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d1stalker · 1 month

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Undercover Flames II [Logan Howlett]

Summary: You may have been rescued, but the enemy is still out there, and it’s going to take way more than just a direct assault to get them to talk. Your plan, however, does nothing to calm Logan’s nerves.

PART TWO OF TWO (part one here)

Warnings: canon-level violence, brief argument

WC: 7.2K - MASTERLIST

----

You wake up to the warmth of Logan’s body pressed against yours, the rise and fall of his chest soothing in its steady rhythm. The light is soft, filtering through the curtains and for a moment, you allow yourself to stay still, savouring the peace of this rare, tranquil morning. Logan’s arm is draped protectively over your waist, his hand resting against your stomach, fingers splayed out as if to keep you anchored to him.

As you turn in his embrace, Logan stirs, his hold on you tightening instinctively before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Morning,” you reply, a smile tugging at your lips as you watch him slowly blink his eyes open. His gaze is soft, warm in a way that’s reserved only for these quiet moments between you.

It has been just over four months since you were rescued from the clutches of the anti-mutant organization, and in that time, you’ve made remarkable strides in your recovery. The nightmares that once haunted you relentlessly have become few and far between, no longer a nagging constant at the back of your mind. Your body, once battered and bruised, has healed with time and care. After three weeks of rest, you cautiously returned to training—starting slow, attentive to not reopen old wounds or strain muscles that were still mending. You’ve not only regained your strength but it almost appears like you’ve surpassed it, driven by a fierce determination to never feel that powerless again.

Last month marked a significant milestone: your first assignment back. The instructions were straightforward—an investigation into a drug dealer whose clients had been mysteriously dying within days of their transactions. It wasn’t the most complex of tasks, but it was a crucial step in regaining your confidence in the field. Logan, of course, wasn’t thrilled about you heading out so soon. You could see the worry in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched when the assignment was discussed. However, true to his word, he stepped back, allowing you the space to do what you needed to do. He trusted you to handle it, even if every protective instinct in him was screaming to stay close.

But his companionship was never lost on you. His actions speak volumes—over the years of knowing each other, he’s learned to read you in ways that no one else can, picking up on the smallest details that others might overlook. And now that you’re lovers, he finally allows himself to show you just how much he’s always noticed, how deeply he’s cared all along.

He’s always a step ahead of you, anticipating your needs before you even realize them yourself. Whether it’s tossing you a water bottle after a grueling training session, offering you his jacket when he notices the temperature drop, or silently placing a hand on your back to steady you when you’re about to lose your balance—Logan is there, solid and dependable.

His support is in the small, almost indiscernible touches. You’ve noticed that he’ll lightly brush his fingers against your hand when he senses you’re anxious, he’ll place a hand on your shoulder when you’re deep in thought, the warmth of his touch a silent reminder that you’re not alone. And when you’re seated beside each other, his thigh will always be connected with yours.

Seeing this side of Logan, the side that he rarely shows to anyone, has deepened your love for him to a level you never thought possible. You’ve always cared for him—admired his strength, his loyalty, and his unyielding determination—but now, as he allows himself to be vulnerable with you, to let down the walls he’s built up over so many years, you find yourself falling for him all over again, deeper and deeper.

You’ve never felt so seen, so understood, it’s as if Logan has tuned into every part of who you are, cherishing even the smallest details. Knowing that he trusts you enough to show this side of himself, to let you in past his barriers fills you with a gratitude that words can hardly express. You feel honoured, and so incredibly lucky to be the one who gets to see the real him—the one who’s gentle, thoughtful, and so much more than the tough exterior he shows the world.

Logan’s hand slides up your side, breaking you from your haze, his thumb brushing over your ribs with tenderness

“How’re you feeling?”

“Amazing,” you say, and it’s the truth. Everything Logan has done for you, both before and after the incident, has helped you become stronger—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well. “Thanks to you.”

He grunts, a sound that would seem dismissive to anyone else, but you’ve learned to hear the subtleties in it—the satisfaction, the pride that he tries to keep hidden. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing the side of your forehead in a gesture that’s more comforting than words could ever be. “Just doing my job,” he huffs.

“Sure,” you tease, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw, feeling the familiar roughness of his stubble beneath your touch. “But not everyone’s job description includes being my personal heater.”

Logan chuckles, his tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” you say, your smile widening as you lean in, your lips pressing against his in a soft, lingering kiss.

When you pull back, Logan’s eyes are filled with that familiar mix of longing and reluctance, the same look he’s given you every morning since the rescue. It’s a look that makes your chest ache because you know what it means. He wants to protect you, to keep you safe from the world outside this room, but he knows he can’t always do that. Even though he’s managed to back off and let you do your own thing, you know deep down that he would rather stick by your side every second of the day. He’s holding onto you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, like the world outside is too dangerous to face without you by his side.

You’re about to say something to ease the tension you can see building in his expression when the X-Men communicator on the nightstand beeps, breaking the peaceful silence.

