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"I Think You Know That Already" (logan howlett x f!reader)

18+ account - minors do not interact

wolverine/logan howlett x f!reader

Word Count: 12K (she’s long, but please still read this… grab a snack) 😅

Rating: E

Summary: After losing your job in Toronto, you return to your small town to live with your parents. While working for their guided fishing company, you meet Logan, a stoic man who works for your brother's logging company. As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, the small town's charm begins to seep into your soul once more. And slowly, you start to fall for Logan.

Warning: origins!logan, human reader, slow burn, sexual tension, mutual pining, alcohol, language, jealousy, angst, mentions of violence (logan describing his past), pet names, flirting, fluff, feelings, brief insecurity, consent king logan, shyness, dirty talk (filthy logan), size kink, teasing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex

A/N: Spent weeks on/off writing this one. Also, inspired by @d1stalker's This is Ours and the theme of returning home and questioning if that's enough to make you stay resonated with me. I took creative liberties with the Wolverine Origins plot. So, if it at any point you’re wondering: ‘wait did that really happen?’ The answer is probably no lol.

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

+ Logan Howlett / Wolverine Masterlist

Halliburton, Ontario

The sun was setting as your dad carried the last box from your sleek, high-rise apartment in Toronto to the waiting pickup truck. You took one last look at the city skyline, a bittersweet knot forming in your stomach.

It had been your dream to work in marketing for Estée Lauder, and for a while, that dream had been your reality. After earning your MBA, you had landed what seemed like the perfect job, climbing the corporate ladder. You had worked tirelessly, creating impactful campaigns, and had been proud of your achievements.

But then came the dreaded words: budget cuts. The layoff had felt so impersonal, like a harsh slap from a faceless entity. You'd excelled at your job, and yet, that hadn’t been enough. The stark reality of corporate life hit hard as you found yourself suddenly jobless, with your pride slightly bruised.

Determined to get back on your feet, you applied to countless positions. But as rejections piled up and two months slipped by, you realized finding a new job would take longer than anticipated in this shitty job market. Reluctantly, you made the difficult decision to move back home to save money and search for a job from there.

And now, here you were, unemployed and defeated, moving back to your small hometown with your tail between your legs.

Arriving home, the familiar scent of pine and lake water greeted you, pulling you back to simpler times. Your old bedroom, a time capsule of teenage memories, felt both comforting and confining as you began unpacking your things. The posters on the walls, the childhood trinkets on the shelves—they all seemed to whisper, "Welcome back, loser!"

As you sank onto the bed, exhaustion and frustration mingling in your mind, your father knocked lightly on the door. "How are you holding up?"

"I feel like a failure, Dad," you admitted, unable to meet his eyes.

He sat down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "It's just a bump in the road, honey," Your father gave you a comforting smile. "This is temporary. You'll find your footing again,"

You sighed, feeling slightly reassured but still overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all. "I hope so Dad,"

"Is it wrong that I'm a little happy you'll be around longer than just a weekend or a holiday?" he asked.

You looked up at him, surprised by his honesty. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "No, it's not wrong. I guess I'm happy too. It's been a while since I've spent much time at home,"

Your father nodded. "You'll be okay. Tomorrow, you can start helping your mother and me. We'll ease you back into things—maybe you can start by working reception and reviewing some of the accounting with her while I do some tours."

You nodded, appreciating his attempt to lift your spirits. The guided fishing company had been the backbone of your family's livelihood for years. Business had been good—Halliburton attracted a ton of tourists year-round, eager to experience the natural beauty and serenity of the lakes. During the busy seasons, your parents were able to run tours almost daily, catering to everyone from novice anglers to experienced fishermen.

However, there were times when business slowed down, particularly in the off-seasons. During these periods, your parents often helped out with your brother's logging and wood management company that he had started about six years ago. It was a family effort, everyone pitching in to ensure that both businesses thrived.

You said goodnight to your father and made your way to the bathroom, the tiredness finally catching up with you. As you brushed your teeth and got ready for bed, your phone buzzed on the counter. You glanced at the screen, and your heart sank when you saw the name: Remy, your high school ex-boyfriend.

Hey, heard you’re back in town. Long time no see.

You scoffed, feeling a surge of annoyance. Of course, word traveled fast in this small town.

You rolled your eyes and tossed the phone onto your bed. The last thing you wanted was to rekindle old flames or entertain the curiosity of people who were once part of a past you’d outgrown. The pettiness of small-town gossip already felt suffocating, and you’d only been back for a few hours.

Sliding under the covers, you tried to push the irritation out of your mind. This was just one more thing you’d have to navigate, along with job hunting and settling back into life in Halliburton. As you turned off the light, you took a deep breath and reminded yourself that this was only temporary. Tomorrow, you’d start fresh and figure out the next steps,

One fucking day at a time.

A week had passed, and you’d forgotten how draining paperwork could be. Your parents' guided fishing company was in full swing, with tourists flooding in to experience the serene lakes and abundant fish. The summer rush meant you were slammed with bookings, schedules, and the constant buzz of the phone.

As you sorted through a mountain of invoices, receipts, and booking confirmations, you heard the familiar creak of the front door. Your brother walked in, bringing with him a gust of fresh air. But he wasn’t alone. Beside him stood a man who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a rugged outdoorsman's catalog. He had an imposing presence, his piercing eyes and disheveled hair giving him a wild, yet oddly magnetic look.

"Logan!" Your mother exclaimed, immediately crossing the room to wrap him in a hug. "How are you doing, dear? Settling in alright at your new place?"

Logan returned her hug with a genuine smile, his rough exterior momentarily softened. "Yes, ma'am, doin’ just fine. The place is nice and quiet, just what I needed."

You watched the exchange with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. It was clear that Logan was someone your mother knew, yet you couldn't remember ever meeting him. He seemed incredibly polite, his demeanor respectful and his words measured.

Your mother stepped back, still smiling. "Good to hear. If you need anything, don't hesitate to let us know,"

Your brother turned to you. "This is Logan. He moved here a few months ago and he's been a big help with the logging company,"

Logan gave you a once-over, his piercing eyes taking in every detail in a way that made you acutely aware of how out of place you felt in your designer outfit. Your tailored dress, stacked heels, lipstick, and styled hair suddenly made you feel ridiculous.

He looked every bit the part of a man who spent his days in the wilderness—tall, muscular, with a wild edge that was hard to ignore.

You extended a hand. "Nice to meet you,"

Logan's grip was firm, a contrast to your softer, manicured hands, and his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that was hard to ignore. "Likewise," he said curtly.

You bristled at his tone but forced a polite smile. "Glad to have you around."

Logan tilted his head slightly, as if assessing you, and then nodded. You could sense his hesitation—or perhaps his judgment—as he appraised you. There was an undeniable wariness, as if he was trying to place you in a box that didn’t quite fit.

"Hey, why don't you come out to McKeck's tonight?" your brother suggested, turning to you with a hopeful expression. "Me and my lady are heading over. It's been a while since we all had a good night out,"

Your brother was recently engaged, and his fiancée was someone you'd grown to love like a sister over the years. You sighed, shaking your head. "I'm not interested in bumping into people from high school. I've been trying to keep a low profile,"

"Oh, come on," he pressed, "it'll be fun. You can't hide forever. Besides, it might be good for you to get out and relax a bit,"

You hesitated, weighing your options. The idea of seeing old acquaintances was less than appealing, but the thought of sitting at home feeling sorry for yourself wasn't much better. Your brother and his fiancée had been one of the few bright spots in the chaos of your return home. You knew that a night out with them wouldn't be so bad. In fact, it might be exactly what you needed to lift your spirits. Finally, you relented. "Alright, fine. I'll go,"

"Great!" your brother said, visibly pleased. Then he turned to Logan, who had been standing silently. "Logan, you want to join us?"

