let your guard down. The thought of a restraining order crossed your mind—a necessary step to ensure your safety and keep his volatile nature at bay. You would discuss this further with your legal team, but for now, this was a starting point.

Logan stopped just outside the guest room door, his ears perking up at what he heard. As you finished the call and started to pack your things, Logan knocked softly on the doorframe, making his presence known. "Everythin’ alright?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

You turned to face him, the weight of the conversation still heavy in your eyes. "Yeah," you said, offering a small, weary smile.

Logan leaned against the doorframe, his heart heavy at the sight of you. The small smile you offered didn’t quite reach your eyes. He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the doorway. "You don't have to go back home if you don't want to," he offered, his tone gentle.

"I don't want to be an inconvenience," you replied, your voice incredibly soft and small.

Logan shook his head, his eyes firm but kind. "You're not an inconvenience. You're welcome to stay as long as you need,"

"I have to go home and deal with some shit anyways," you shrugged.

Logan's chest tightened with frustration. "Just stay one more night," he urged. "Please, humor me,"

You looked away. "I don’t want you to pity me," you said, and Logan felt a pang of disappointment at how deeply you misunderstood him and his offer.

"I don’t," he assured you, crossing the threshold into the room, closing the space between you. He could see the way you pulled your chin up defiantly.

"I never thought I would be this woman," you confessed. "The first time it happened with…" you couldn’t even bring yourself to say his name. "I didn’t even believe it. I just kept telling myself it was an accident… that something like this couldn’t be happening to me,"

Logan’s expression shifted, an undercurrent of pain flickering across his features. "It shouldn’t happen to anyone," he replied.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly blinked them away, not wanting to show weakness. "Maybe it is my fault," you responded bitterly.

"Don’t fuckin’ say that that," his voice was stern, more forceful than he had ever been with you before. "You’re not responsible for his actions."

You felt a lump form in your throat. "It’s hard to remember that sometimes," you admitted.

"It's not your fault. No one deserves to be treated like that, no matter what," His deep gaze met yours, searching, pleading for you to believe him.

He watched you absorb his words, a flicker of walls crumbling behind your guarded demeanor. You swallowed hard, nodding in understanding but finding it difficult to let go of the guilt and shame that had clouded your mind for so long.

You took a deep breath before leveling out your voice. "Alright," you agreed. "I'll stay one more night."

Relief flooded him. "Good," he said. "Now, why don't we go back downstairs? Laura's probably waitin’ for you,"

You paused for a moment, glancing back towards the door. A soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you turned to Logan. "Laura is really special," you said sincerely.

"I know," he replied simply.

"She's lucky to have you," you added, meeting his gaze.

Logan looked down for a moment, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "And I'm lucky to have her," he said quietly.

xx

The drive to your place the next day was quiet, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a chainsaw. Logan’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes occasionally flicking over to you.

With every moment that passed, an unexpected pang resonated in his heart, a feeling both foreign and familiar. It tightened in his chest, as if his emotions were a tightly knotted string about to snap. Why was this so complicated? You had just been a passenger in his life, a client, yet here you were, an undeniable force that had disrupted his carefully maintained boundaries. He’d picked you up that rainy day, unaware that you would seep into his thoughts and challenge the very fabric of his resolve.

When Logan finally pulled up in front of your home, he put the car in park and turned to you, his gaze intense.

"I don’t have your tip," you said softly, "Do you want to come upstairs and I —"

"Look, I don’t want your money," he cut you off. The thought of accepting anything from you felt wrong.

But your expression shifted subtly, the light in your eyes flickering to something deeper, more profound. "Who says that the tip I was going to offer you was going to be money?" you countered, the quiet suggestion hanging between you two.

Logan’s breath hitched, caught off guard by your insinuation. The implications clawed at his insides like a wild beast—you were beautiful, young, successful, and rich. He couldn’t help but remember Donald’s words: Think you’ll be happy with a fucking low-life driver?

"Is that what you think you have to do?" he finally found his voice, though it held an undercurrent of disbelief. The thought of you offering something more than gratitude twisted something ugly deep within him. "You’re in a tough spot, and I’m not lookin’ to take advantage of that,"

"I’m a grown woman," you stated pointedly, cocking your head up at him, pissed off at his remark. "I know what I want, and I want you. Right now. Even if it’s just once."

Those words hung in the air like a powerful incantation, and Logan felt the world narrow to just you and him, the rest of everything else fading into a dull hum. He could almost hear the thudding of his own heart, drowning out the rush of thoughts swirling through his mind.

You took a deep breath, your eyes locking onto Logan's. "Please, don't treat me differently because of what you know," you begged softly. "Just imagine it's the first time we met, when you dropped me off at the airport,"

Logan's jaw tightened, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded slightly, trying to push aside the weight of everything he knew.

"I thought you were very handsome," you continued, your hand sliding up his chest. "Did you find me attractive?"

Logan's mind raced as he processed your question. The idea that you might doubt if he found you attractive seemed absurd to him. "Yeah," he choked out. "I thought you were gorgeous," he admitted, his voice completely sincere. "And strong. I could see it in the way you carried yourself."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, a shy smile starting to grow. "Yeah?" you asked, tilting your head.

Logan reached out, rubbing his thumb across your mouth. "You're still all those things," he said softly, his other hand began to trail slight circles up your back. "And more," he swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He could see the fire in your gaze, the determination that dared him to step forward. The combativeness in your demeanor was a stark contrast to the uncertainty that often clouded his own feelings. You were sure of yourself, and in that, you drew him in like a moth to a flame.

A pulse of adrenaline surged through him—this was dangerous territory, but that thrill of you was almost too good to resist. He couldn't shake off the sensation of being utterly captivated by you, his instincts wrestling against the urge to pull away and the intoxicating desire to dive headfirst into the depths of your proposition — and your pussy.

