moonxknightx

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : IN SICKNESS AND IN CARE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff :))

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Literally none!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: When you catch a cold and try to hide it to avoid being a burden, Logan quickly notices you're not your usual sunny self. Despite your protests, he steps in to take care of you, showing a softer side as he insists you don't have to carry everything alone. In Logan's gruff but tender way, you learn that even the strongest need someone to lean on sometimes.

Based on this request.

THE COOL AIR THAT DRIFTED THROUGH THE MANSION WAS A PLEASANT REPRIEVE FROM THE USUAL HEAT OF THE DAY, but for some reason, it didn’t quite feel the same. You rubbed your arms, a shiver crawling down your spine. Your normally sunny disposition felt dimmed, and no amount of fake smiles seemed to mask how off you were feeling. Logan had already given you a curious glance at breakfast when you didn’t chatter on about your plans for the day.

He wasn’t the kind of man to prod too much. That wasn’t his style. But as the day dragged on, and you avoided him during training, kept quiet during the team meeting, and all but disappeared into your room, it was becoming impossible for him to ignore.

The door to your shared room creaked open, and Logan stood in the doorway, watching as you sat curled up under the blanket on the bed, tissues scattered around you. Your cheeks were flushed, and your usually bright eyes were dim and watery.

“Alright,” Logan grumbled, his voice rough but gentle, “what’s going on with you?”

You sniffled, rubbing your nose with a tissue before looking up at him. “Nothing,” you mumbled, your voice sounding congested. “I’m fine, Logan.”

Logan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. His boots thudded against the wooden floor as he moved closer. “You don’t look fine. You’ve been avoiding me all day, and now you’re holed up here lookin’ like death warmed over. What’s goin’ on?”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you let your head fall back against the pillow. You weren’t acting like yourself, and you knew it. Normally, you were the ray of sunshine in Logan’s life, always bright and cheerful, bringing a light into his otherwise gruff and hardened world. But today… today, you just couldn’t muster the energy. The weight of the cold was pressing down on you, and it felt as if every part of you was being drained of its usual warmth.

“I caught a cold,” you admitted reluctantly, your voice quieter than usual.

Logan narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the bedpost. “A cold?” he repeated, as if the idea was foreign to him. “Why the hell are you still workin’ if you’ve got a cold?”

You shifted uncomfortably, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “A burden? You think takin’ care of yourself makes you a burden?”

“I just didn’t want to make anyone worry,” you mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed now. “I know everyone’s busy, and you’ve got your own stuff to handle. I didn’t want to be a distraction.”

Logan let out a low growl, his frustration evident, but not at you. He pushed himself off the bedpost and came to sit beside you on the bed, his hand brushing some hair out of your face. The touch was surprisingly tender for someone with such a rough exterior.

“Darlin’,” he began, his tone softer now, “you ain’t a burden. Not to me. Not to anyone.” His calloused fingers trailed down your cheek, feeling the warmth of your fever. “You’re sick, and that’s all there is to it. You shouldn’t be pushin’ yourself like this.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could say anything, Logan’s expression shifted, a mixture of concern and protectiveness flashing across his face.

“Don’t even try to tell me you’re fine,” he said, cutting you off before you could protest. “I know you. I’ve been around long enough to know when somethin’ ain’t right, and you ain’t yourself today. You’re burnin’ up, Sunshine.”

A small, tired smile tugged at the corners of your lips when he used his nickname for you. “I’ll be okay, Logan, really. I just need to sleep it off.”

He wasn’t buying it. Not one bit.

“You’re not gettin’ out of this one that easy,” he muttered, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. You could hear him rummaging around, muttering to himself about where the hell Hank kept the damn thermometer.

You groaned softly, sinking deeper into the covers. “Logan, I can take care of myself…”

“Yeah? Well, I’m takin’ care of you now, so deal with it,” he called back from the bathroom. Moments later, he returned with a damp washcloth and a thermometer. He pressed the washcloth to your forehead, the cool sensation soothing your feverish skin.

You squirmed slightly, feeling a little uncomfortable with all the attention. Logan wasn’t exactly the nurturing type—at least, not outwardly—but the way he was hovering over you made your heart swell. You knew he cared, but he rarely showed it in such an obvious way.

“Stop fussin’,” he grumbled as he stuck the thermometer under your tongue. “I ain’t lettin’ you fight this thing alone, so just stay put.”

The thermometer beeped, and Logan took a look at the reading, his jaw tightening. “You’re runnin’ a fever. You should’ve said somethin’ sooner.”

You shrugged weakly, the energy to argue completely gone. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Logan sighed deeply, his gruff exterior softening for just a moment as he sat back down beside you. “You worry me more when you don’t say anythin’,” he admitted quietly.

His words caught you off guard, and you looked up at him through bleary eyes. Logan wasn’t one for emotional speeches, but there was a raw honesty in his voice that made your chest tighten.

“I can take care of myself, but I ain’t used to people takin’ care of me,” Logan continued, his voice low. “But you… you’re different. You’re the light in all this darkness, and if somethin’ happens to you… I don’t know what I’d do.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the strength beneath his skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Logan,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

He let out a soft, almost inaudible grunt before pulling the blanket up over you. “Damn right you’re not,” he muttered, his tone gruff but tender. “Now, rest. I’ll get you some soup or somethin’.”

As he stood up to leave, you grabbed his hand, stopping him in his tracks. “Logan… thank you.”

He gave you a small nod, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “You’re welcome, Sunshine. Just remember, you ain’t gotta do everything on your own. You’ve got me now.”

With that, Logan left the room, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of the blankets. You hadn’t realized how heavy the weight of your exhaustion was until now, but with Logan by your side, you finally allowed yourself to rest, knowing he’d be there to take care of you.

And, for once, you were okay with that.

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @veru-boom @wolviesgirl @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany @allmyn1ghts @chronicallybubbly @lex-the-flex @evasmlp @whxtewolf @froggieeez

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!🫶

[moonxknightx]

Baby, are u okay?

HI BABY🫶🏽

YES I’M OKAY!

I’m so sorry for being so inactive these past couple of weeks…

The good thing is that I’m finally back home and done with my internship, so i’ll try my best to put some content out soon!

Maybe not as much as i used to but definitely some!