Logan's eyes flicked to you briefly before he answered, his tone as cold as ever. "No thanks. Not interested."

You couldn't help but feel a pang of irritation. It was hard to tell if his response was simply in response to a bad day or… if he was just a fucking asshole.

"Suit yourself," your brother shrugged, clearly used to Logan's demeanor.

Logan glanced around the room before turning back to you. "I'll be in the car," he said abruptly, directing the statement more towards your brother than you. With that, he walked out, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Your brother watched him leave and then turned back to you, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "He's an interesting guy, huh?"

You rolled your eyes and snorted. "That's one way to put it,"

"I'm going to talk to Dad about a business expense real quick. I won't be long," he said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

You nodded. "Dad’s out back on one of the boats. He and his crew had some issues this morning with one of the parts. They’re working on replacing it now,"

Your brother gave a quick nod. "Got it. I’ll head out there and talk to him,”

As your brother headed off to talk to your dad, you turned to your mother, curiosity getting the better of you. "How do you know Logan?" you asked, trying to sound casual, opening up a water bottle.

Your mother glanced around, as if she was making sure no one else was listening, even though it was just the two of you. She lowered her voice, her expression becoming serious. "We actually found him naked in the barn a few months ago,"

Your eyes widened in shock. "What? Are you serious?" She had caught you off guard and you started choking a bit on the sip of water you had just taken.

She nodded, her voice still hushed. "Yes. It was at night, and we heard something rustling in the barn. When your father and I went to check, we found Logan there. He was... well, let's just say he wasn't in a good state."

You raised an eyebrow. "Not in a good state? What do you mean?" you sputtered after you got control over your coughing.

"He was naked and looked completely lost, like he had been through something traumatic," she whispered.

"That's... unbelievable. And you just took him in? You didn’t find that a little dangerous?" you asked, incredulous.

"We couldn't just leave him out there," she said softly. "We gave him some clothes, a meal, and a place to stay. He was so grateful, and once he started to recover, he began helping out around here and then we hired him at your brother's logging company,"

You shook your head, still trying to process the information. "But why was he in the barn?”

Your mother hesitated, then leaned closer. "He's a mutant," she whispered. "He has these... abilities. I don't know much about it, but I think whatever he was running from wasn't pretty,"

The revelation left you stunned. You looked toward the door where Logan had exited, your mind racing with questions. Your family had always been kind and welcoming, but taking in a mutant who appeared out of nowhere—naked and alone—was a whole new level of generosity.

It was also fucking crazy.

"Does Dad know about this?" you asked.

"Of course," your mother said. "Your father helped him find the cabin he’s currently renting. We both agreed that helping him was the right thing to do. I think he's had a rough life, but he's a good man, deep down."

You stood there, your mom’s revelation swirling in your mind, unable to fully grasp the implications of what she had just shared. The image of Logan—naked and vulnerable in the barn—was vivid and jarring.

Your mother must have sensed the shock lingering in your expression, because she leaned in closer, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I’m not usually one to gossip, but when we found him that night… well, let’s just say I saw everything." She raised her eyebrows at you.

You blinked, feeling heat rise in your cheeks. "Mom!" You exclaimed, horrified at what she was insinuating.

She shrugged, trying to hold back a smile. "Honey, I’m older, not blind. I saw what was, and let me tell you—he’s objectively a very handsome man. Especially in that state, I can appreciate that. If you know what I mean."

You felt your mouth drop open in disbelief as the imagery invaded your thoughts again. "Mom… Stop talking!"

She chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, and raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, but you have to admit, he’s quite a sight. And, come on, a story like that adds a bit of excitement to our little corner of Halliburton, doesn’t it?"

You frowned, running your hands down your face in exasperation. "Oh my god,”

"Okay, sorry… I just thought you could use a laugh,"

You took a breath, letting her words settle. "I know. It’s just… a lot. A mutant? And now he's helping out. What are the odds?"

"Crazy odds, but isn’t that how life always seems to go?" she replied, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Yeah," you muttered, still processing everything. "Thanks for the distraction, I guess."

Your mom grinned. "That’s what I’m here for. Now, let’s get some lunch before the next tour rolls in."

More time had passed since your unexpected return home, and despite the initial chaos of moving back in and jumping straight into the family business, life had settled into a strange rhythm. You were finding small pockets of joy in your daily routine—until it came to Logan.

Logan’s presence at the logging company consistently turned what should have been normal interactions into a confusing dance. He was unfailingly polite when your family was around, but whenever it was just the two of you, it felt like you were trying to engage with a brick wall. His responses were curt, one-word answers that felt both dismissive and annoying. It was as if he was solely determined to keep you at arm’s length, and it left you wondering what you could possibly have done to provoke such an aloof attitude.

You had tried making conversation, asking him about how he was adjusting to life in Halliburton, but every time, he managed to steer the interaction back into silence faster than you could follow. You remembered the last time you tried to engage him—asking about his work with your brother’s logging company. His eyes hadn’t even lifted from the pile of logs he was stacking. "It’s fine," he replied, barely looking your way. The encounter had left you fuming internally, as irritation swirled into confusion.

Back in Toronto, you would have chalked his behavior up to some sort of social anxiety, but it didn’t feel that way with him. He seemed comfortable enough with your family, but around you, he maintained a cautious distance, and that left you feeling like an outsider.

One particular morning, you decided to pay your brother a visit at the logging site. As you stepped out of your car, taking in the scent of fresh-cut wood mixed with the cool, crisp air, everything seemed to come alive with the sounds of machinery and laughter. Your brother spotted you and waved, drawing you into the action.

As you made your way closer, a couple of the loggers greeted you. They were a friendly bunch, used to seeing your face around for years. But today, one logger, Wade Wilson, stood out. He approached you with an easy grin. "Hey there, haven’t seen you in a while, Sugar," he said with a wink, lifting his head arrogantly.

You couldn't help but snap at Wade’s greeting. "Wade, I can't believe you’re still calling girls that. Isn't your wife expecting? How's she doing?"

Wade chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, she is. Due in a couple of months. She's doing great," he stammered quickly.

While his flirting was ‘innocent’, you couldn't help but be reminded of your past and why you were currently single. Your most recent ex-boyfriend had shattered your trust completely. He had been seeing someone else behind your back, and the betrayal stung deeply.

Men could be such assholes.

Your sass elicited a chorus of laughter from the other loggers. Their hearty chuckles filled the air, lightening the mood. You glanced around, catching sight of Logan. To your surprise, you saw the corners of his mouth lift slightly, as if he was fighting off a smile.

"Good to hear," you replied dryly. "You better be on your best behavior, then."

Wade laughed, dropping his voice a little and hovering just a little too close. "Always am."

Men, you thought, shaking your head.

With a brief wave goodbye, you walked toward the small clearing on the site where your brother was directing some work.

"Hey, I need a second pair of eyes on the budget for the new logging contracts. You got a minute?" He motioned for you to join him by a table stacked high with papers and plans.

"Sure," you replied, still feeling the lingering irritation from Wade's comment.

"How's the job hunting going?" your brother asked, clearly picking up on your mood.

"Not great," you replied tersely, unable to hide your frustration.

Your brother studied your face for a moment. "Looks like you could use some stress relief." He handed you the axe he was holding, the weight of it heavy in your hands. "Why don't you blow off some steam?"

"You think I need to blow off steam?" you mumbled.