Logan’s expression darkens instantly, the moment of calm shattered as reality crashes back in. He reaches over, grabbing the device with a resigned sigh. The message on the screen is brief, something you’ve seen hundreds of times, but still manages to make all the muscles in your body seize—a meeting in the war room in an hour.

“Duty calls,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he replies, his tone gruff as he sets the communicator down with more force than necessary. “Always does.”

There’s a heavy pause between you, both of you acutely aware of what’s coming, what you’ll have to face. You know its time to focus back on you and Logan’s original mission—the anti-mutant group. The thought of it sends a shiver down your spine, but before you can dwell on it too long, Logan turns to you, his hand reaching out to gingerly cup your face, his thumb running over your cheek.

“I just wish… we could hang up the suits, ya know?” he says, “Be selfish for once. Just you and me, somewhere far away from all this crap.”

His words break through the tough shell he usually hides behind. You catch the look in his eyes—the yearning for a life without the constant fights, without the endless dangers. It’s a life you’ve both fantasized about in fleeting moments, but one that always seems just out of reach.

“Logan,” you whisper, bringing one of your hands to rest atop of his—the one on your cheek. “That’s not who you are. You joined the our team because you wanted to help people, to make a difference. That’s who you are—a protector. You’d never be happy just sitting on the sidelines, not when you know there’s still work to be done.”

He released a long breath, his gaze moving to where your hands are connected. “Yeah, I know, darlin’. But sometimes… I just wish we could be together without threats hanging over our heads. Without havin’ to fight every damn day.”

It breaks your heart to know that the life he wants—the peace he craves—is something you can’t give him, not yet.

You move closer, placing a soothing kiss on the tip of his nose, a gesture that’s meant to comfort both of you. “I wish that too,” you admit. “More than anything.”

He looks at you for a long moment, searching your eyes for something—reassurance, hope, maybe just the strength to keep going. Finally, he nods, the tension in his jaw easing slightly as he leans into your touch, his forehead resting against yours.

“I know I’ve said this before but… I just can’t go through that again,” he says, voice husky and intimate, referring to the time when you were taken and tortured. The memory of those days still haunts him, a shadow that lingers even in the light of your recovery.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore ,” you promise, “We’ll win this time.”

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t push back. Instead, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he can shield you from all the dangers that lie ahead. And for this moment, you let him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him as you cling to the warmth and safety of his embrace.

–

The war room feels like it's vibrating with the unspoken tautness that hangs in the air, the usual hum of quiet conversations replaced by an almost suffocating silence. The X-Men gather around the large, circular table, all eyes drawn to the holographic map that flickers to life at the center, casting a bluish glow over the faces of the team.

Scott stands at the head of the table. His visor hides the full intensity of his gaze, but the way his jaw is set, and the tension in his posture reveals enough. There’s no need for words to convey the stakes—everyone knows that what they do next could be the turning point in their ongoing battle against the anti-mutant organization that has been a thorn in their side for far too long.

“We’ve finally got an update on the organization’s movements,” he announces, “It’s taken longer than we’d hoped, and we’ve lost precious time because they’ve gone to ground. Their losses during our rescue mission were significant, but that only means they’re going to be even more cautious from here on out.”

As he speaks, the holographic map shifts, transforming into a detailed 3D model of a remote, mountainous region far from any major city. The terrain is rugged, the kind of place where someone could easily disappear if they didn’t want to be found. The map zooms in, highlighting the location where the organization has apparently relocated—another isolated, heavily fortified compound, this time nestled within the mountains.

Jean, standing just to the right of Scott, steps forward to add her insights.

“They’ve moved their operations here,” she says, “From what we’ve gathered, this new location is far more secure. They’ve enhanced their security protocols significantly. They’re not going to let another attack happen easily, especially after the damage we inflicted last time.”

The hologram continues to shift, revealing more details about the new facility: the reinforced walls, the watchtowers equipped with advanced surveillance, the array of weaponry designed to repel even the most determined assault. It’s clear that the organization has learned from their mistakes—they’ve gone underground, and they’ve fortified their defenses to the point where any attempt to breach them would require more than just brute force.

The room remains silent. Your team has faced insurmountable odds before, but this is different. This is a challenge that requires more than just strength; it demands strategy, cunning, and the kind of precision that doesn’t leave room for error.

Scott lets the silence linger for a moment, before continuing. “We’re dealing with a highly secure facility,” his voice cuts through the quiet. “And they know we’re coming. We need to be smart about our next move. No plan isn’t an option; it’s suicide.”

Flickering of the 3D model casts an eerie glow in the room as his words hang in the air. Jean, who has been studying the map intently, speaks up again. “We need to take down the leaders without giving them a chance to regroup or escape. If we can isolate them from their security forces and cut off their communication, we’ll have them cornered.”

Hank nods in agreement. “Their reliance on advanced technology is both their strength and their weakness.”

“We could use the terrain to our advantage, I could create natural disaster—an avalanche, perhaps—that forces them to redirect their resources,” Ororo suggests from her place, “While they’re dealing with that, a small, covert team could infiltrate the compound and take whoever’s directing by surprise.”