I will probably focus on my two Hugh Jackman series first

❤️

[moonxknightx]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ JOHN WICK MASTERLIST ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

★ = Smut

❤︎︎ = Fluff

✽ = Angst

ೃ࿐JOHN WICK

ONESHOTS:

Broken Silence | ❤︎︎ | You are kidnapped by a mafia group seeking revenge on John Wick, enduring weeks of brutal torture for refusing to reveal his whereabouts. When John finally finds and rescues you, you're barely recognizable, shattered by the ordeal. He takes you home, gently caring for your wounds and helping you recover. ─── 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

If you have any requests, feel free to drop them in my inbox or just message me ❤️

[moonxknightx]

EVERYONE GO READ THIS!!

It’s truly amazing

The Great Outdoors

Summary: Logan takes you on a camping trip, but his survival skills are hilariously outdated. Between using a rock instead of a proper camping tool and attempting to start a fire with his claws (which ends up in a mini bonfire), you can’t stop laughing. Eventually, you both end up cuddled in the tent, sharing ghost stories that lead to goofy scares and unexpected confessions of affection.

Pairing             : Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Female!Human-reader

Genre              : Fluff

The sun was already dipping low behind the trees when Logan parked the truck. He got out like he was about to conquer the wild, while you stood there, looking at the woods and trying not to laugh at the seriousness on his face. Logan wasn’t the camping type—or at least, not the “modern” kind. He was more like the “rough it with nothing but your fists and claws” type.

This was going to be interesting.

“So, what’s the plan, Bear Grylls?” you teased, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Logan grunted, pulling out a rolled-up tent from the back of the truck. “Survive. That’s the plan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow, so detailed. I feel so prepared.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve done this a hundred times. Just follow my lead, and we’ll be fine.”

Oh, boy.

You made your way into the clearing Logan had apparently scoped out beforehand. It wasn’t bad, actually—nice little spot near a river, surrounded by trees that rustled softly in the evening breeze. As soon as you set your stuff down, Logan got to work... sort of.

He started with the tent. You watched him as he unfolded it, frowning like the damn thing had personally offended him. “These damn things get more complicated every year,” he muttered, trying to shove a pole into one of the sleeves.

“Need some help?” you asked, biting your lip to keep from laughing as he wrestled with it.

“Nah, I got it,” he grumbled, jamming the pole so hard it almost snapped.

Five minutes later, the tent was half-collapsed, one corner flapping in the wind, and Logan was cursing under his breath.

“I think it’s supposed to stand up, Logan.”

He shot you a look, then glanced back at the tent. “It’s fine. I’m just, uh... testing its durability.”

You let out a snort, shaking your head. “Right. Maybe you should just let me handle that.”

“I’m a grown-ass man,” he muttered, glaring at the tent like it had insulted his mother.

“Yeah, and you’re losing a fight to a piece of nylon.”

After another moment of watching him struggle, you stepped in and started putting the thing together while Logan, not exactly one for sitting still, decided to gather firewood. He disappeared into the woods with nothing but his claws, because why bring a hatchet when you’re Logan?

By the time he came back, arms full of sticks and logs, the tent was up and looking perfect. You leaned against it, smirking as he dropped the wood into a pile.

“See?” you said, gesturing to the tent. “That’s how it’s done.”

Logan grunted, clearly not impressed. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see you start a fire.”

You crossed your arms. “Watch and learn, old man.”

He grinned, that dangerous little glint in his eye. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

Logan, being Logan, didn’t just gather some twigs and light them with a match like a normal person. No, that would’ve been too easy. Instead, he pulled out his claws and crouched next to the fire pit, sparks flying as he struck them against a rock.

“Logan, that’s not how—”

Whoosh!

The pile of wood lit up like someone had dumped gasoline on it. Flames shot up higher than you thought possible, and you stumbled back, laughing your ass off while Logan jumped up, cursing.

“Goddammit!” He swiped his claws through the air, trying to beat the flames down. “I meant to do that.”

“Oh, sure,” you choked out between laughs, wiping at your eyes. “That’s the perfect height for roasting marshmallows, right?”

Logan glared at the mini-bonfire for a second, then at you. “Next time, you can light the damn thing.”

You couldn’t stop laughing, the sound of it bouncing around the trees. Logan finally cracked a smile, though he tried to hide it behind a gruff mutter.

After some careful maneuvering (read: Logan finally letting you fix the fire), you both settled down for the evening. The fire was low, crackling softly, the night air cool around you. Stars were starting to peek through the darkening sky, and the only sounds were the soft hum of the forest and Logan chewing on beef jerky.

You leaned back against a log, holding your hands out to the fire. “So, what now? Gonna show me your impressive ghost story collection?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, gnawing on his jerky like a wild animal. “Ghost stories? What are we, twelve?”

“Come on,” you teased. “Everyone knows camping isn’t complete without ghost stories. It’s like... the law.”

He scoffed but leaned back, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “Alright. You want a ghost story? I’ll give you one.”

“Oh, this oughta be good.”

Logan cleared his throat dramatically. “So... once upon a time... there was this girl. Thought she was real tough. Real smart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is this about me?”

“Shhh, I’m tellin’ a story here,” Logan said, smirking. “Anyway, she thought she could survive out in the wild with just a little ol’ tent and her wit. But one night, she heard a rustling in the trees... something... watching her.”

You leaned in, playing along, even though you knew exactly where this was going. “Oh, yeah? What was it?”

Logan’s eyes widened theatrically. “A bear! Big, ugly thing. Twice her size. It came into her camp, sniffin’ around, and you know what she did?”

You shook your head, grinning. “What?”

“Nothing. She just froze. The bear ate all her snacks, tore up her tent, and left her sittin’ there in her own piss.”

You burst out laughing. “Wow, Logan. Truly terrifying. 10/10. I’m gonna have nightmares for weeks.”

Logan grinned, leaning closer. “I got more. You’ll be beggin’ for mercy by the end of the night.”

You pushed his shoulder lightly. “You’re such an ass.”

As the night deepened and the fire began to die down, you both retreated into the tent. It was surprisingly cozy inside, the faint warmth of the fire lingering outside while you snuggled into your sleeping bag. Logan stretched out beside you, his body taking up way too much space, but you didn’t mind.