Some of the loggers nearby paused their work to watch, murmuring among themselves. "This ought to be good," one of them said, not bothering to hide the skepticism in his voice.

You scrunched your eyes closed and your heart raced in irritation.

Before you could respond further, whispers floated among the loggers. "A woman swinging an axe?" one of them chuckled, while another piped in, “Hope she doesn’t drop it on her foot,”

Your brother overheard the comments and smirked, leaning in closer. "Yeah, I think you do need to blow off some steam. Now, go on, and show them what's up,"

His encouragement made your frustration turn into determination. You were not going to let their snickers—or their poorly veiled doubts—hold you back. Straightening your posture, you stepped away from the table, positioning yourself by an old, weathered tree log that had seen better days. Some of the loggers shuffled over, resting their arms on machinery, excitement dancing in their eyes as they anticipated the impending display.

You were wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and beaten-up Converse shoes—having decided to stop dressing as if you still worked for the beauty company that laid you off, and you grasped the axe with a determined grip, ignoring the murmurs around you.

With a fluid motion, you lifted the axe high above your head and brought it down with all your strength. It struck the tree log perfectly, the blade sinking deep into the wood with a resounding thunk. The loggers fell silent, clearly impressed by the clean cut. Even Logan, standing at a distance, seemed to raise an eyebrow, his usual guarded expression momentarily slipping.

Your brother grinned, turning to the men. "Just a reminder—our Dad raised her as if she was his second son,"

"Whoa! Nice shot!" one logger called out.

Another chimed in, "You’re stronger than you look!"

Logan stood slightly behind the group, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought you caught a flicker of approval in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, hiding behind that familiar mask of indifference.

A few days later, you found yourself in the kitchen, helping your mother cook. The smell of freshly caught trout filled the air, as you had spent the day fishing and brought home a decent haul. Your brother’s fiancée was setting the table, humming a cheerful tune as she arranged the plates and cutlery.

You were lost in the rhythm of chopping vegetables when the doorbell rang. Startled, you wiped your hands on a kitchen towel and made your way to the door, not expecting any other visitors.

Opening the door, you were surprised to see Logan standing there, looking quite different from his usual self. He was dressed in slacks and a clean shirt, holding a dessert in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"Logan? What are you doing here?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious about your own appearance. You looked like shit.

"Your mother invited me," he said simply, head bowed down, shoving the flowers and dessert into your hands. "These are for her,"

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by his visit and the thoughtful gesture. "Oh, um, thanks. Come in,"

Logan stepped inside, his usual stoic demeanor intact. You closed the door behind him and led the way to the kitchen.

"Mom, Logan's here," you called out, handing her the flowers and dessert. You shot her a look that clearly said, what the fuck?

Your mother turned with a warm smile, catching your look and responding with a subtle, knowing glance of her own. "Logan, how lovely it is to see you. Thank you for these," she said, placing the flowers in a vase and the dessert on the counter. "Make yourself at home,"

You glanced at Logan, still taken aback by his presence in your home. Trying to push past the awkwardness, you offered, "Would you like a beer?"

"Sure," he replied, his tone neutral.

You handed him a cold beer from the fridge, noting the way his rough hands contrasted with the polished glass. "My brother and father are out in the backyard getting the grill ready so that they can make the trout in a bit. You can go help them if you'd like,"

Logan nodded, taking the beer from you. "I'll do that," he said, his penetrating gaze briefly meeting yours again. There was something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place—an unreadable expression that made you wonder what he was thinking.

About twenty minutes later, when the boys let you know the trout was almost finished, you decided to quickly get changed. You dashed upstairs and slipped into a light sundress, the soft fabric feeling refreshing against your skin. You contemplated putting on some makeup but then decided against it, opting for a natural look instead.

As you descended the stairs, the sounds of laughter and conversation grew louder. You entered the dining room just as everyone was starting to gather around the table. Logan was already there, his eyes catching yours as you approached. His gaze lingered a moment longer than usual, and you noticed a subtle shift in his expression. It made your heart jump in your throat. As you took your seat at the table, you couldn’t help but feel nervous for some reason.

Your father walked in just then, arms wide as he greeted everyone at the table. He approached your mother with a big smile and leaned in to give her a loving kiss on the cheek. "Alright, everyone, let's dig in!" your father announced, taking his seat at the head of the table.

As everyone settled into their seats and began to serve themselves, your father glanced over at you. "Thank you for getting us some fish today, honey,"

You felt your cheeks heat up slightly and waved off the compliment modestly. "Oh, it was nothing. Just got lucky, I guess,"

But your father shook his head, his smile growing wider. "No, it's not just luck. That's what's so great about having you home again—you always get the best catches,"

You could feel everyone's eyes on you, and you gave a small, embarrassed smile. Logan, sitting across from you, observed the interaction with a curious expression.

In Toronto, you sometimes felt like people didn’t know the real you—the one who grew up hiking through dense forests, fishing in lakes, and camping under the stars. In a town like this, you sort of had to be outdoorsy, and you loved every bit of it. Your mother used to get annoyed at your father for treating you like one of the ‘boys’. But over the years, she had come to appreciate it. And so did you because your father never treated you any differently than your brother, teaching you the same skills, and pushing you to be just as capable.

The food was incredible, freshly cooked and seasoned to perfection. Lively conversations erupted across the table, and laughter soon filled the air. You found yourself enjoying the company, but Logan remained somewhat of an outlier. While everyone else shared stories and jokes, he quietly participated but never truly engaged.

As the evening progressed and plates emptied, you found yourself catching Logan’s eye more than once.

At one point, your brother leaned back in his chair, looking contemplative. "So, Logan, any ideas for that upcoming contract with John Wraith?"

Logan nodded, his posture straightening as he spoke about the upcoming work. His voice became more animated, and for a moment, it was as if you were seeing a different side of him. You leaned forward, genuinely interested, as he explained the equipment they would be using and the strategies they’d thought of implementing.

"That sounds like a solid plan," you said, trying to engage him. "You seem to really know what you’re doing,"

Logan’s usual stoic demeanor softened for just a moment. "It’s not that special," he shrugged.

Your mother interjected, smiling brightly. "He’s being humble. Logan has been a huge help. We’re really grateful,"

Logan’s cheeks flushed slightly at the praise, and he returned to his beer as if it somehow had the power to shield him from any further attention.

As you began clearing the dishes and tidying up the table, Logan approached you with a soft clink of his empty beer bottle. "Need some help?" he asked, nodding toward the stack of dirty dishes.

You shook your head, offering a polite smile. "There's no need for that," You automatically argued. “You're a guest,"

"I want to," he replied, his tone firm but not unkind.

Taken aback by his insistence, you handed him a dish towel. "Alright, if you insist,"

Logan rolled up his sleeves and started washing the plates, methodically scrubbing them clean. You stood beside him, drying and stacking the dishes in silence. The quiet between you was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the awkwardness you had felt before.

From the living room, you could hear your family discussing which movie to watch, their voices mingling with the soft clatter of dishes being cleaned.

As you worked side by side, you occasionally stole glances at Logan from under your lashes. He was focused on the task at hand, but there was a subtle softness in his expression that you hadn't noticed before. The simple act of washing dishes together felt oddly intimate, a shared moment that seemed to bridge the gap between his guarded exterior and the person he was beneath.