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in. The space between you vanished as he captured the moment, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle hesitation that quickly turned fervent. A soft moan slid through your lips when he parted your soft lips with his, allowing his tongue to extend into your mouth. The taste of your warmth and sweetness enveloped him, igniting the dormant feelings he had buried for far too long.

It was reckless. It was fleeting. And yet, it felt like the universe was aligning somehow, a collision of worlds where both of you could momentarily escape your realities. When he pulled back, his breath mingling with yours, Logan looked into your eyes, and for the first time, he felt a sense of clarity amidst the chaos.

"Just once?" he echoed your earlier comment, needing to anchor this moment and understand its magnitude.

You didn't need to answer; the intensity of what lay between you was already loud enough. But you still answered him anyway.

"Just once."

And though a thousand alarms blared in his mind, the intoxicating pull of this moment drowned them out. "Okay," he finally relented. "Let’s go upstairs,"

xx

It ended up happening more than once.

At this point, you couldn’t count how many times you and Logan had fucked over the last three months.

Somehow, your emergency contact had become a permanent fixture in your life. And you had to admit, you were completely happy with that.

You woke up and could feel Logan’s left arm wrapped around your chest as he slept on his stomach. After looking at him, you quickly unwrapped his arm from around you, laid it back on his side, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Then, you quietly stood up and went to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. His house felt quiet; Laura was at a sleepover. You were a bit anxious because her classmates had no idea that she was a mutant. To protect her, you and Logan always reminded her to keep her unique abilities a secret.

It was hard to believe she was turning 12 soon; she had grown so much in the short time you knew her. What would she want? She was obsessed with comic books — especially the X-Men. You considered what Logan might think—he would probably veto anything too mainstream. Maybe you could get her some new sunglasses, even though you had to admit that the gas station pair she had were so fucking cute on her.

As you waited for the coffee to brew, you leaned against the counter, lost in thought. Your mind drifted back to dinner at your brownstone a few nights ago—you remembered Laura’s innocent voice breaking the comfortable hum of conversation. "Gracias, Mama," she had said, reaching for a piece of garlic bread that you had just passed her. The word slipped out effortlessly, and for a split second, the room had gone silent. You wanted to cry, but you couldn’t let the emotion spill over; you didn’t want to embarrass her or make a deal about it. After all, she was just a child—it might have been an innocent slip.

Logan had noticed your reaction. He had seen the way your eyes had glistened with unshed tears, the way you had tried to mask your emotions. Under the dining room table, he had reached out and gently grabbed your thigh, his touch grounding and reassuring. You had looked at him, your eyes meeting his, and in that moment, you felt a silent understanding pass between you. Words unspoken, but deeply felt.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

You realized that you were addicted to Logan; it felt like your libido had skyrocketed since the first time you two slept together. He was insatiable, and honestly, you were just as bad. He was always ready to pounce on you, making you always feel desired. You were mindful that you were in the honeymoon stage of whatever ‘this’ was. It felt silly to call him your ‘boyfriend’, he was so much more than that. Plus, you had jumped into the role of a caregiver without even realizing it—playing the part of a surrogate mother figure in his daughter’s life. That felt much more intimate than just being a ‘girlfriend.’

You two had fucked in some interesting places. The last time he visited you on set, you rode him on the couch in your trailer, bouncing on his cock as he thrust up hard and fast into you while telling you: "Show me how pretty you sound when you come on my cock, sweetheart," He might have been a little jealous of your co-star and was marking his territory. "Say my fuckin’ name," — actually he might have been very jealous.

I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have your jealous moments either. One day, you two came home from a bar, and you told him you didn’t feel like talking after you saw some young woman shoving her breasts in his face and touching his arm. He was having none of that and pushed you up against the wall in his hallway, ripped off your panties, and shoved them in your mouth so that you wouldn’t wake up Laura with your screams. He shoved his fingers inside of your soaking cunt and told you to fuck yourself on them, adding that he didn’t necessarily appreciate how the bartender had been eye-fucking you all night long either. Once you came, he took no mercy on you and fucked you with wild abandon against the wall, telling you: "Your perfect fuckin’ pussy has ruined me for any other woman," as he came deep inside of you, which set off your next orgasm.

I adore you. I adore you. I adore you.

You also learned quickly that he loved to go down on you. You thought it was because he enjoyed hearing you beg and watching you squirm. "Please, Logan, I need you," always got him so riled up. But you also noticed that he sometimes needed it more than you did. He would come home from work, put you on the bed, and lower himself to his knees, telling you that he needed to feel and taste you. A few weeks ago, he bent you over the hood of his limo, eating you out from behind as his tongue flattened against you, holding you open with his hands on your ass while he groaned against you. It was fucking filthy.

I need you. I need you. I need you.

Logan was more of a giver than a receiver. You often had to remind him that you liked to make him feel good too. The last time he let you have your way with him, he told you: "You look so good with your mouth full, can’t wait to come down your tight little throat," His hips rolled forward, his jaw hanging open as you swallowed him down, his thighs trembling from the aftershocks of his release. But most of the time, he would pull your mouth off his cock, looking pained, telling you that you needed to stop, insisting that he wanted to come inside of you instead.

I want you. I want you. I want you.

Having Logan inside of you always felt indescribable. No matter how rough and dirty it was, even when he was spewing complete and utter filth at you, he always made you feel safe. Then there were the times when he was slow, gentle, and tender, and you could feel the desperation radiating from him while he was inside you. You thought he might be the only man who had ever truly made love to you.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The coffee machine beeped, signaling that your coffee was ready, and you felt Logan’s arms wrap around your waist as he snuck up on you. "Good mornin’ baby," he lazily drawled, planting lazy kisses on your neck.

"Good morning handsome, I was going to bring this to you in bed," you replied, smiling as you turned to face him. He planted soft kisses on your forehead, temple, eyelids, and then gently rubbed his nose along your cheek before crushing his mouth to yours — almost abusively, sliding his tongue through your lips immediately. The kiss escalated quickly, heat rising between you as you felt his erection pressing against you.