“Comfy?” you asked, glancing at him as he wiggled around.

“Like a fuckin’ sardine,” he muttered, trying to adjust in the small space. “Who the hell makes these tents so damn small?”

“They’re meant for normal-sized people, not... whatever the hell you are,” you said with a smirk.

Logan snorted. “Mutant privilege. I need bigger accommodations.”

You both lay there for a few minutes, the quiet settling in around you. Logan’s breathing was steady, his body warm next to yours, and despite his earlier grumblings, you could tell he was content. This whole camping thing wasn’t so bad, after all.

“Alright,” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “I’ve got a ghost story.”

Logan raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, so you went on.

“There’s this guy, right? Big, tough, hairy—like, really hairy. The kinda guy you wouldn’t wanna meet in a dark alley.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but you kept going.

“And one night, he decides to go camping with this totally amazing girl—smart, funny, great taste in camping snacks—”

“Wow, I wonder who this is about,” Logan deadpanned.

“Shhh,” you said, stifling a laugh. “But the thing is... the guy? He’s got a secret. See, he acts all tough, like nothing scares him, but deep down? He’s terrified of one thing.”

Logan looked over at you, eyes narrowing. “What?”

You grinned, leaning in close. “Commitment.”

Logan blinked, then let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you said, smiling. “But you know I’m right.”

He didn’t deny it, just stretched out a hand to pull you closer, his arm wrapping around you with an ease that made your heart flutter a little too fast.

“I’m scared of plenty of things,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “Just not the same kinda things as you.”

“Like what?” you asked, curious now.

Logan looked at you, his eyes serious for once. “Losing people. People I care about. That’s what scares me.”

The confession was quiet, unexpected, and it hit harder than you’d thought. You swallowed, unsure of what to say, but Logan just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, pulling you in tighter.

“Guess that makes you a real badass,” you whispered after a moment, your voice barely breaking the stillness of the tent.

“Damn right,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now shut up and go to sleep before I start tellin’ real scary stories.”

You smiled against his chest, warmth spreading through you as the sound of the river and the soft crackling of the dying fire lulled you to sleep. And maybe, just maybe, you’d both survived the great outdoors after all.

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : BROKEN SILENCE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ John Wick x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Angst!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Kidnapping, mentions of torture, trauma, ptsd, emotional and physical abuse, angst

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You are kidnapped by a mafia group seeking revenge on John Wick, enduring weeks of brutal torture for refusing to reveal his whereabouts. When John finally finds and rescues you, you're barely recognizable, shattered by the ordeal. He takes you home, gently caring for your wounds and helping you recover.

THE WAREHOUSE SMELLED OF BLOOD AND FEAR.

John Wick’s steps were eerily silent as he moved through the decimated hideout. The bodies littered around him were evidence of the storm he’d unleashed, his rage manifesting in every gunshot, every blade that tore through flesh. He had come for you, and nothing would stop him. The moment he heard you’d been taken—kidnapped, tortured—his world had become singular, focused on one thing: getting you back.

He kicked open the last door, heart hammering in his chest. The room was dark, save for a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. And there you were—tied to a chair in the center, bruised, bloody, barely recognizable. Your head hung low, limp like a ragdoll. The sight of you ripped something primal inside of him. He moved quickly, holstering his weapon, eyes scanning you for signs of life.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, dull and lifeless, yet still aware. You tried to lift your head, but the weight of your injuries and weeks of torment held you down.

His hands trembled as he untied the ropes binding you to the chair. Your wrists were raw, chafed from days of resistance. You hadn’t broken. Even when they starved you, drowned you, beat you until you could barely breathe, you hadn’t given them anything. Not a single word about John. Not a hint. But the cost of that defiance had hollowed you out, leaving behind a shell of the person you used to be.

When the ropes finally fell away, you collapsed into his arms, too weak to stand. He caught you easily, pulling you into his chest.

“John…” you croaked, your voice nothing more than a rasp, a faint echo of what it once was.

“I’m here," he murmured, holding you tightly. His voice broke, the cracks in his facade showing. “I’ve got you.”

You didn’t respond, and that killed him more than anything. You, who used to be so full of life, who laughed with such ease in his arms—now you were silent, staring past him with a blank, haunted look. He could feel the tremors running through your body as he carried you out of that hellhole, each step a reminder of the weeks of suffering you’d endured without him. Each step weighed down by the guilt that crushed him.

When he brought you home, it didn’t feel like home anymore. The warmth had bled out of the walls, leaving only a cold, empty space that mirrored the emptiness in your eyes.

John helped you into the bathroom, his touch gentle, almost afraid of breaking you further. Your skin was marred with bruises, cuts, the evidence of everything they’d done to you. He drew a bath, the steam rising in the small space as he eased you into the water. You winced, your body so broken that even the warm water felt like a new kind of torment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, though he wasn’t sure if you even heard him. His fingers were careful as they washed away the grime and blood, every touch a silent apology. He washed your hair, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each gesture might undo the horrors of what had happened.

But you were silent still, your eyes closed, face pale and gaunt. You didn’t cry. You hadn’t cried once since he found you. He didn’t know whether that was a relief or a worse kind of nightmare.

After the bath, he dressed you in one of his shirts, the fabric hanging loosely on your fragile frame. He led you to bed, helping you under the covers, though you lay there like a ghost, staring at the ceiling.

~

Days passed, and you began to speak again. Slowly, haltingly, like you were relearning how. At first, it was a few words, barely audible.

"Thank you," you'd whisper when he brought you food, though you never ate more than a few bites.

"Okay," you’d mutter when he asked if you needed anything, though your voice always trailed off, as if you were unsure of what you were saying.

He watched you, never leaving your side for long. He was patient, though the fire inside him still raged—a quiet, controlled fury, always on the verge of exploding.

One night, as he sat beside you, you turned to him. Your face was drawn, eyes glassy, but there was something behind them now. Something fragile, yet real.

“John…” Your voice wavered, and for the first time, he saw the tears welling up, the flood you’d been holding back. His heart clenched in his chest as you reached for him, fingers trembling.

He was by your side in an instant, taking your hand, feeling the chill of your skin.

“They… they didn’t stop.” Your voice cracked, and then the dam broke. “They kept… they kept hitting me. They tried to drown me. They wanted me to tell them where you were… but I didn’t, John. I didn’t tell them.”