When the last dish was dried and put away, Logan finally broke the silence. "Thanks for lettin’ me help,"

You smiled, feeling a genuine something in your chest. "Thank you for helping. It was nice,"

He gave a small nod. "Yeah, it was,"

"Why do you always act like you want nothing to do with me?" you found yourself asking, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He looked up, surprise flashing across his face but it was quickly replaced by the usual neutrality. Logan paused, taking a breath as if weighing his words carefully. "It’s nothin’ personal," he stated, and you caught a glimpse of uncertainty behind those piercing hazel eyes. "I’m just… not used to this," you frowned at his response, and he took notice. "to people. I’m workin’ on it, but it’s takin’ me some time."

"I get that," you replied, realizing you might have judged him a little too harshly.

He looked down, nodding slowly as if digesting your words. "It's just… different here," he admitted.

"Different can be good," you offered.

He met your eyes, the intensity capturing you once more. "Oh yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Why not?" you replied, your heart felt lighter in your chest.

He stared at you for a long moment, perhaps weighing your comment against whatever doubts he had. "I guess you’re right," he said finally in agreement, and for the first time, you got to admire what would become one of your favorite sights. The white of his teeth and the wrinkles around his eyes that accompanied his big smile.

And that’s when you realized or perhaps were finally admitting…that your mother had been right.

Logan was fucking handsome.

A month had passed since Logan’s unexpected arrival at your home, and things had shifted. It felt as if the walls he had built around himself had begun to subtly crumble, revealing glimpses of a man that you were insanely attracted too.

He had begun to open up, albeit slowly —he was still far from being the biggest talker, but the once awkward and tense encounters between you and Logan had gradually evolved into a comfortable familiarity.

Yet, there remained a question lingering in the back of your mind—what was he hiding? It didn’t escape you that he still had never mentioned being a mutant, nor did he ever talk about what led to his arrival in Halliburton. And then one crisp afternoon, he was forced to reveal it to you. You had decided to join him on a solo trip to retrieve supplies from the logging site. It was now officially the first day of fall. The leaves were in their peak season, vibrant shades of orange and gold illuminating the serene landscape around you. You took in the beauty of it all, walking slightly ahead of him, a sense of contentment enveloping you.

As you approached the equipment storage area, you noticed an old stack of wooden crates next to the shed.

"Logan, I’ll take that one over there," you said, pointing enthusiastically to one of the crates.

He paused, surveying the stack with a hint of concern. "Let me do it. They look unstable."

"Scared I can’t handle it?" you teased.

You went over and began pushing against one of the crates, feeling the weight shift slightly. Just as you leaned in for a better look, the entire stack began to teeter dangerously. Your heart dropped as the crates started to topple over, and within seconds, you found yourself trapped beneath one of the larger boxes. The slam of wood against the ground echoed sharply in the air, and your thoughts raced in shock.

You yelled, feeling the pressure of the wooden crate pinning you down. Panic surged through you as fear set in. The weight was heavier than you expected, and you struggled against it.

You were dimly aware of Logan’s movement beside you, his eyes widening in alarm as he rushed to your side. "Shit, hold on!" he shouted, and then his eyes sharpened with focus as he crouched beside you.

In one swift and fluid motion, he lifted the crate overhead with one hand, revealing the glint of something sharp protruding from his knuckles. Time seemed to freeze for an instant as your heart raced. Logan suddenly had metal claws—long, sharp, and glistening in the sunlight—extend from his knuckles.

You could hardly process the revelation as he pried the crate off you, using the claws to slice through the wooden slats from the side and releasing you from the weight. "Are you okay?" he asked urgently, dropping the crate and focusing on your face.

Confusion flooded your mind, mixing with the pain radiating from your shoulder where the crate had pressed down too hard. "I—Hmm, I think I’m okay?" you gasped, hating your clumsiness, and still in disbelief at what you had just seen.

Logan's expression shifted into one of concern as you tried to sit up. "Let me see," he said, carefully reaching for your shoulder. "That hurt?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly, softer now as he focused on you.

With a shake of your head, you breathed hard, your chest rising and falling quickly as you tried to make sense of everything. "No…just… a little sore," you managed to say, blinking through the haze of injury to ensure you were really seeing what was happening.

Logan's helped you sit up, his strong grip steadying you. As you sat up fully, you winced, checking your shoulder for any visible damage. "I think it's just bruised," you murmured, glancing back at him. "I didn't expect you to have… claws." Your voice trailed off, the reality of it washing over you with a newfound clarity.

Logan pulled back slightly, his body language shifting to something more guarded. "I’m sorry if I scared you,"

You steadied yourself, heart racing from the adrenaline and the shock. Taking a breath to calm yourself, you reached out and grabbed his face gently, fingertips brushing against his jaw. You quickly were becoming obsessed with the feel of his coarse hair beneath your fingers. His surprise at the gesture flickered in his hazel eyes, and he stilled under your touch.

"You didn’t scare me," you said, despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within you. "I just want you to know that." You wanted him to understand the sincerity behind your words. Logan seemed to relax at your touch, his posture less rigid as if he was finally allowing a crack in his armor.

"But I have to be honest with you," you continued, your heart pounding as you prepared to reveal what you knew. "My mom told me the first time I met you… that you were a mutant,"

A knowing smile crept across his face. "Oh, she did, did she?"

Your brow creased in confusion slightly taken aback by his reaction, but relieved he wasn’t angry. "Wait, how did you know she told me?"

"I could hear her the moment I stepped inside the car," he explained, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "You’d be surprised what you can pick up when you listen closely." His grin deepened.

"Wait, you… you can hear things from far away?" you asked, a bit baffled.

"Yeah. My mutation isn’t just ‘bout…" he gestured towards his claws, which had retracted back into his knuckles, "this. I can see, smell and pick up sounds at distances that ordinary humans can’t."

You were captivated by his revelation, and it made sense, the intensity in his stare and the way he often seemed almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. "That’s incredible," you breathed.

Logan shrugged, a hint of bashfulness tinging his demeanor. "It’s more of a burden than a gift. Hearin’ what others wanna keep private? It can get overwhelmin’ sometimes," he confessed.

"So, you heard her talk about your…?" You trailed off, the memory of her earlier comment about seeing his fucking dick lacing your thoughts.

"What?" he pressed, a teasing edge creeping into his voice.

"Nothing," you said, but a laugh tugged at your lips, thinking about how your mother had spoken so freely… about him. "Let’s just say your appeal runs deeper than your good looks." You fumbled through your words.

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rich. "Is that right?"

"D-definitely," you stammered, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you realized how intimately you were discussing him. "There’s clearly a lot more beneath the surface." You mused.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your directness. "What else d’you think is beneath the surface?" he asked, his drop voicing an octave.

You felt a flutter of nerves at his question, uncertain of how deeply you wanted to delve into the topic. "Well," you began, trying to maintain a lighthearted tone while your heart raced, "you obviously have been through some shit." you said carefully. "You don’t just show up naked in a barn unless you’re running from something… or someone."

He remained still, expression unreadable for a moment, and silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken truths. "You’re right," he eventually admitted.

You pressed on. "You don’t have to share if you’re not ready. I just want you to know that you can trust me,"

He let out a breath, almost a sigh, as if your words had eased some unnamable weight on his shoulders. "I appreciate that," he said quietly. "But it’s not that easy. I’m not ready to dive into it all that just yet, sweetheart," Logan finally said.

The term of endearment was not lost on you.

You looked into Logan's eyes, feeling the depth of his struggle and the weight he carried. Gently, you said, "That's okay, Logan. I'll wait for you, whenever you're ready."

For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, and he seemed to lean in slightly, his eyes flickering to your lips. But then, he shifted, and instead, he placed a caring kiss on your forehead. Your heart fluttered at the unexpected sweetness.

Logan pulled back, his expression a mixture of relief and something you couldn't quite name—perhaps gratitude. "Thank you," he muttered.