"I need somethin’ else before this coffee," he murmured as he picked you up and set you on the counter, pulling your panties down from under your satin babydoll.

You let out a small gasp as the cool surface of the counter met your skin, contrasting with the heat radiating from Logan. His hands were strong and possessive as they cupped your thighs, spreading them apart. A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cunt, hissing when he saw the pool of arousal waiting for him.

"Logan," you warned playfully, knowing fully well that once he started, there would be no stopping him, especially not when he was in this kind of mood.

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through you, igniting all the butterflies in your stomach. "C’mon, baby. Just a little taste," he teased, his thumb brushing against your sensitive skin just above where you craved his mouth. "You know you love it,"

And he was right. You did love it.

"You think that coffee’s still gonna make it to bed?" he teased, a playful smirk dancing on his lips, peppering soft kisses along your thighs.

"Maybe not," you replied, glancing towards the coffee maker and then back at him with a grin.

"Well, I think we can find somethin’ better to do," he said simply, as he inched closer to your dripping hole. "Just the two of us,"

"Just you and me?" you murmured, fingers grazing his cheek.

"Always, baby," he promised looking up at you from between your legs, and in that moment, you knew he meant every word.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

xx

^Logan sending you pictures of Laura while you’re on set.

[ethanhoewke]

may the rest of this year be softer

[ethanhoewke]

papa fed swiss a little too much…

[ethanhoewke]

Among Thieves VII |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: cowboy!logan x preacher’s daughter!reader, 18+ f!original character, fluffy, angst, smut, mentions of pregnancy, blood, death (as requested - one final chapter)

The days leading up to the wedding are filled with excitement and a touch of chaos. Adelaide's sisters flit about the farmhouse, helping her with everything from arranging flowers to hemming the dress. The barn is transformed into a warm, rustic venue, with lanterns strung along the beams and hay bales arranged for seating. Adelaide finds herself swept up in the whirlwind of preparation, her heart fluttering at the thought of becoming Logan's wife.

Logan, however, is harder to pin down. He spends much of his time on the outskirts of town, returning to the farmhouse late at night. He doesn't say much about what he's been doing, and while Adelaide is curious, she doesn't press him.

One such night, Logan slips into her room, as he's grown fond of doing, and finds her waiting for him, her hair loose and her eyes bright with unspoken questions.

"Where have you been?" She asks softly, tilting her head as he crosses the room to her. "You've been so busy lately. Is everything alright?

Logan doesn't answer right away. Instead, he sits on the edge of her bed, pulling her into his lap with an ease that makes her smile bashfully. He kisses her deeply, his hands roaming her waist and leaving her breathless. "It's nothing you need to worry about.” He murmurs against her lips, his voice low and full of promise. Adelaide lets herself sink into his touch, the question lingering but unspoken. She knows Logan too well by now - if he wanted her to know, he'd tell her. Whatever he's been working on, it's for her, for them, and that knowledge is enough to put her at ease.

"You're keeping secrets from me now?" She teases, her voice light as she traces the line of his jaw with her fingers.

Logan smirks, his eyes dark and amused. "Just one," He admits, nipping at her lip. "But you'll like it. Trust me."

And she does. Completely.

The day before their wedding dawns bright and warm, the kind of day that makes everything seem touched with magic. Logan arrives at the farmhouse just after breakfast, tipping his hat to the preacher and exchanging a few polite words before finding Adelaide in the barn with her sisters. She’s busy arranging flowers for the tables, her hands moving deftly, her laughter filling the space.

“Hey there,” Logan says softly from behind her, his voice low enough that only she hears. She turns, her smile brightening when she sees him. “Spare a second for me, darlin’?”

“What is it?” She asks, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Logan grins and holds out his hand. “Just trust me.”

Her sisters tease as she takes his hand, but Adelaide barely notices as Logan leads her to his horse. They ride together, Logan’s arms securely around her waist as he takes her to the outskirts of town, where the landscape opens to a view of the river below.

When they reach a clearing, Logan helps her down and guides her toward a small house nestled in the trees. Adelaide’s breath catches as she takes in the simple but sturdy structure, the light wood glowing softly in the sun.

“This is…this is ours?” She whispers, turning to him with wide eyes.

Logan nods, his face softening as he watches her reaction. “I’ve been working on it the past few weeks. Your father helped me find the spot.” Adelaide covers her mouth, overwhelmed with emotion, and then throws herself into his arms, kissing him deeply. Logan chuckles, holding her close before leading her into the house.

Inside, the space smells of fresh wood and wildflowers. A makeshift cot sits in the center of the floor, surrounded by bouquets of vibrant blooms Logan must have picked himself. The sight makes her heart ache with love. “Logan…” She begins, but he silences her with a kiss, slow and deliberate.

“I couldn’t wait to show you,” He murmurs against her lips, his hands sliding down her waist. “Wanted you to see where we’ll start our life, just the two of us.”

Adelaide’s cheeks flush as Logan steps closer, his voice dropping to that dark, possessive tone that makes her weak. “This house, this land, this life - it’s ours, Addie. You’re mine, and I’m yours. I’ll take care of you, make you happy, and anyone who tries to come between us…” His lips curl into a smirk. “Well, they won’t try twice.” Adelaide’s heart races, her breath hitching at the way he looks at her, like she’s the only thing that matters. She pulls him into a fierce kiss, her hands clutching at his shirt. Logan lets her take what she wants for a moment before he takes control, guiding her toward the cot. “You trust me, don’t you?” He asks, his lips brushing her ear as his hands settle on her hips.

“Always.” Adelaide whispers, her voice trembling with love and anticipation.