Your words came out in gasps, sobs choking you as the weight of everything you’d endured came crashing down.

“I thought… I thought I was going to die. Every day, I thought this would be it. And I kept thinking about you… about how I couldn’t give them anything, not after everything we’ve been through.” Your voice wavered, breaking. “But it hurt so much, John. It hurt so much.”

He held you then, pulling you into his arms, his heart shattering with every word you spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, over and over again. “I’m so sorry.”

You buried your face in his chest, sobs wracking your body, and for the first time since he found you, you cried. You let it all out—the fear, the pain, the hopelessness you’d carried for so long. And John held you through it all, his hands trembling as he rocked you gently, whispering the same promises again and again.

“I’m done,” he said quietly, his voice low but firm. “I’m done with this life. I’m not losing you again. I’m not doing this anymore.”

You didn’t respond, but he felt the way your grip tightened on him, the way your body finally relaxed in his arms. He made the vow then, to you, to himself. The world could burn, but you were all that mattered now.

John Wick, the assassin, was no more.

———

I watched the first two John Wick movies today and I’m lowkey crushing on John so i decided to write something small…i might make more oneshots about him🤷🏽‍♀️

[moonxknightx]

were u gonna get to those wade wilson requests by any chance 👉🏻👈🏻… (totally understand if Logan is ur priority, and Wade is pretty hard to write for!)

HI LOVE❤️

Yes I’m definitely planning on writing all the Wade requests, most of them are already half way done, i’m just having a hard time finishing them😭 Wade really is hard to write for!

But I’m going to try my best to finish some of them this week!!

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : AFTER THE NIGHTMARE : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Worst!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff because our man deserves it

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: Logan wakes from a nightmare about losing the X-Men and goes to the balcony to clear his head. You find him, comfort him, and bring him back to bed, holding him close and reassuring him that he's safe with you.

LOGAN WOKE WITH A JUMP, his chest heaving, sweat clinging to his skin like a second layer. The familiar shadows of your apartment stretched across the room, but he was far from calm. His breath was shallow, his heart pounding harder than it should have been. His mind was still trapped in the nightmare, reliving the loss of the X-Men, Xavier’s death, and the ruins of the life he once knew.

Next to him, you slept peacefully, completely unaware of the storm inside him. He stared at you for a moment, your face illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights outside, the sight of you offering him a brief tether to the present. But the images in his head—the blood, the destruction—tightened his chest. He didn’t want to disturb you. You deserved peace, not his haunted past creeping into the night.

Carefully, Logan slipped out of bed, making sure not to wake you. He pulled on a pair of old sweatpants and padded silently into the living room, his feet sinking into the worn rug you insisted on keeping. His hands instinctively went to the small box on the coffee table, fishing out a cigar. As he moved through the apartment, everything felt too quiet. The echo of his past still followed him, no matter how much time had passed.

The balcony door slid open without a sound, and Logan stepped into the cool night air. The city stretched below, bustling and alive, so different from the stillness inside him. He lit the cigar, the end glowing faintly in the dark, and took a long drag. The burn in his lungs felt grounding, a temporary distraction from the ache in his chest.

It had been months since the ordeal with Wade, the chaos of Deadpool’s wild world colliding with his own. You had met Logan through Wade, your best friend and constant source of trouble. Logan had tried to resist getting close to anyone after everything he’d lost, but you… you had snuck up on him. Your warmth, your patience—it was something he hadn’t expected. And now here he was, standing on your balcony, trying not to let his past bleed into the present.

Inside, the bed felt suddenly too empty, and you stirred, reaching for the space where Logan had been. Your hand met cool sheets, and your brow furrowed as you blinked awake, the soft glow of the city filtering into the room. You sat up, rubbing your eyes, and glanced around. The apartment was still, but you could feel that Logan was no longer beside you. A small frown tugged at your lips as you slid out of bed, tugging one of his oversized flannels over your frame.

Padding barefoot into the living room, you didn’t have to search long. The faint scent of cigar smoke lingered in the air, and the glass door to the balcony was slightly ajar. You stepped out quietly, your heart tightening a little at the sight of him standing there, his broad shoulders tense, his gaze lost in the distant skyline.

Without saying a word, you moved behind him and wrapped your arms gently around his waist. Logan stiffened at the contact for just a second before he relaxed, his hand moving to rest over yours on his stomach.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice rough around the edges, but tender.

"Hey," you whispered back, resting your cheek against his warm back. "Couldn't sleep?"

He let out a quiet sigh, his free hand lifting to rub at his face. "Yeah, something like that."

You could tell from the tension in his body and the way he was avoiding your gaze that it was more than just trouble sleeping. Slowly, you moved around to face him, resting your hands gently on his chest. His eyes, haunted and far away, finally met yours. "What’s going on, Logan? Talk to me."

He took a deep breath, looking past you for a moment before meeting your gaze again. "Had a nightmare. About… everything. The X-Men, Xavier… what I lost in my world." His voice was quiet, strained. "I try to move past it, but sometimes it just… it all comes back."

Your heart ached for him. You knew Logan carried the weight of his past like an invisible burden, even on the best of days. His walls were thick, built to withstand pain and loss, but there were moments like these, where the cracks showed, where the vulnerability seeped through.

You slid your hands up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing gently over the scruff on his jaw. "I’m so sorry, Logan," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with understanding. "I can’t imagine what it was like to lose them. But you’re here now. You’re not alone anymore."

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch. He hadn’t wanted to admit how much it had all been weighing on him, but with you, he didn’t feel the need to hide. "I don’t deserve this," he murmured, his voice low, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to you. "You. This… peace."

You shook your head gently. "You deserve every bit of it, Logan. We all have things we’re running from. You’ve carried enough alone. You don’t have to anymore."

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just took in the comfort of your presence, the way you held him without asking for anything in return. He let out a deep breath, one that seemed to ease a little of the weight off his shoulders.

"You’re too good to me, you know that?" he muttered, though there was a soft hint of gratitude in his tone.

You smiled, rising onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Someone has to keep you in line."

Logan chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you fully. The cigar, now forgotten, sat smoldering in the ashtray. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the familiar scent of you—a small, comforting anchor in the storm of his thoughts.