You smiled, feeling a sense of closeness and understanding between you that hadn't been there before. "Anytime,"

After your vulnerable moment with Logan, the air between you felt charged with unspoken possibilities. But life had a way of interrupting heartwarming moments, and a couple of days later, you found yourself back in the rhythm of daily responsibilities. It was a crisp afternoon when your father announced he needed to run some errands in town, and you volunteered to accompany him. Your brother also decided to tag along.

Your father yapped as he drove, his good spirits infectious, and you found comfort in the mundane routine. City life had shaped you in many ways, and you had become a city girl in some respects, comfortable with the fast-paced lifestyle. But being back here, surrounded by the serene beauty of nature and the simplicity of small-town life, you realized how much you missed it… and loved it. You had spent so much time trying to leave this place, chasing opportunities, that you sometimes forgot how beautiful and grounding it was here.

As you approached the hardware store, the sun glinted off the glass windows, warming the autumn colors looming in the trees. You all parked and got out, but as you walked toward the entrance, your father paused, scanning the street before a small smile crept onto his face.

"Look over there," he said, tilting his head toward a little café.

You followed his gaze and felt your heart drop. There was Logan, standing by the entrance, chatting with Kayla Silverfox, a striking woman famed around town not just for her beauty but for her magnetic personality. She had a way of drawing people in, and apparently Logan was no exception. He wore a casual smile, his demeanor relaxed as he spoke with her, yet you couldn't ignore the way she leaned in closer, her laughter ringing out.

Suddenly, that intimate moment you’d shared felt distant and almost naive.

Your brother nudged your side with an elbow. "Looks like Logan's making friends,” he remarked, clearly pleased with the sight. "That's good for him. He could use a little more ‘sunshine’ in his life."

You forced a chuckle, plastering a fake fucking smile on your face. "Yeah, I guess so," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant when the reality was anything but.

Just as you were about to retreat into your own thoughts, you caught Logan glancing in your direction. His expression shifted for the briefest second — surprise and then something else. You couldn’t tell. But just as quickly, he reclaimed his focus on Kayla, who was animatedly speaking, her fingers inadvertently brushing against his arm.

"Seems like they are hitting it off," your father snickered, oblivious to the internal conflict brewing inside you. "Maybe we could invite them over for dinner soon," he added playfully with a wink.

The ache settled deeper in your chest. You wanted to believe that what you had shared the other day meant something significant, that something was there. But watching him talk with Kayla brought that hope crashing down.

"Sure, Dad," you replied, keeping your tone steady despite the emotions spiraling within. Your father and brother continued to chat about how they enjoyed seeing Logan integrate into the community, and while you nodded absentmindedly, your focus remained on her.

Kayla's laughter rang out again, and somehow it felt sharper this time, digging into your resolve, as if the universe was mocking you. Logan seemed enchanted, and despite the pull of your heart aching for him, you forced yourself to stay composed.

As you turned to head into the store, you caught one last glimpse of Logan. He smiled at something Kayla said, and your stomach twisted painfully.

What you felt for him, what you had shared—it couldn’t have been insignificant, could it? You wanted to believe there was more to the kiss on your forehead the other day. But logic argued otherwise. Logan was allowed to have conversations and interactions that didn’t involve you, especially if he felt more comfortable doing so with someone like Kayla.

"Let’s grab what we need and then head back," your brother suggested, pulling you from your thoughts. You nodded as you followed him inside the store, but inside of you, a storm raged.

The noises around you turned into a dull roar, and you settled into a methodical routine of browsing, mentally pushing aside your emotions.

"You okay?" your brother asked, glancing sideways at you as he picked up some supplies.

"Yeah, just thinking," you replied, avoiding his probing gaze.

Later that day, you were organizing supplies at your parents’ fishing tour company when you heard the creak of the front door and glanced up just in time to see Logan walk in. His boots thudded softly against the wooden floor as he approached, each step bringing him closer.

"Hey," he started, his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. You wiped your hands on your jeans, trying to maintain your composure despite the jumble of emotions inside.

"Hey," you replied, deliberately keeping your tone light.

Logan glanced around, ensuring no one was within earshot. "I saw you today,”

Your mind raced back to that moment, the sight of him laughing with Kayla still fresh. “Yeah. I saw you too,” you replied, hoping your tone conveyed indifference while your heart sank.

"I wanted to clear the air," he blurted out, and you felt your back straighten up at his words. "What you saw... it isn’t what you think."

Your pulse quickened, curiosity mingling with frustration. "What do you mean? I mean, you can talk to whoever you want, Logan. It’s not like I have a say in it." You forced a casualness into your tone that felt brittle.

His expression shifted, a frown passing over his features. "You’ve got it all wrong. I—" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "I don’t want that."

"She’s very beautiful," you said, trying to mask the hurt in your voice.

"I guess," Logan shrugged, "but I don’t want her. She’s not who I’m interested in."

Your heart skipped a beat, the intensity of his gaze drawing you in. "Who are you interested in, then?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

Logan took a step closer, his voice lowering. “I think y’know that already.”

The admission caught you off guard. "What do you want?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Logan stepped closer. "I wanna talk to you. Can you come over to my cabin tonight?"

You hesitated, your heart racing at the unexpected invitation. "Why?" you asked cautiously.

He ran a hand through his hair as he spoke, visibly processing whatever thoughts were swirling inside. "I wanna cook you dinner and talk," he finally said, his voice low and edged with something deeper.

"Talk about what?" you pressed.

"Bout’ the night I showed up at your parents' barn," Logan confessed, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his expression.

"You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to," you said.

"No," he insisted, his tone firm yet gentle. "I do. I wanna be honest with you,"

"Okay," you finally said, swallowing your nerves. "I’ll come over,"

"Good," he replied, a cascade of relief washing over his features.

The remainder of the day edged on with a flurry of anticipation. You tried to focus on your work, yet thoughts of the evening filled your mind.

When the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dock, you left work with a mix of nerves and excitement. After a quick change into a maxi skirt and sweater, you made your way to Logan’s cabin, feeling your heart flutter in anticipation.

You knocked on the door, and when Logan opened it, the glow of his cabin welcomed you in. The smell of something delicious wafted through the air, and Logan smiled, that familiar kindness creeping into his eyes. Logan was dressed in a well-fitted, dark red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms. He paired it with a pair of jeans that looked comfortably worn-in, and his usual boots.

"Hi," he said lightly, extending his hand to beckon you inside.

As you stepped in, the door behind you closed. Logan’s cabin was cozy, with rustic charm and hints of his personality scattered around—fishing gear leaning against the walls and photographs of nature framed on the shelves.

"I hope you don’t mind," you said, holding up the bottle of red wine you had brought with you, "I thought this might pair well with whatever you’re cooking."

"Thank you, you didn’t have to do that,"

You followed him into the kitchen, settling onto a bar stool by the counter as he pulled out a corkscrew. "So, what exactly are you making?" you asked, watching him with keen interest.

"Just a little pasta," he replied, the cork popping free as he extracted it with ease. "Nothin’ fancy. I hope you’re not picky," he said with a smirk before turning his full attention back to the bottle.

"I’m not—I’m sure it will be good. Smells amazing," you replied, clearing your throat awkwardly.

Once he poured two generous glasses of wine, he slid one toward you, your hands brushing together as you took it. The brief contact sent a pleasant jolt through your system.

"Thanks," you said, looking at him for a moment longer than usual.