The sun filters through the windows of their new home, casting a golden glow on the wildflowers Logan had carefully arranged. Adelaide is barely aware of her surroundings, lost in the overwhelming presence of Logan, who holds her with a possessive strength she craves. His hands explore her with reverence and hunger, his touch leaving a trail of fire along her skin as he lowers her onto the cot. He leans over her, his lips ghosting along her jawline before whispering in that deep, commanding tone that makes her shiver. “You know this is just the start, don’t you? I’ll give you everything, Addie. Every dream you’ve ever had will be ours.”

Adelaide’s breath catches as he moves against her, his words fueling the ache that has consumed her since he brought her here. “Logan…” She whispers, her voice trembling with both love and longing.

“I’m going to take care of you,” He continues, his lips brushing her ear as his hands undo the ties of her dress. “You’ll never have to doubt that. You’ll never want for anything. And you’ll give me what I want, won’t you?” She can’t respond, her voice stolen by the way he moves, the way he takes control so effortlessly. Her silence makes him grin, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s both tender and unrelenting. “I’ll make you a mother,” He murmurs against her lips, his tone dark and possessive as he aligns himself with her, her thighs trembling around his waist. “Our children will run through these fields, Addie. Our family will grow in this house. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

The promise sends a shiver down her spine, and she clings to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. “Oh, Logan!” She cries softly, pulling him down to her and Logan watches her fall apart beneath him, utterly captivated by her reactions, by the way she surrenders to him completely.

“Look at you,” He whispers, his voice rough with admiration as his thrusts keep a slow and loving pace, wanting her to feel every bit of him inside her. “You love when I take what’s mine, don’t you? You love knowing you belong to me.” Adelaide can only nod, her voice lost in the overwhelming pleasure he’s bringing her. She arches into him, the sound of his deep, satisfied growl sending her spiraling. “You’re perfect, Addie,” He says, his lips trailing down her neck. “You were made for me. Don’t you see that?”

“Logan,” She whispers his name, trembling beneath him, and Logan cups her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.

His eyes soften for a moment as he presses a tender kiss to her lips. “I love you, Addie.” He says, his voice raw and honest.

Adelaide gazes up at him, her heart full, her body trembling with the intensity of his love. “I love you too.” She whispers, her voice breaking as he kisses her again, sealing his promises with every thrust, every word, every touch. Adelaide trembles, her fingers gripping the planes of his broad shoulders as he consumes her. She’s never felt anything as overwhelming as this - Logan’s raw, possessive love wrapping around her like a force of nature.

His hands guide her with firm control, drawing her closer until there’s no space left between them. “Say it, Adelaide,” Logan demands softly, his voice a dangerous, intoxicating whisper. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” She whispers, her voice trembling as tears of pleasure fill her eyes.

Logan presses his forehead against hers, his hips slow and deliberate as he lets his words take hold in her heart. “That’s right. Always mine.” Adelaide’s cries are muffled against his chest as the intensity of his love and his possessiveness pushes her to the edge, and she falls apart in his arms. Logan holds her through her release, his own restraint unraveling as he whispers more dark, intimate promises of their future together. “You’ve ruined me, Addie,” He groans, his grip tightening. “Theres no going back for me now. You’re my everything.”

As they lie together in the makeshift cot surrounded by wildflowers, Adelaide feels utterly claimed, cherished, and safe. Every word Logan whispered lingers in her mind, a reminder of the unyielding love and obsession they share.

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of their unfinished home, bathing the room in a warm glow. Logan lay with Adelaide tucked into his side, her fingers lazily tracing circles on his chest as they talked. Neither speaks of the day’s significance yet - they’re content in the quiet moments, talking softly about nothing in particular.

“Think we should put the kitchen over there?” Adelaide muses, pointing toward a corner of the room.

Logan smirks, his hand trailing idly up and down her arm. “As long as you promise to keep me fed, you can put it wherever you want.”

Adelaide laughs softly, her voice light and carefree. “I think I’ll keep you around, cowboy. Someone’s gotta split the firewood.”

Logan chuckles, turning his head to press a kiss to her temple. “Anything for you, Addie. You know that.”

The serenity of the moment is interrupted by a firm knock at the door. Logan tenses immediately, his instincts kicking in. Adelaide sits up, clutching the blanket to her chest as Logan pulls on his pants and moves to answer the door. When he opens it, he’s met with the familiar face of Caleb. Logan’s jaw tightens, his hand resting near the doorframe to ground himself, but Caleb raises his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Easy, Logan,” Caleb says, his voice low and earnest. “I ain’t here to start trouble. Came to warn you.” He glances past Logan into the house, his eyes briefly landing on Adelaide before shifting back to him. “Came in good faith, I swear it.”

Logan steps outside onto the porch, closing the door halfway to shield Adelaide from the conversation. “You’ve got about thirty seconds to explain before I decide I don’t care.”

“Just figured you oughta know - Eli’s gone rogue.” He said gruffly, his tone lacking its usual cockiness.

Logan’s expression darkened. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he ain’t listenin’ to nobody no more,” Caleb explained, stepping closer so his voice wouldn’t carry. “He’s been stirrin’ up trouble, talkin’ ‘bout comin’ back here to settle things. He’s still smartin’ over what you did to him, and he’s got it in his head to make you pay.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He glanced over his shoulder at Adelaide, who was watching them with a mix of curiosity and concern. “You think he’d come after her?” Logan asked, his voice deadly calm.

Caleb hesitated, then nodded. “If he thinks it’d hurt you, yeah. You know Eli - he don’t care ‘bout collateral damage.”

Logan’s gaze hardened. “Thanks for the warning,” He said curtly. “But if Eli shows his face ‘round here, he won’t leave alive.”

Caleb gave a solemn nod, his expression grave. “I figured as much. Just…watch your back, Logan. And hers too.” Logan didn’t respond, merely closing the door as Caleb turned to leave. He leaned against the frame for a moment, his mind racing.

“What’s wrong?” Adelaide asked softly, sitting up on the cot and pulling the blanket up more securely.