After a few moments, you gently tugged his hand. “Come back to bed, Logan. You need rest.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I… I don’t know if I can. Not after—”

You cut him off with a soft smile, placing your hand on his cheek. “You don’t have to face it alone.” Your fingers threaded through his as you led him back inside.

Once you were in the bedroom, you slipped under the covers and held them open for him. Logan stood there for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and the bed as if he was afraid of what would happen once he closed his eyes again. But with a reluctant sigh, he crawled in beside you, resting on his side, his back to you.

Sensing his unease, you moved closer, sliding your arms around his waist and pulling him into you. Logan stiffened for a moment, but then melted into your embrace, his large body relaxing as he let you spoon him. Your lips pressed gently to his shoulder, leaving soft kisses against his skin.

“It’s okay,” you murmured softly, your voice like a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. “I’m here. You’re safe. It’s okay to fall asleep.”

Logan let out a shaky breath, his hands covering yours where they rested against his chest. “I don’t know how you do it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Make it all feel… bearable.”

You smiled softly against his shoulder, continuing to place gentle kisses along his skin. “I’m not going anywhere. Just rest, Logan. I’ve got you.”

It took a while, but eventually, Logan’s breathing began to slow, the tension in his muscles easing bit by bit. With you wrapped around him, your steady breaths a comforting rhythm in the quiet room, he finally allowed his eyes to close.

And for the first time in a long time, Logan fell into a peaceful sleep, no longer haunted by the ghosts of his past.

———

🏷️: @twinky-wink @fidgetingbee @astarions-girl-dinner @layladestiny8 @birdy-bat-writes @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @wolviesgirl @veru-boom @lanabobana @shybluebirdninja @corvusmorte @seamlessepiphany @allmyn1ghts @chronicallybubbly @lex-the-flex @evasmlp

I FINALLY POSTED NEW LOGAN CONTENT!!

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know❤️

[moonxknightx]

Dont get it wrong i really love you do well on your intership and new chapter of life BUT IM MISSING U LIKE CRAZY😭

I AM SORRY BABE😭

After tomorrow i’m off for 3 days so i will definitely write and publish some content!!

As for now, i just dropped a new Hugh Oneshot, so check it out❤️

[moonxknightx]

I LOVE YOU 🫵🏻 AND YOUR AMAZING WORKS 🫵🏻❤️

I LOVE YOU 🫵🏽 TOO ❤️❤️

AND THANK YOU SO MUCH

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : OFF SCRIPT : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None! Mentions of (Y/N)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You star with Hugh Jackman in a steamy movie, but the lines between acting and reality blur when Hugh starts developing real feelings for you. After confessing his jealousy and attraction, you realize you feel the same, and the two of you go off-script to explore a genuine connection.

Based on this request.

THE MOVIE SET WAS BUZZING WITH EXCITEMENT, lights flickering, cameras rolling, and the tension in the air palpable. You’d landed the lead role in an upcoming erotic thriller—a bold career move that had sparked more than a few raised eyebrows. However, what really set tongues wagging was your co-star.

Hugh Jackman. The Wolverine. The greatest showman himself.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. At 55, Hugh was a global icon, still radiating that rugged charm and magnetic energy that made audiences swoon. You, on the other hand, were in your early thirties, on the rise, and wondering how on earth you’d ended up in a movie where you’d have to—well, you know—get intimate with Hugh Jackman.

The director had wasted no time throwing the two of you into the deep end. The first few scenes together? Explosive chemistry. And Hugh, ever the professional, made it feel so natural, even though you both spent half the day either semi-naked or in bed, pretending to tear each other’s clothes off.

~🎬~

"Alright, everyone, places!" The director clapped his hands, signaling the next shot.

You glanced at Hugh, who was casually leaning against a prop desk, shirtless. He caught your gaze, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes. Something that wasn’t just acting. You brushed it off as nerves.

"Let’s do this," you muttered to yourself, adjusting the strap of your robe, which you’d soon be dropping.

Hugh approached you, flashing that million-dollar grin. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be," you replied with a nervous laugh. "I’m still not sure how you can do this with such confidence."

He chuckled, voice low and warm. "Years of experience, love. Just remember, it’s all choreography. We’re professionals."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Right. Professionals. Naked professionals."

Before he could respond, the director’s voice boomed again, "And…action!"

The scene called for you to push Hugh up against the wall, all passion and heat, and for the next few minutes, that’s exactly what you did. Your bodies pressed together, lips inches apart, the camera capturing every bead of sweat, every intense breath. But between takes, there was something more—an almost imperceptible softness in Hugh’s touch, a lingering glance when the director called cut.

~🎬~

Later that day, you found yourself in another steamy scene—but this time, not with Hugh.

Jake, one of the other actors, had been cast as a secondary love interest, and while your chemistry with him was nowhere near as electric, it was enough to sell the scene. You were mid-take, kissing Jake on a couch when you noticed Hugh watching from behind the camera. He was supposed to be off set for this, but there he was, arms crossed, a small frown on his face.

"Cut!" The director called. "That was good, but I need more passion, (Y/N). Really go for it."

You tried again, but the second your lips met Jake’s, you caught Hugh’s expression in your peripheral vision. Was he…jealous?

The next take was even worse. Your brain refused to cooperate, replaying the image of Hugh standing there, looking like he was about to burst through the set like Wolverine in a rage.

Finally, the director let you both off the hook and called for a break. As you got up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you felt a presence behind you. Hugh.

"Bit of a rough take, huh?" he said, his voice low, but his eyes held a teasing glint.

You spun to face him. "Were you watching?"

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged, trying to look casual. "It’s hard not to when…you know…" He gestured vaguely at Jake. "You’re out there, doing that."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Doing what, Hugh?"

His lips twitched into a smirk, but he quickly suppressed it. "Nothing. Just… I mean, does it have to be so steamy?"

"Uh, yeah, it’s in the script," you teased back, crossing your arms. "Are you getting jealous?"

"What?" He let out a laugh that sounded way too forced. "Me? Jealous? Ridiculous!"

You stepped closer, eyes glinting with mischief. "Sounds like jealousy to me, Jackman."