Finally, when dinner was served, you sat together at his dining table adorned with candles. It kind of felt like…a date. Is that what this was? The food was incredible – his homemade sauce was to die for. The man could fucking cook. As the night wore on, the lighthearted chatter gradually faded, replaced by a more serious atmosphere. The weight of the conversation you had both been avoiding hung in the air.

"My real name is James,” he began.

You felt your heart skip a beat at the unexpected revelation, sensing the significance of what he was about to share.

"I haven’t told anyone that in a long time," he admitted, shifting in his seat, his eyes locking onto yours. "I used to work with a man named Stryker who recruited mutants with unique abilities. We were brought together to form what he called Team X,"

You could see the shadows of his past lurking behind his eyes, and your heart ached for him as he continued. "We completed missions abroad, but they were far from honorable. During one mission in Nigeria, Stryker ordered us to kill villagers who wouldn't cooperate. I couldn't stand by and watch that, so I intervened, stoppin’ them from killin’ a woman."

He leaned back slightly, his eyes darkening at the memory. "The violence, the lack of humanity—it wasn't somethin’ I could keep doing’. So, I quit."

Your stomach knotted at the intensity in his tone and the anguish etched on his features was hard to bear.

Logan's expression grew even more somber. "Years after I left, Stryker tracked me down. He told me one of my old teammates had gone rogue and was hunting down the rest of the team. He convinced me to undergo an adamantium transfusion procedure to take him down. The process was excruciating—I had metal grafted to all of my bones."

A chill ran down your spine as you imagined, the pain he endured, the helplessness in his voice making you wish you could take his pain away and comfort him.

Logan's hands clenched into fists as he spoke, the memories clearly painful. "Once the procedure was done, I realized the truth. Stryker had tricked me. I wasn't there to stop my teammate. He had already killed him and the rest of the team—I was a test subject. Stryker wanted to see if the adamantium bonding could be done, and once he succeeded, he was gonna kill me to cover his tracks."

You wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, to somehow make it right, but you remained rooted in place, holding onto his piercing gaze.

His expression hardened, a flicker of anger crossing his features. "But I wasn't going to let that happen. So, I killed Stryker and everyone else in that facility. I broke out and escaped…and that was the night I ended up in your parents’ barn."

As Logan finished his story, you could see the fear in his eyes, the worry that you might see him differently now. It was the most talking he had ever done.

You took a moment, allowing his words to sink in. "I think the name Logan suits you," you said softly. "I can’t believe everything you've been through."

When you reached across the table, resting your hand over his, he seemed momentarily stunned by the gesture. "So, the people that were trying to kill you, they’re all dead?" you asked softly.

"They’re all dead," he repeated.

"So that means you’re safe?" you pressed, wanting to reassure him that you understood.

"Yeah, I guess it means I’m safe," he confirmed, though the tension in his posture suggested he was bracing for your judgment.

"Good," you said firmly, your eyes locking onto his with unwavering support.

A flicker of surprise crossed Logan’s face, quickly followed by a wave of relief. He let out a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

"You’re not… afraid?" he asked.

You shook your head, squeezing his hand gently. "I’m not afraid," you said, your heart racing as you spoke. "Logan, I understand why you did what you had to do. You were trying to survive, to protect yourself. Sometimes… things aren’t so black and white. That doesn’t change who you are or how I feel about you."

"How d’you feel bout’ me?" he asked timidly.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding as you met his eyes. "I think you know that already," you replied with a small, reassuring smile playing on your lips.

His fingers trembled slightly as they reached for your hand. Logan kissed the palm of your hand and then bowed his head to take your other hand to kiss your knuckles.

In that moment, you realized just how much he meant to you, and how deeply you cared for him.

It was fucking terrifying.

And then like nothing had happened, the two of you spent another hour talking. When it was time for you to go, Logan gently took your hand, guiding you out of the house and toward your car. The cool night air wrapped around you both, but his touch kept you warm.

The silence between you was comfortable.

As you reached your car, Logan paused, turning to face you. You both lingered there, neither one of you wanting the night to end. He opened the car door for you. "Good night, Logan." you said softly.

He nodded. "Good night," he breathed your name, and you felt the intensity of the moment.

Before you could slide into the driver's seat, Logan leaned in, his hand still resting on the car door. He kissed the corner of your mouth, a gentle, lingering kiss that sent shivers down your spine.

As he pulled away, you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light. With one last, tender squeeze of your hand, he stepped back, allowing you to get into the car. He lifted his hand in a wave that you returned shyly. As you drove away, you couldn't help but glance in the rearview mirror, watching as Logan stood there, illuminated by the porch light.

The next day, you received an unexpected email from L'Oréal. You had been interviewing with them for a while and had completed the final round interview about a week ago. Since they knew you were living at home, they had graciously accommodated virtual interviews, so you hadn't felt the need to mention it to anyone just yet.

The email detailed an exciting twist—L'Oréal was not only offering you the job, but they also wanted you to consider taking the role at their headquarters in Paris. The position came with a title bump and almost double the compensation of your old job. You were shocked and overwhelmed by the prospect of this once in a lifetime opportunity.

Reading through the email, your mind raced with the implications of such an incredible offer. L'Oréal was going above and beyond to make the transition as smooth as possible. If you accepted the role, they would handle your relocation and assist you in finding housing in Paris.

Unable to keep the news to yourself, you found your mother in the living room, folding laundry. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow on the room.

"Mom, I have something to tell you,"

She looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What is it, dear?"

"I got a job offer from L'Oréal!" you exclaimed, holding up your phone to show her the email.

Your mother's face lit up with joy. "Oh, honey, that's incredible! I'm so proud of you!"

She took the phone from your hand, her eyes scanning the email quickly. As she read through the details, her expression shifted from joy to surprise.

"Paris?" she asked.

"Yeah… Paris," you replied with apprehension in your voice. Your excitement was tinged with a hint of anxiety. "I'm thrilled, but... I'm also scared. It's such a big change, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for it,"

She set down the laundry and walked over to you, wrapping you in a comforting hug. "You've always been the bravest one in the family," she said softly, pulling back to look into your eyes. "You moved out at 18 and went to university, something nobody else in this family did. Paris will be another incredible opportunity,"

Your father's reaction to your decision to move to Vancouver for your undergraduate studies after you received a full-ride scholarship was one of shock and confusion. While your mother was supportive, he had always imagined you would stay close to home, much like your brother, and help with the family business. The idea of you leaving the province to go to university was something he hadn't anticipated, and it created a point of contention in your relationship for a while. He struggled to understand why you wanted to go so far away.

However, as time passed, he saw how determined and capable you were, and he gradually got over his initial disappointment. When you later moved to Toronto for your MBA and work, it brought him some relief. Toronto was only a two-and-a-half-hour drive away, which meant you were still close enough for regular visits.

"But what if I fail? What if it's too much?" you confessed, your voice trembling slightly.

Your mother smiled. "Honey, you won't fail. You've worked so hard for this. And even if things get tough, you'll figure it out. You always do. But right now, this is your chance to spread your wings,"

"Aren't I too old to be spreading my wings?" you asked, a hint of uncertainty in your voice as you pulled back slightly to look at your mother.

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Oh, honey. Life is full of opportunities at every age, and this one is tailor-made for you."

Her words began to chip away at your doubts. "But what about everyone here? What if I miss something important?"

Your mother cupped your face in her hands, her eyes filled with reassurance. "We'll be here, cheering you on every step of the way. This is your chance to have an adventure. And no matter where you go, this will always be your home,"

You nodded, feeling reassured by her words but also conflicted. Your mother sensed your hesitation and tilted her head slightly, studying you. "Is this about Logan?" she asked gently.