Logan crossed the room and sat beside her, his hand finding hers. “Nothin’ for you to worry about,” he said, his tone firm but gentle. “Just an old problem tryin’ to make itself new.”

Adelaide searched his face, sensing the tension in his posture. “Logan…”

He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. “I’ll take care of it, Addie. I promise. Ain’t nobody gonna touch you or come between us.”

Though her worry didn’t fade entirely, Adelaide nodded, trusting him. “Okay.” She said quietly.

Even as the day begins, the weight of Caleb’s warning lingers in the back of Logan’s mind. He knows Eli won’t back down, but Logan is ready for him. Nothing will ruin this day - not for him and not for Adelaide.

The church is filled to the brim with townsfolk, a quiet hum of excitement buzzing in the air. The pews are decorated with simple wildflowers, the soft scent of lavender and daisies mingling with the smell of wood and candle wax. Logan stands at the front, his broad shoulders rigid but his fingers nervously twitching at his sides. He’s not used to being the center of attention, not in moments like this. Yet, when he glances at the pews on his side and sees the men from the cattle ranch - Jeb and the others, dressed in their best and grinning back at him - something inside him softens.

He hadn’t expected to feel this way, seeing people there for him. For them.

The chatter dies down as the soft strains of the organ begin to play. Logan glances back towards the church entrance, and the moment Adelaide steps into the doorway, every thought he had evaporates. She’s radiant, her simple white gown catching the light, a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hands. Her sisters helped braid her hair and pin it back with daisies, but it’s her smile that takes his breath away. His Adelaide, walking toward him, a vision of grace and everything he never thought he deserved.

The preacher escorts her down the aisle, his expression a mixture of pride and bittersweet joy. As they reach the front, her father places her hand in Logan’s and looks him squarely in the eye. “Take care of her.” He says, his voice low but firm.

Logan nods, his grip on Adelaide’s hand tightening as he answers, “Always.”

The ceremony begins, led by Adelaide’s father. The crowd listens quietly, the warmth of the moment spreading through the room. Logan and Adelaide’s hands remain joined, a steady anchor for both of them as they exchange smiles.

When it’s time for the vows, Logan goes first. He clears his throat, his rough voice softening as he speaks. “Adelaide,” He begins, looking down at her, “I ain’t a man of fancy words, but you’ve got my heart in a way I didn’t think was possible. You’ve made me better - shown me that I could have a life worth living, worth fightin’ for. I promise to keep you safe, to love you fiercely, and to be the man you deserve. You’re my everything, darlin’, and I’ll spend every day provin’ it to you.”

Adelaide’s eyes glisten as she smiles up at him. She squeezes his hand and begins her vows, her voice trembling with emotion. “Logan, I’ve prayed for a love like this - for a man who sees me for who I am and loves me all the same. With you, I feel safe. I feel cherished. You’ve given me a strength I didn’t know I had, and I promise to stand by you through everything. I’ll love you with all my heart, as your wife and your partner, for all the days of my life.”

There’s a quiet sniffle in the crowd, followed by a low chuckle as Logan smirks, recognizing Jeb trying to play off his emotions. Her father clears his throat, moving forward with the rings. As they exchange them, Logan’s hands are surprisingly steady as he slides the band onto Adelaide’s finger, her soft gasp making his heart race.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Her father says, his voice full of pride. “Logan, you may kiss your bride.” Logan doesn’t hesitate. He pulls Adelaide into his arms, his kiss firm and unrestrained, drawing a delighted laugh from the crowd. Adelaide melts into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, the world fading away as it becomes just the two of them. When they pull apart, the preacher chuckles, “Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. and Mrs. Logan Howlett.”

The church erupts into applause, and Logan takes Adelaide’s hand, grinning as they turn to face their friends and family. As they walk down the aisle together, Logan leans close to her ear and murmurs, “You’re mine now, Mrs. Howlett. For always.”

Adelaide’s cheeks flush, but she smiles up at him, her heart full. “And you’re mine, Mr. Howlett. For always.”

The farmhouse is alive with celebration, the warm glow of lanterns spilling out into the yard as laughter and music fill the air. The reception is simple yet full of joy, a gathering of the people who know and love Logan and Adelaide best. Long tables are laden with food, and the smell of roasted meat and fresh-baked pies mingles with the crisp evening air. Logan stands near the barn, a glass of whiskey in his hand, chatting with the cattlemen.

They joke and slap him on the back, a grin on his face as they rib him good-naturedly. “So, Logan,” Jeb drawls, grinning, “You plannin’ on expandin’ the Howlett family soon? Or you just gonna enjoy the quiet life for a while?”

Logan smirks, taking a slow sip before answering. “We’ll see what the good Lord has in mind,” He says, his tone teasing but his expression unreadable. The men laugh, nudging him knowingly. “One step at a time.” He chuckles, but there's a gleam in his eye that gives him away.

"Yeah, sure," One of them quips, "But don't act like you haven't thought about it."

"Let me enjoy bein' a husband first." Logan smirks, his gaze already searching the crowd for Adelaide. It doesn't take long to find her. She's by the dessert table, talking with her sisters, her smile lighting up the evening. Logan excuses himself from the conversation, his feet already carrying him toward her.

As he reaches her, he slips an arm around her waist, pulling her gently but possessively into his side. Adelaide looks up at him, her cheeks flushed from the wine and the warmth of the evening. "Having fun, Mrs. Howlett?" He murmurs, his voice low enough that only she can hear.

She smiles, leaning into him. "I am, Mr. Howlett. And you?"

"Always, when I'm with you." He presses a kiss to her temple and whispers against her skin, "But I'm lookin' forward to later, just you and me."

The heat in Adelaide's face deepens, and she swats at his chest playfully. "Behave yourself, Logan." He just grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he lets her go, watching as she's pulled into a conversation with another guest.

As the night goes on, a few of the younger men muster the courage to ask Adelaide to dance. Logan watches from the sidelines, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp gaze ensuring no one steps out of line. The men keep their hands respectfully on her waist, aware of the formidable figure watching their every move.