"Okay, fine, maybe a little," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, that charming grin back on his face. "I mean, I get it. I know it’s acting, but…you know, it’s weird seeing you kiss someone else. Especially when we’ve, uh, done…everything but that."

You felt a blush creep up your neck, remembering your more intimate scenes with him. "Hugh, you do realize that we’re supposed to be acting professionals, right?"

He sighed, his smile turning softer. "Yeah, but sometimes, things get a little blurry. At least for me."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Wait… are you saying you…?"

"I’m saying I might’ve caught feelings for you somewhere between take seven of that bedroom scene and the moment you pushed me up against that wall," he confessed, his voice serious now.

Your heart did a weird flip in your chest. This was not in the script. "Hugh, I—"

"Look, I know there’s an age gap, and this is all very unprofessional, but…" He ran his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. "I don’t know, (Y/N). It’s been getting harder to separate what’s real and what’s not."

You opened your mouth to respond, but the director called everyone back to set before you could get a word in.

~🎬~

The rest of the day was a blur, Hugh’s confession playing on a loop in your mind. By the time you wrapped for the day, you found him sitting in one of the trailers, staring at his phone, clearly deep in thought.

You knocked softly on the doorframe. "Hey."

He looked up, his face softening as soon as he saw you. "Hey."

You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. "So…about earlier."

He stood up, his hands slipping into his pockets, suddenly looking far less like the confident actor you knew. "Yeah, about that…"

"Was that you going off-script?" you teased, though your heart was racing.

He chuckled, but his eyes stayed serious. "Something like that."

You took a deep breath. "Well, for the record…I think I’ve been blurring the lines, too."

His eyes widened in surprise. "You have?"

You nodded, feeling your cheeks heat up. "Yeah. I mean, how could I not? You’re Hugh freakin’ Jackman."

He let out a real laugh this time, the tension in the room breaking. "And you’re (Y/N) freakin’ (L/N)."

You smiled, taking a step closer. "So, what do we do now?"

He shrugged, stepping toward you as well. "Well, there’s no script for this part. I say we improvise."

With that, Hugh closed the gap between you, pulling you into a soft, lingering kiss—one that felt far more real than anything the cameras had captured all day.

And for once, it wasn’t acting.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @haytchee @corvusmorte @shybluebirdninja @chronicallybubbly @evasmlp @lex-the-flex

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!!

[moonxknightx]

Actor!hughjackman and actress!fem-reader star in a quite 21+ movie when they have such explicit naked and sex scenes, with some age-gap (reader is early 30s and hugh is 55 which is his actual age now). As time goes by, hugh start to catch feelings for her and even sometimes gets jealous when reader gets steamy scenes with other male actors which ic ridiculous🤣

GOD I LOVE THIS REQUEST!! Ofc Hugh is jealous😭😭

I really hope you’ll enjoy what i came up with! The link is below:

Hugh Jackman ➝ Off Script

Enjoy❤️

[moonxknightx]

Hey loves, just wanted to say i’m sorry for being so inactive these past couple of days, i just started my last two weeks of my internship abroad, so it’s been really busy for me, BUT i’ll try my best to put some content out this week. ❤️

[moonxknightx]

Can I pretty pls be added to the falling for the stoplight tag list 🩷🩷

Hi love! Yes of course!! I will add you in the following chapters ❤️

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : MAKE UP ARTIST : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None just pure cuteness :))

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: As Hugh Jackman's personal makeup artist and costume designer, you're used to working closely with him on set. But when you're tasked with applying makeup to his shirtless chest for a scene, the professional barrier between you starts to blur. With each brushstroke, the tension builds, and what begins as a routine makeup session turns into something far more intimate—culminating in a sweet, unexpected kiss that changes everything.

Based on this request.

YOU SHUFFLED THROUGH THE PILE OF BRUSHES, prosthetics, and small jars of pigment spread across your workstation. Today’s shoot was going to be an intense one. Hugh, the leading man, was going through another round of makeup tests for the action scenes, and your job was to apply the simulated cuts and bruises on his torso. Normally, this would be a typical day in your career as a makeup artist and costume designer—nothing you hadn’t handled before. But Hugh Jackman? Shirtless? That was a whole different level of focus required.

You rolled your shoulders, forcing yourself to breathe evenly. Hugh was charming, down-to-earth, and professional—completely unaware of the effect he had on people, including you. It didn’t help that the studio had turned the AC down a notch, and you could already feel your palms sweating.

“Hey, sweetheart, you all set?” Hugh’s voice called from behind the changing screen. You glanced up just as he stepped into view, dressed—or rather, undressed —for the scene. His sculpted chest was on full display, the smooth lines of his muscles catching the soft light filtering through the studio windows. His hair was still damp from the shower, and you caught a faint whiff of fresh soap as he moved closer to your station.

You swallowed, clutching your makeup brush a little tighter. “Y-yeah, all set,” you stammered, cursing yourself internally for sounding so flustered. Professional. Stay professional.

Hugh shot you a friendly grin, running a hand through his damp hair as he sat down in the makeup chair. “Ready for you to work your magic,” he said, leaning back casually.

You took a deep breath and moved closer. The first task was to apply some subtle bruising along his collarbone and ribs, where his character had taken a nasty hit. “Okay, just relax for me,” you murmured, dipping your brush into the blue-purple palette that would create the illusion of injury.

As you started applying the makeup, you couldn’t help but notice how perfect his skin was. Despite all the intense action sequences, stunts, and training he had done over the years, his skin was smooth and warm under your touch. You tried to focus, but the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed was distracting—very distracting.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, dabbing the first bit of color near his collarbone. Your fingers brushed his skin as you worked, and you swore you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Yeah, feels great,” Hugh said, his voice warm and relaxed. He tilted his head slightly, giving you more access to the area you were working on. “You always do an amazing job, by the way. The makeup and costumes—everything just comes together because of you.”

You froze for a second, your brush hovering mid-air. Did he really just say that? A warm blush crept up your neck, and you quickly looked away, focusing on blending the makeup to hide your sudden embarrassment.

“T-thanks,” you managed, keeping your voice steady. “I’m just doing my job.”

Hugh chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Don’t sell yourself short. Everyone on set talks about how talented you are.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you refused to let it show. You focused on your work, brushing over his ribs and trailing down toward his abdomen, where you needed to add more detail. The proximity of your hand to his toned abs was making your mind wander, and you could feel your pulse quickening.