You felt a flush of surprise and shook your head quickly. You hadn’t told your mother about your feelings for Logan, but deep down, you knew she knew. Mothers always seemed to have an uncanny ability to sense these things, and yours was no exception.

She gave you a knowing look, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's okay to be worried about leaving people behind. But you have to think about what's best for you, too,"

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you processed your mother’s words. "It just feels complicated,"

Your mother leaned against the wall, her expression turning thoughtful. "Life is all about change, honey. Sometimes it’s messy and confusing, but it can also lead to beautiful experiences,"

As the evening set in, you decided to head over to Logan's cabin, determined to share the news with him. The drive was filled with a mix of anticipation and anxiety, your mind replaying the conversation with your mother and the emotions it stirred within you.

When you arrived at Logan's cabin, you found him sitting on the porch, a thoughtful look on his face as he watched the sun dip below the horizon. He glanced up as you approached, a beautiful smile spreading across his features.

"Hey," he greeted you softly, standing up to meet you.

"Hey," you replied, your heart pounding as you stepped closer.

Logan could sense something was on your mind. "Everythin’ alright, sweetheart?" he asked.

You opened your mouth to tell him about the job offer, about Paris, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you found yourself lost in his eyes.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you and kissed him gently. Logan seemed momentarily surprised but quickly responded, wrapping his arms around you and deepening the kiss, tongue slipping past your lips. He didn’t hesitate to grab your face, and kiss you like his life depended on it. The world around you faded away, and all that mattered was the feeling of being in his arms.

When you finally pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, your breath mingling in the cool evening air. Logan's hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks. "I've lost count of how many times I've thought bout’ this," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "Holdin’ you, kissin’ you..."

"You haven’t thought about something else?" you teased with a giggle.

Logan barked out laughter that shook you both. "Well, maybe a few other things," he admitted, his voice low and intimate.

You smiled, your fingers threading through his hair as you leaned in to kiss him again. He groaned into the kiss and quickly grabbed your waist, anchoring to you and kissed you back feverishly as he licked into your mouth with urgency. As you kissed Logan, you were enveloped by his scent—a mix of pine and earth, with a hint of something uniquely him. It was comforting and intoxicating all at once. His lips tasted faintly of the whiskey he clearly had been sipping earlier, slightly smoky, mingling with the natural sweetness of his breath.

The combination of his scent and taste heightened your senses, making the moment even more intense. He moved to your neck, and you felt the roughness of his beard against your skin and Logan's hands moved down to your lower back, drawing you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

You pulled back slightly. "I have something important to tell you." you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

Logan's grip tightened slightly; his eyes filled with concern. "What is it?" he asked softly.

"Logan, I got a job offer," you said, finally locking eyes with him. "In Paris."

He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he processed what you were saying. "Paris?" he echoed, the word hanging heavily in the air.

"Yeah,"

And then a broad smile indented his beard. "That's amazin’. I'm so happy for you," his voice filled with genuine excitement.

You felt a pang of disappointment at his reaction, expecting something different. "You're... happy?" you asked, trying to keep your voice normal.

Logan nodded, his smile unwavering. "Of course, I am. You deserve this. I know how long you’ve been lookin’ for a job."

"But... what about this?" you asked, pointing between the two of you. It felt silly to say it out loud, considering you two had only shared your first kiss a couple moments ago.

Logan's expression shifted, and he took your hands in his. "You could tell me you were movin’ to Japan, and it wouldn't matter," he said gently.

"Why wouldn’t it matter?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"Because if you would have me, I'd follow you anywhere," Logan replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt a rush of overwhelming emotion. "Why would you do that?" you asked, your voice trembling as you looked up at Logan, searching his eyes for any hint of doubt.

Logan's gently wiped away a few tears that had escaped down your cheek. "I think y’know that already," he said, his voice steady and filled with sincerity. Logan's expression grew more tender as he continued, "I knew that you bein’ here was always going to be temporary. I always assumed you'd go back to Toronto at some point." He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. "And while Paris isn't Toronto, I could be convinced," he added with a hint of sarcasm, his lips curling into a teasing smile.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the tension easing from your shoulders. You bit your bottom lip, struggling to find the words. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, making it hard to speak. The idea of a man coming with you on this journey felt certifiably insane. You had always prided yourself on being independent, making decisions based on logic and practicality. But as you stood there, looking into Logan's eyes, something shifted inside you. For some reason, you wanted to take that chance with him. Maybe, just maybe, this was the moment to let your heart lead the way.

"What? What aren’t you sayin’ baby? Tell me." His breath was labored, as if he could sense the turmoil within you and was ready to do whatever it took to ease your mind.

You couldn't help but wonder what this incredibly attractive man saw in you. The doubt gnawed at you, making you feel vulnerable and exposed.

"C'mon, use your words." Logan urged gently, his eyes filled with patience.

“I want you," you whispered while looking up at him. You heard him groan and he leaned into you and placed a quick, wet kiss on your lips.

"I want you too," he murmured, his lips brushing softly against yours as he spoke.

"Then make me yours," your voice filled with longing and certainty.

When you said those words, Logan looked absolutely wrecked. He breathed heavily and looked downright criminal looking into your eyes. He looked so tall and sexy, you felt yourself get wet at the sight of his eyes dropping down to look at your lips. You kissed his heart over his flannel and breathed in his scent as his hands started running down your body, skimming the sides of your breasts and resting above your ass.

You grabbed his hands and put them on your ass. You felt him squeeze back.

"Baby, you’re killin’ me," he groaned as he kissed you again and grabbed your ass possessively. He pushed you against the door and lifted your arms up above your head as he stared deeply into your eyes. He trailed hot kisses down your throat, and you melted against the door while Logan took the opportunity to swirl his tongue at your pulse and then started nipping at your neck.

Logan then gently took one of your raised hands, his grip warm and reassuring as he began to lead you into his cabin. He paused briefly in the living room, kissing you softly below your ear and then leaned down to capture your lips with his again.

He groaned into your mouth and with each kiss, he guided you toward the hallway, the space growing more intimate with every step. Logan’s fingers began to explore, deftly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, his touch igniting your skin. You could feel him smirking against your mouth as he maneuvered you closer to his bedroom.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifted, thick with desire. Logan stepped back slightly, just to admire you, a hungry look in his eyes. "You’re so beautiful," he murmured, almost to himself. In one swift motion, he pulled your shirt off over your head, his lips never leaving yours. The cool air brushed against your skin, and you gasped into the kiss as his hands caressed your waist, fingers exploring the soft curves of your body. With a playful nudge, he turned you around, guiding you gently toward the bed, his kisses trailing down your neck and across your shoulders.

You felt his warmth against your back as he undid the clasp of your bra, letting it fall away before his hands were back on your skin, exploring every inch of you. Logan pulled you back against him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Need to see more of you." He pressed a soft kiss along your collarbone, while his hands worked skillfully on the buttons of your jeans, taking his time as he lowered them, leaving kisses along the skin that was revealed, as he helped you step out of your jeans.

"Now, it’s your turn," you huffed at him, and Logan started quickly shedding his own shirt and pants, tossing them on top of your abandoned pile of clothes. He revealed a strong, toned body beneath, and your breath hitched at the sight, the allure of him stirring something deep inside of you.

He was so beautiful, it hurt. Moisture and heat started pooling between your legs.

With a gentle but insistent pull, Logan guided you both onto the bed, where he settled over you, your bodies fitting perfectly together. His fingers crept up your leg, his thumb kneading along your inner thigh. You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply mentally trying to talk down your fears. You were slightly trembling.

"Hey," he said, nuzzling his nose with yours. "Look at me, baby..."