One of the ranch hands jokes, “You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor watchin’ her like that.”

Logan smirks. “She’s my wife. I’ll look at her all I want.”

When she returns to him, breathless and glowing from the dancing, he pulls her close again. "You're the most beautiful thing here.” He says softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

"And you're the most handsome.” She replies, resting her hand on his chest.

As the evening winds down, a few heartfelt toasts are made. Adelaide’s father speaks first, his words filled with pride and hope for the couple. Jeb follows with a lighter tone, raising his glass to “the toughest son of a gun I’ve ever worked with, and the woman brave enough to love him.” The crowd cheers, and Logan raises his glass, his gaze locked on Adelaide’s across the room. The love and affection in his eyes are plain for anyone to see. The festivities wind down with more dancing and toasts, Adelaide’s sisters insist on one last dance with her, laughing as they spin her around while Logan watches, his heart full.

As the guests begin to leave, Logan and Adelaide stand hand in hand, bidding everyone goodnight. Her father pulls Logan into a firm handshake, his eyes shining with unspoken approval. Finally, with the crowd dispersed and the farmhouse quiet, Logan takes Adelaide’s hand, leading her to the waiting horse and helping her up before climbing on behind her. They ride in silence under the stars, the cool night air wrapping around them as the little house Logan built comes into view.

When they arrive, Logan scoops Adelaide into his arms, carrying her over the threshold. She laughs softly, resting her head against his shoulder. Inside, the house feels like a sanctuary, still simple and unfinished but already filled with warmth and love. Logan sets her down gently and tilts her chin up to look at him. “Welcome home, Mrs. Howlett.” He murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

Adelaide smiles, her eyes glistening. “It’s perfect, Logan. You’re perfect.”

Logan doesn't waste another moment. He kisses her deeply, his hands moving to undo the delicate buttons of her wedding dress, his intentions for the night ahead clear in every touch and whispered promise. Their new life together begins in the quiet intimacy of the home he built for them, every moment steeped in love and devotion.

The days after the wedding are a blur of joy and intimacy as Logan and Adelaide settle into their new home. The little house by the river begins to take shape, its barebones interior slowly filling with furniture, personal touches, and the sound of their laughter. Logan spends his mornings chopping wood or making small repairs, but every time he catches sight of Adelaide - her dress fluttering as she works on arranging flowers or cleaning - he can’t help but set his tools aside. His hands find their way to her waist as he pulls her close, pressing kisses to her neck, whispering, “You’re too pretty to be workin’, darlin’. Let me spoil you instead.”

Adelaide tries to protest, laughing at his persistence, but Logan’s touch and his flirty, teasing words always leave her breathless. The ache in her body from their nights together hasn’t faded, but she doesn’t mind. She welcomes his attention, craving the closeness just as much as he does.

Each night, as they fall into bed, Logan’s hands roam her body like he’s memorizing every inch of her. “I don’t want to miss a second of this, Adelaide,” He murmurs against her skin, his voice thick with affection and desire. “Every moment I’ve got with you, I’m gonna make it count.” Adelaide’s heart swells at his words, though she notices a subtle edge to his tone sometimes - a tension he tries to hide. She doesn’t press him about it, trusting him completely, but the way he holds her afterward, so protectively, makes her wonder.

Logan hasn’t forgotten Caleb’s warning about Eli. It lingers in the back of his mind, a quiet shadow over their happiness. He’s kept his guard up, watching the horizon every time he steps outside and keeping his gun loaded by the door. But he refuses to let the threat ruin these first precious days with Adelaide.

At night, after they’ve settled into bed, Logan holds her close, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare skin. He listens to the way she sighs in contentment, her trust in him absolute. And as much as he aches to shield her from the world, there’s a part of him that knows this peace might not last forever. He doesn’t want to scare her, doesn’t want her to feel anything but joy.

When he’s with her, her smile and the way she says his name soothe the storm in his head. Logan knows he’ll have to confront Eli eventually, but for now, all he wants is to see Adelaide happy - to make her feel as cherished and loved as she makes him. But until the moment comes when he has to face his past - or anyone else who threatens their happiness - Logan is determined to give Adelaide everything he has. He whispers his love to her in the dark, promising her the life they’ve dreamed of, and in her arms, he allows himself to believe it’s possible.

Late one evening, as they sit by the fire, Logan pulls Adelaide into his lap, cradling her against him. He brushes a strand of hair from her face and presses a kiss to her temple. “You’re my everything, darlin’. Ain’t nothin’ gonna take this away from us. I promise.”

Adelaide smiles softly, resting her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t know the weight behind his words, but she feels the depth of his love in every look, every touch, and every whispered promise.

As the weeks had gone by, Logan starts to notice subtle changes in Adelaide - her cheeks seem rosier, her appetite has grown, and there’s a softness to her that wasn’t there before. It doesn’t take long for him to piece it together, especially with the way her hand occasionally rests on her stomach, absentmindedly protective.

The glow of the early morning sun cast a warm light over their bedroom, illuminating the sheen of sweat on their skin as Logan lay beside Adelaide, his arm draped possessively over her waist. His fingers lazily traced patterns on her stomach, his gaze fixed there as if he could see the changes beneath her skin. Adelaide’s breathing was still uneven from their earlier passion, and her lips parted slightly when Logan finally broke the silence.

“You feel different,” He said, his voice low and gruff, yet softer than she’d ever heard. His hand stilled, resting flat on her belly. “Your body…it’s changin’, darlin’. Tell me - do you think it’s possible?”

Adelaide’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away bashfully before nodding. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it,” She admitted softly. “I believe it’s very possible, Logan.”