“Hold still for a sec,” you murmured, trying to mask your nerves with professionalism. You stepped in even closer, concentrating on the bruising near his ribs. Your breath caught as your fingertips brushed his skin again, and for a brief moment, you swore you felt his muscles tense slightly under your touch.

Hugh shifted, tilting his head to look at you, his eyes filled with curiosity. “You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You blinked, startled by the sudden gentleness in his tone. “Yeah, just making sure everything looks right,” you said quickly, focusing on the bruise you were blending on his chest. But when you glanced up, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

His gaze lingered for a moment before he smiled, a slow, easy grin that sent warmth flooding through you. “You know,” he said, his tone playful but somehow... thoughtful, “you always seem so focused when you’re working. I admire that.”

Your cheeks burned, and you could only nod in response, not trusting yourself to speak. His compliment felt personal, like it wasn’t just about your job anymore. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your hands steady as you worked your way up to his collarbone again, adding the finishing touches to the makeup.

“You’re all done,” you said, stepping back and forcing yourself to take a deep breath. “What do you think?”

Hugh glanced down at his chest, examining the realistic bruises and scrapes you’d applied. “Wow, that looks incredible,” he said, his admiration clear in his voice. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

You smiled, relief washing over you that he was happy with the result. “Glad you like it.”

He stood up, stretching slightly, and you tried not to stare as his muscles shifted under the lighting. “You’re seriously talented, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes meeting yours again. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a makeup artist as good as you.”

You felt a flutter in your chest, the sincerity in his voice leaving you speechless for a moment. “Thank you,” you said, your voice soft. “That means a lot.”

Hugh’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you in the quiet of the studio. Then, with that same charming smile, he added, “I mean it. You make coming to set the best part of the day.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile back. Maybe working with a shirtless Hugh Jackman wasn’t as nerve-wracking as you thought—maybe, just maybe, it was something more.

Before you could respond, you noticed Hugh stepping closer, his warm gaze locked on yours. There was a moment of hesitation—just the smallest flicker of uncertainty—but then he leaned in, his hand gently brushing your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Hugh whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

And before you could think, before you could even comprehend what was happening, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and so, so tender. The world seemed to stop for a second as you kissed him back, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest.

The kiss was sweet, slow, and utterly perfect. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless and smiling like a pair of fools.

“You’re full of surprises,” you whispered, still in awe of what had just happened.

Hugh chuckled softly, his hand caressing your cheek. “Maybe. But I had to take my chance.”

And in that moment, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @kellyxo1 @corvusmorte @haytchee @shybluebirdninja @evasmlp @veru-boom @lex-the-flex

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know!! 🫶

[moonxknightx]

maybe a little specific, but... what do you think about something like, the reader being Hugh's personal makeup artist and costume designer, and her having to deal with this gorgeous shirtless man waiting for her to apply the makeup tests of injuries to his chest

HI LOVE🫶

I REALLY FUCKING LOVE THIS REQUEST!!

I tried my best to make it as good as possible!!

The link is below:

Hugh Jackman ➝ Make Up Artist

Enjoy❤️

[moonxknightx]

OldStepdad!loganhowlett and stepdaughter!fem-human reader. Logan being nasty bcs he married her mother in order to ONLY have her daughter. He can't do it the normal way to properly ask her out since there is huge age gap between them (reader is in early 30s and actually an adult herself and logan is in his early 60s, a retired mutant army as the wolverine himself). At first, reader is happy that her mother can be with someone else in her old days but oh girlieee she doesnt know the real truth. Reader is pursuing the master degree at the other city and logan tries to follow her. Oh also you can make it in the end that the mother dies of sickness and old age, and then finally logan can be freely bothering the reader.

YOOO I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!

I really hope i did it justice with what i came up with

Here is the link:

OldStepdad!Logan Howlett ➝ Forbidden Intentions

Enjoy!!!

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : FORBIDDEN INTENTIONS: :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Old!Stepdad!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: i don’t even know what to call this genre tbh….

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: X-Men

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: Age Gap: Significant age difference between characters, Manipulation: Themes of manipulation and deception, Romantic Tension: Intense romantic and sexual tension, Mature Content: Contains mature themes and emotional intensity. Family Dynamics: Complex and potentially distressing family relationships.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You thought Logan, your mother’s husband, was a blessing for her in her later years. But after her passing, you discover he married her to get close to you. Now, as Logan’s relentless pursuit of you unfolds, you’re torn between feelings of betrayal and an unexpected, unsettling attraction.

Based on this request.

YOU DIDN’T HATE LOGAN. In fact, when your mother introduced him into your life five years ago, you were almost relieved. After all, it had been just the two of you for years, and seeing her with someone in her later years seemed like a blessing. She deserved to be happy, and Logan seemed to care for her.

At least, that’s what you thought.

You were in your early thirties, and your mom—well, she was getting older. Logan was retired from whatever military past he had. You knew he was more than just a regular guy, but she never really told you much about him beyond that. Still, there was something about the way he looked at you, something… intense.

“Good to see you, kid,” he said gruffly when you visited home that weekend from university.

“I'm not a kid, Logan,” you corrected him, smiling as you placed your bags down. “Master's degree, remember? I'm practically a professor by now."

He raised an eyebrow, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Yeah, sure. But you’ll always be the kid to me.” His voice was rough, like gravel under boots, and there was always an edge to it, something that made your skin prickle whenever he was around. Still, you brushed it off as just him being… well, Logan.

~

Your mother had taken ill shortly after you started your master's program, and you made the journey back home every few weeks to check in. Logan was always there, looming. He never gave you much space, but it was the way he looked at you that had started to make you uncomfortable.

One evening, after your mother had fallen asleep early, the two of you sat in the living room. The TV was on, but the noise was nothing but background to the silence hanging between you both.

“So, you still seeing that guy from your class?” Logan asked suddenly, his eyes not leaving the TV screen, though you knew he wasn’t really paying attention to it.

You blinked, surprised at the question. "What? How do you know about that?”

He shrugged, finally glancing over at you. “Your mom mentioned it.”

“Uh, no, actually,” you said, shifting a little in your seat. “It didn’t work out. We weren’t really… compatible.”