You opened your eyes slowly and saw an expression you hadn’t seen on his face before.

"You nervous?"

"I am," you admitted.

"Nothing has to happen, we can just… lay here together," he whispered, his voice low and soothing.

"It’s not that," you started, "I just...it’s just…you’re so…" It was hard to articulate what you were feeling.

A man that looked like Logan must have been with tons of women who looked like supermodels. And here you were, lying beneath him, feeling a million miles away from that ideal. Suddenly, you became hyper-aware of every flaw of yours. You swallowed hard, an urge to hide creeping up inside you.

Logan must have sensed the tension in your body as you laid beneath him, your heart pounding in your chest. His thumb stilled on your thigh, and he cupped your cheek gently, tilting your face up so you would look at him.

"You’re just really fucking hot, Logan," you said, biting your lip, feeling flustered by your clumsy choice of words, and mentally smacking yourself for the slip up.

Logan chuckled. "You think so?" He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. "I do appreciate the compliment, but I can assure you that you're way out of my league,"

You shook your head, unable to suppress a smile. "You're ridiculous. Look at you,"

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours as he growled, "And look at you. You're sexy as hell,"

Feeling the heat flood your cheeks, you instinctively raised your hands to cover your face, a mixture of embarrassment and disbelief washing over you. The soft fabric of Logan’s sheets brushed against your skin, and you could hardly believe what you were hearing. Nobody had ever called you sexy before.

Logan's laughter was like a soothing balm, cutting through your anxiety, and you could sense his amusement at your reaction. He gently pulled your hands away, his touch feather-light, and when you finally peeked between your fingers, you were met with his hazel gaze, filled with tenderness. You could really see the green in his eyes tonight.

"Don’t hide from me," he murmured, his voice soft and inviting. "I wanna see you," he said swooping his head down to attack your neck, sucking softly at your skin there, making you whimper.

As you lowered your hands, he smiled, an expression that made your insides flutter.

"Seriously, you’re breathtakin’ baby," he continued, bursting you out of your little bubble of anxiety.

You swallowed hard, still feeling a twinge of vulnerability, but his sincerity made it easier to breathe.

"Now, how about we get back to what we were doin’ before?" he teased, his lips curling upward into a cocky grin. You couldn't help but laugh, your previous embarrassment easing into excitement.

"I think I can manage that," you replied, a newfound confidence blooming in your chest.

Logan pulled back to stand on his knees and slid his boxers down. Your eyes got wide, and you gasped at the size as you saw his cock spring up, thick and leaking with arousal. It was big. It was really big. You honestly wondered how he was going to fit inside of you.

You noticed that Logan found himself unable to look away as he noticed the damp stain growing in your underwear. "Your panties are all wet. I think I should take these off you." he grinned wickedly as he slid them down your legs and threw them off the bed.

His eyes skated up and down your naked body, studying every inch of you. "Look at this pretty fuckin’ pussy," He ran his fingers between your legs, feeling the wetness coming out of your leaking cunt, teasing you, but never entering inside of you.

"Jesus, this all for me?" he grunted, "you’re so fuckin’ wet," Logan admired with his lips parted.

You gasped his name and tried to muffle back the noises you were making.

"Don't hold back. Let me fuckin’ hear you. I wanna hear all your pretty sounds." he urged, his own breaths heavy and uneven.

You cried out when he started to dip just the tip of his finger inside of you, teasing the fuck out of you. He then drew small circles around your clit with his thumb, his eyes never leaving yours as he stared at your mouth. He finally dipped his finger inside of you.

You whimpered, arching your back as pleasure coursed through your body. "Logan," you breathed, unsure of what you could even say or ask for in this moment.

"God, baby," he moaned lightly into your collarbone, "you don't know how bad I want to fuck you right now." His lips touched your jaw, and your skin was burning from his touch.

"Fuck," you whined, goosebumps prickling your skin, his touch felt like it was everywhere.

He pushed harder against your sensitive spot, almost harshly with tight circles and he added another finger to curl up inside you. Obscene wet sounds of his fingers going in and out of you continued to fill the room. You cried out loudly, jerking his face towards you to meet his lips and plunged your tongue deep into his mouth to avoid screaming. His tongue nudged against yours as you grabbed fistfuls of his hair and breathed him in.

You couldn’t wait any longer. It had been months of waiting at this point.

"Please, I’m ready." you pleaded desperately against his mouth. "Please… Now." you begged and pinched your eyebrows together.

Logan let out a half-chuckle and a half-moan, his head dipping to your breast, taking the peak lightly in his mouth. His tongue caressed it softly, and as he released it, a strangled moan escaped your lips.

"Now, normally I'd prefer to take my time," he sighed, smiling mischievously, "But since, you’re beggin’ for it, I’ll allow us to skip a few steps, just this once."

You whined, your words barley coherent when he pulled his fingers out of you that were glistening with your slick. You watched him lift his hand to his lips, slipping his fingers into his mouth with his wet tongue, and he hummed and grunted like it was the best damn thing he had ever tasted in his life.

"Don’t keep me waiting," you teased, your voice sultry and laced with impatience as you squirmed beneath him.

With a low growl, Logan positioned himself between your legs, leaning close to kiss the tip of your nose. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, and your body responded eagerly, a rush of anticipation flooding through you. He searched your eyes for reassurance — a silent confirmation.

You managed a breathless nod and watched as he slowly disappeared inside you. You gasped at the overwhelming sensation—the stretch, the heat, and the delicious friction as your slick soaked his cock. Logan’s eyes darkened further, the raw need in his expression making you feel desired.

"You feel so good," he groaned as he pushed further, burying himself fully inside you. He paused for a moment to let you adjust, both of you breathing heavily. "Can’t believe I waited this fuckin’ long to have you,"

"Logan, oh God," you gasped, feeling every inch of him, your nails scraping over the taut muscles of his back, pulling him closer as if you would melt into him entirely.

"I know, baby," he grunted, his voice a low growl. "Look at you, so perfect and just for me," he murmured, cock throbbing inside of you.

"I’m yours," you gasped, the words slipping from your lips. "I’m yours, Logan."

His eyes darkened with that confession, and he thrust into you, almost possessively, as if he were staking his claim. His hips pinned you down to the bed with slow, deep strokes, and Logan leaned down to capture your lips with his. The kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, an exchange of heat and hunger. You could taste the desire in him, sweet and intoxicating. You knew this wasn’t just sex. It was more than that.

You were lost in this moment.

You were lost in Logan.

You were lost together.

You didn’t know this tonight, but one day you would sit down with your son and daughter, nestled in the dream house Logan would build for you in Halliburton once you both returned from Paris. There, you would share the beautiful story of the first time their father told you he loved you—a moment that would take place on the first day you both moved to Paris. It would happen at the Seine River, under the soft glow of the city lights reflecting on the water. Logan, with a heartfelt and tender look in his eyes, would tell you that he loved you.

"What a coincidence," you would tell him, linking your hands behind his neck. "Because I love you too, but I think you know that already,"

Logan moving for you? Logan telling you he loves you in Paris? Logan building you a house? I’m deceased. This story was really random, and low-key some hallmark type shit. But your girl was in her feelings, and I needed to bring some fluff into my life. I hope this resonates with people. I loved writing it <3.

^I couldn't find a picture of him with his beard. So, let's pretend Logan gets a haircut in Paris and they take his beard away and you almost cry - however you let him know that he still obviously looks very handsome. He grows it back for you (and for him), because he knows how much you like feeling the burn of his beard between your thighs.

#to read #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x f!reader #wolverine x reader #yxtkiwixt

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