For a moment, he was silent, letting her words settle over him like the warmth of the morning sun. The possibility of Adelaide carrying his child struck him to his core. His fingers brushed over her stomach, lingering there, his touch both tender and possessive. “You’re serious,” He said, his voice tinged with awe. “You might really be…”

She nodded again, her smile soft but radiant. “I feel it, Logan. I just…know.”

The realization ignited something primal in him, a fire that burned hotter than anything he’d felt before. His hand tightened slightly over her abdomen, his gaze darkening as he imagined her swelling with his child, a part of him growing inside her.

“You’re mine, Adelaide,” He growled, his voice rough and thick with emotion. “Every part of you. And now…now you’re carryin’ a piece of me. Do you know what that does to me, darlin’? How much I wanna take care of you, protect you?” Adelaide shivered at the intensity of his words, her breath hitching as he pulled her closer. His lips found hers, his kiss demanding and fervent, leaving her breathless. “You’ll be the mother of my child,” Logan whispered against her lips, his hands exploring her body with renewed reverence. “I’ll make sure you have everything you need - everything you want. No one’s ever gonna hurt you or our baby. I’ll see to it.”

Adelaide whimpered softly under his touch, her body reacting to the possessive way he held her, the way he kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough. “Logan,” She murmured, her voice trembling, “You make me feel so safe. I want this. I want you. Always.”

Logan’s entire body tensed, his eyes darkening with something feral, something utterly consuming. A low growl escaped his throat as he shifted over her, bracing himself on his forearms to look down at her fully. Hearing her words only spurred him further, his movements fueled by the knowledge that she was his - his wife, his partner, and now, possibly the mother of his child. He leaned down to kiss her, slow and deep, his lips claiming hers. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and his voice dropped further. “You’re gonna give me a family, Adelaide. You have no idea what that means to me.”

Adelaide’s hand moved to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing over his stubbled jaw. “Logan…I’ve always wanted to have this with you. A home. A family. You’ve given me so much already.”

Lovingly, Logan kissed her again, his touch rougher this time as his hands roamed over her body, rediscovering every inch. “No, darlin’. You’re givin’ me everything. And I’ll make damn sure you’re mine in every way.” His thrusts became deliberate, almost reverent, as he pushed himself into her once again, his gaze never leaving hers as her brows furrowed together from the intense stretch. “I’ll keep you safe,” He murmured, his voice dark with conviction. “No one will ever come near you or our child. And I’ll make sure of it every single day.” Adelaide trembled beneath him, his words sending a shiver through her. She could feel the weight of his devotion, his possessiveness, and it only deepened her love for him. Logan made love to her with purpose, his hands and lips worshiping her as though she were something sacred. “You’re mine, Adelaide. You’ll always be mine, and mine alone.”

Adelaide could do nothing but cling to him, her heart swelling with love and an unspoken thrill at the feral passion in his words. Logan Howlett wasn’t just her husband - he was her protector, her partner, and the father of the family they were about to create together.

By the time the morning light fully broke through the windows, they lay entwined, their breaths mingling as Logan rested his hand possessively over her stomach. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive, Adelaide,” He murmured, his voice softened by the weight of his emotions. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life showin’ you what you mean to me.”

Adelaide smiled, her heart swelling with love as she pressed a kiss to his chest. “You already do, Logan. Every single day.”

As Logan holds her close, he swears to himself that nothing will ever harm her or their growing family. He’ll do whatever it takes to protect them.

The house is quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft turn of the pages. Adelaide rests in the glow of the evening light, her hand absently brushing over the slight curve of her belly as she sits in the rocking chair Logan built for her while reading her Bible. When Logan walks in from his day’s work, dirt still on his boots and shirt undone at the collar, his gaze falls on her, and it’s as though the air shifts.

His eyes linger on the gentle swell of her belly, and a dark, possessive smile spreads across his face. “Darlin’,” He drawls, his voice low and gravelly as he sets his hat on the table. He crosses the room in a few strides, kneeling in front of her. His calloused hands come to rest on her thighs, sliding upward until they frame her small belly.

Adelaide looks down at him, her cheeks warm. “Logan, you’re filthy.” She teases softly, but the way she bites her lip betrays her amusement.

“You think that’s gonna stop me?” His hands tighten slightly, reverently, as his thumbs brush over her stomach. “Look at you. Carryin’ our baby. Do you know what that does to me?”

Her breath catches as he presses a kiss just below her belly button, the scruff of his beard sending shivers down her spine. She tries to maintain composure, but the way his touch lingers and his lips trail upward makes it impossible. “Logan…” She whispers, her fingers threading into his hair as he rises to his feet, towering over her.

“Evenin’s too short to waste time restin’, Mrs. Howlett.” He murmurs, his voice thick with adoration. He pulls her to her feet, one hand splayed possessively over her belly, the other tilting her chin up for a kiss that steals her breath. Adelaide sighs against him, her body already responding to the way he holds her as though she’s the most precious thing in the world. She tries to speak, but Logan doesn’t give her the chance, his lips trailing down her neck, his words setting her ablaze. “You’re mine, Adelaide. You and this baby - mine,” He growls, his voice rough but tender. “I’ll never stop remindin’ you of that.”

Her hands grip his arms, the strength beneath her fingers grounding her even as her knees weaken. “Logan,” She sighs, her voice breathy as her heart races.

He chuckles darkly, lifting her easily into his arms and carrying her to their room. “You keep sayin’ my name like that, darlin’, and I’ll never let you rest.”

Adelaide only clings to him, already knowing she won’t get a moment’s peace tonight - and not minding in the slightest.

The room is quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth and the occasional creak of the bed as Logan shifts slightly to hold Adelaide closer after their passionate display of affection. His large hand rests possessively over the slight swell of her belly, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over her skin. He’s utterly mesmerized, the thought of their child growing inside her filling him with a pride and tenderness he never thought he’d feel.