“Hmph,” Logan grunted, his lips quirking slightly. “Good.”

“Good?” You echoed, confused. “Why is that good?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze suddenly piercing as he looked at you. “Guy wasn’t right for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. There it was again, that intensity. His eyes seemed to bore into you, not in the way a father figure would watch over his stepdaughter. No, there was something else, something darker.

You swallowed hard. “Logan, what—what do you mean by that?”

“You’re smart, kid,” he said lowly, leaning back against the couch. “You can figure it out.”

“I—” The words caught in your throat, and you stood up abruptly. “I should check on Mom.”

~

Months passed, and your mother’s condition worsened. Logan had become a constant presence in your life, more than you ever wanted or expected. You started to notice how often he would drop by your apartment in the city. Always with an excuse—"Just passing through," or "Wanted to make sure you’re doing alright."

It was unnerving.

“Logan, you don’t have to come all this way just to check on me,” you told him one afternoon as you caught him lingering by your door again.

He leaned against the doorframe, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Sure, I do. Can’t have you out here all alone, can I?”

“I’m an adult,” you snapped. “I can handle myself.”

He chuckled softly, his eyes trailing over you in a way that made your stomach twist. “You can try. But that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere.”

~

Your mother passed quietly in her sleep one cold winter evening. The grief was sharp, cutting through you like a knife, and while you were thankful she no longer had to suffer, the loss left a deep void in your heart. Logan was there at the funeral, of course, standing stoically beside you.

“She loved you,” you murmured through tears, staring down at the casket. “She really loved you, Logan.”

“She did,” he agreed, his voice low and steady.

You turned to him, something breaking inside of you. “What am I supposed to do now? She was everything.”

He stepped closer, his hand resting on your shoulder. “You got me.”

The words felt wrong. He wasn’t the comfort you needed, but he was all you had left.

~

Weeks passed after your mother's death, and Logan stayed around. No matter how much you tried to distance yourself, he was there. At your apartment, waiting when you returned from class, sitting at your usual café, casually slipping into your life in ways that you could no longer ignore.

One night, after a particularly long day of classes and work, you found him waiting in your kitchen.

“How the hell did you get in here?” you demanded, your heart racing as you dropped your keys onto the counter.

He shrugged. “Door was unlocked.”

“Bullshit,” you spat. “I locked it. Logan, you can’t keep doing this.”

His expression darkened, and he stepped closer. Too close. “I’ve waited long enough, kid. Your mom’s gone. There’s nothing stopping us now.”

Your blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I stuck around for her? For all those years?”

You took a step back, your mind reeling. Logan's gaze was locked onto yours, the truth crashing into you like a tidal wave. Every warning sign, every lingering look, the possessive edge in his words—everything suddenly made sense, but it was too much. Your heart raced as the room seemed to close in on you.

“You didn’t—” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper. “You didn’t stay for her?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t bother pretending anymore. Instead, he stepped forward, his presence filling the small space between you, suffocating. "She was a means to an end. I stayed for you."

The weight of his confession hung in the air, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You wanted to scream, to push him away, but the raw intensity in his eyes pinned you in place

“Logan, this isn’t right,” you managed, your voice trembling. “She was my mother. You were her husband.”

His lips curled into a smirk, one that made your skin crawl. “Your mom knew what she was getting. But she’s gone now. You and I… we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

You shook your head, stepping back until your back hit the counter. "No, this is insane. There’s a huge age gap, Logan. You’re—you're like sixty, and I’m—"

“Thirty-two,” he interrupted, his voice deep and rumbling. “You’re an adult. Hell, you’re smarter and more capable than most people I’ve ever met. And you think I give a damn about age? I’m older than you know, sweetheart. I’ve seen and done things you can’t imagine.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. Everything about this felt wrong, but at the same time, Logan had always been a larger-than-life figure in your world. There was something magnetic about him, something that pulled you in even when you didn’t want it to.

“This is twisted,” you whispered, trying to find your footing, to regain some control over the conversation. "I... I need time."

Logan’s expression softened—just a little. He stepped back, giving you space, but his eyes never left yours. "Take your time," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "But I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever."

~

In the weeks that followed, you tried to distance yourself from him, to process what had happened, but Logan was relentless. He never pushed you physically, but he was always there, lurking at the edges of your life. His presence was inescapable, a constant reminder of the tension that simmered between you both.

You thought about moving cities, quitting your master’s program, anything to put more space between you, but you knew Logan would find a way to follow. He always did.

One night, as you sat in your apartment, your mind racing with thoughts of escape, there was a knock at the door. You didn’t have to guess who it was.

When you opened the door, Logan stood there, his expression unreadable. For once, there was no smirk, no cocky attitude. He looked... tired.

“What do you want, Logan?” you asked, your voice tight with frustration.

“I came to talk,” he said simply, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I wonder why,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “You dropped a bomb on me, and you expect everything to be fine?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “I never expected it to be easy. I knew what I was doing wasn’t… conventional.”

“Conventional?” You let out a bitter laugh. “Logan, you married my mother just to get close to me. Do you have any idea how messed up that is?”

“I didn’t plan it that way,” he said quietly, his voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard it. “But once I met you, I couldn’t shake it. Your mom was lonely, and I knew I could take care of her, make her last years happy. But it was always about you. From the start.”

Your breath hitched at his confession. There was a part of you that wanted to scream at him, to tell him how wrong all of this was. But another part—one you didn’t want to admit existed—was drawn to him. You hated it, but it was there.

“Logan,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “this isn’t something I can just accept. You manipulated my mother. You’ve been manipulating me. How can you expect anything between us after that?”

He took a step closer, and this time, you didn’t move away. His eyes softened as he looked down at you, the weight of years behind them. “Because we’re the same, kid. You know it as much as I do. You’re not scared of me—you’re scared of how much you feel this too.”

You felt your pulse quicken, his words cutting through every wall you’d tried to build. "Logan…"

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’ve waited long enough. I’ll wait as long as you need. But don’t think I’m gonna give up on this. On us."

His touch was surprisingly tender, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. You hated how good it felt, how much you craved that connection, even if it came from him.

“Maybe…” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “maybe I need more time.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

With that, Logan turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, heart racing, and mind reeling. You watched him go, knowing that this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want it to be.

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