Adelaide tilts her head up from where it rests against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin. “Logan,” She murmurs, her voice soft and filled with curiosity. “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

Logan’s lips curve into a faint smirk as he looks down at her. “I don’t care, darlin’,” He says, his voice a low rumble. “Long as they’re healthy. Long as they’ve got a bit of your sweetness and enough of my grit to get by in this world.”

Adelaide smiles, but she presses him further. “But if you had to choose?”

Logan chuckles, his hand moving to gently rub her belly. “Well,” He drawls, thinking it over, “A son would be good. Someone I could teach to work the land, to stand his ground, and to keep his mama safe.” He pauses, his smirk softening into something deeper. “But a little girl? Lord, Adelaide, she’d have me wrapped around her finger the second I saw her. She’d have my heart, just like her mama.”

Adelaide’s cheeks flush at his words, and she nestles closer to him, her hand covering his on her belly. “Either way,” She says, her voice full of warmth, “They’re going to be so loved.”

Logan dips his head to kiss her hair, his other arm tightening around her. “Damn right, they will be. They’re ours, Adelaide. Our family. I’ll make sure they’ve got everything they could ever need.”

Adelaide sighs contentedly, her heart full as she listens to the steady beat of his. “You’re going to be a wonderful father, Logan,” She whispers, her voice laced with conviction. “They’re going to be so blessed to have you.”

Logan doesn’t answer right away. He just pulls her closer, burying his face in her hair. When he finally speaks, his voice is thick with emotion. “You’ve given me somethin’ I never thought I’d have, darlin’. A future. A family. I’ll never stop bein’ grateful for you.”

They lay there in the quiet, the weight of their love and the promise of the life they’re building settling over them like a warm, protective blanket.

The warm afternoon sun bathes the bustling town square as Logan and Adelaide linger after church, the congratulations from family and townsfolk filling the air like a steady hum of goodwill. Adelaide is glowing, her hand resting protectively on the gentle swell of her belly as older women pull her aside, offering advice and stories about motherhood. Logan leans against a nearby post, his sharp eyes following her every move. Pride and a deep, quiet love are written plainly on his face.

The cattlemen cluster around Logan, slapping his back and teasing him mercilessly. “Never thought we’d see the day, Howlett!” Jeb grins. “Settle down with a pretty gal and all.”

Logan smirks, his hat tipped low. “Reckon y’all were just waitin’ on me to show you how it’s done.” Adelaide glances at him and smiles, and he feels the familiar ache of devotion. She’s his whole world now - her and the child they’re bringing into it.

And then a voice cuts through the pleasant hum like a whipcrack.

“Logan!”

The sharp call freezes the air. Every sound in the square seems to dim as Logan turns slowly to face the voice. Eli stands at the edge of the crowd, his face is twisted in rage, his mutilated hand heavily wrapped in a crude bandage. In his good hand, a gun gleams, catching the midday sun, his eyes wild with hatred.

“Eli,” Logan says, his voice calm but edged with steel, “This ain’t the time or place. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”

The crowd begins to scatter, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through as people back away. Logan glances toward Adelaide, who is now surrounded by the older women and her sisters, her eyes widening as she spots Eli. “You took everything from me, Logan. Think you can just play house and forget what you’ve done?”

Logan steps forward, his posture steady, his hand instinctively moving toward the hilt of the knife tucked behind his belt. “You don’t wanna do this. Walk away, Eli. I’m warnin’ you.” But Eli doesn’t back down. His hand moves, faster than Logan expects.

The world seems to slow as Eli aims the barrel 1 not at Logan, but at Adelaide.

“No!” Logan moves without hesitation, his body a blur as he steps into the line of fire. The crack of the gunshot echoes across the churchyard, followed by a gasp from the crowd. Logan stumbles, clutching his chest as crimson blooms across his shirt. He drops to his knees, his breath hitching.

Jeb reacts in an instant, drawing his revolver and firing a single, precise shot. Eli crumples to the ground, lifeless.

But Logan isn’t focused on Eli. He’s focused on Adelaide.

“Logan!” Adelaide’s scream cuts through the chaos. She’s on her knees beside him, her hands pressed to his chest, trembling as she tries to stem the bleeding. Her eyes are wide, tearful, her voice cracking as she begs him to stay with her. “Logan,” She whispers, “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me.”

Logan reaches up, his hand brushing against her cheek. “It’s alright, darlin’,” He murmurs, his voice weak but steady. “I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I? Just…had to make good on that.”

“Don’t you dare leave us.” Adelaide cries, her voice breaking.

The world around him blurs, the voices fading into a distant hum. He can hear the preacher’s voice somewhere nearby, offering words of comfort “Reverend,” Logan rasps, his gaze unfocused. “A man like me…can he still…see heaven?”

The preacher kneels beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Redemption is for all, Logan. God sees your heart. You’ll see heaven.” Logan closes his eyes, the pain fading as a vision takes hold.

He sees a little girl with Adelaide’s eyes and his unruly hair, running barefoot through a field of wildflowers. He sees Adelaide, her laughter like music, calling out to their daughter. He sees their house by the river, a life filled with peace and love.

Logan smiles faintly. “Adelaide…” He whispers.

And then, without fear and with the knowledge that he has served his purpose, he lets darkness take him.

💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

I know, I know😭 I am so sorry, kind readers. I simply realized I have no stories with an unhappy ending and I wanted to try it one time🫠

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened @craziersarah98 @xxvendettaxx @chronicallybubbly @throwmethroughawindow @ethanhoewke @steviebbboi @littlemissoblivious @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes @ashlinxsloves @lexasaurs634 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @bananababblegigglemuffin @zaggprincess2 @xoxabs88xox @lokixryss @th3mrskory @imtherain @hermionelove

[ethanhoewke]

uhhhh did anyone else get this

[ethanhoewke]

just thinking insane thoughts about hugh in this fit <3 need to be his controversially younger gf now

[ethanhoewke]

[ethanhoewke]

~Fortday the Furnteenth~

Winter is temporary. Pamela’s love is forever.

Have a good day 💕