Scott considers this, his mind running through the logistics. “It’s risky, but it could work. We’ll need to divide our forces. Here’s the plan: Ororo, just like last time, you’ll create the distraction—a controlled avalanche to draw their attention and forces away from the main compound. Hank, you’ll work on disabling their communications and security systems. ”

He pauses. “And knowing you, you’ll be able to breach their data system and gather all their information, right?”

Hank smirks, “you didn’t even need to ask.”

Scott turns his gaze to you next, “You, Jean, and Logan will then enter with the primary objective of finding the leaders.”

As he speaks, a thought strikes you—something that could turn the tide even more decisively in your favor. You step forward.

“Instead of all three of us focusing on infiltration, I think we should split our efforts. Jean and Logan can act as a distraction on the interior—draw attention away from the main targets—while I go in as a spy. I can locate the leaders, snuff them out, and corner them before they even realize what’s happening.”

Scott tilts his head slightly, considering your suggestion. The rest of the team turns to you, their expressions ranging from curiosity to concern. But it’s Logan’s gaze that whips toward you with immediate sharpness, his protective instincts on high alert.

“You’re suggesting we divide our forces even more?” Scott asks cautiously, like he needs you to confirm what you had just said. “Jean and Logan as a diversion, while you go in alone?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with confidence. “Exactly. With Jean’s telepathy and Logan’s… well, Logan’s everything, they can create enough chaos on the interior to keep the guards and security forces occupied,” you state, “Meanwhile, I’ll move undetected through the compound. I can locate the leaders’ exact position and contain them before they have a chance to escape or call for help.”

“It makes sense,” Hank pipes up, “If Logan and Jean draw the attention of the security forces, you can slip through the cracks while they’re preoccupied, get to the leaders, and cut the head off the snake.”

Before anyone else can chime in, Logan steps forward, his features furrowed. “No,” he says flatly, his voice like a growl. “I don’t like the idea of you going in alone—it’s too risky. We can’t have a repeat of what happened last time.”

You meet his eyes, understanding his concern, but you remain resolute. “I know it’s risky, but it’s the best way to ensure we get the leaders without triggering a full-scale assault.”

“Best way? Or the most dangerous way?” he shoots back, and you can feel his frustration growing. “You’re talking about going in there alone, with no backup. If something goes wrong, we might not get to you in time.”

“That’s why we have the distraction,” you counter, “You and Jean will keep the guards occupied, and I’ll move quickly. It’s our best shot.”

He bites down hard, the muscles in his neck straining as he struggles to keep his temper under control. “Damn it, this isn’t about taking shots, it’s about keeping you safe!” His voice rises slightly, “You don’t need to do this alone. We can find another way.”

“I’m not doing it alone,” you reassure, “I’ll have the team behind me, just like always. You know as well as I do that if we all go in together, it’ll be a bloodbath. This is the only way to avoid that.”

“And what happens if you get caught? What happens if they see through the distraction? You think I can just stand back and watch while you put yourself in the line of fire? If you get taken again…” he can barely finish his sentence as all of his fears seem to flash before his eyes.

“Logan, you’re not hearing me,” you insist, stepping closer to him. “This isn’t about me wanting to take unnecessary risks. It’s about making sure the mission succeeds. If we don’t do this right, it’s not just me—it’s all of us, all mutants, at risk.”

The room is silent, the rest of the team watching the exchange with bated breath, knowing it’s not their place to step in. They look on with concern, eyes flicking between you and Logan.

Logan shakes his head. “I can’t lose you again, darlin’. I just… I need you to be safe.”

“I know, Logan,” you respond. “But this isn’t just about you or me. It’s about stopping these people once and for all. I need to do this. We need to do this.”

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, as if searching for the words he wants to say. When he looks back up at you, you can see the conflict in his eyes, begging you to take it back.

“Just promise me… promise me you’ll be careful. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. You find them, and you tell us. Immediately.”

“I promise,” you say, your voice sincere. “I’ll be careful. I’ll find them, and then we’ll take them down.”

Logan holds your gaze for a long moment, the tension between you slowly easing but not entirely dissipating. Finally, he nods, though his face remains tight with worry. “Alright. But I’m not letting you out of my sight once we’re in. As soon as you notify, I’ll be right there.”

Scott clears his throat, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand. “Then it’s settled,” he says, his voice a little gruffer than usual, as if he, too, felt the weight of the argument.

The team begins to disperse to finalize preparations, but Logan lingers, pulling you aside for a moment of privacy. His hand finds yours.

“I know you can handle this, but you gotta understand—I can’t lose you again, darlin’. So, whatever happens in there, you keep your head down and remember we’ve got your back.”

You look up at him, seeing the layers of emotion in his eyes—fear, anger, love, and a deep, almost desperate need to protect you. It both breaks your heart and strengthens your resolve. “I know, Logan,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return. “I’m not planning on being a hero. I just want to—need to—do my part to end this.”

He releases a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he nods slowly, reluctantly. “Alright. Let’s get this done.”

—-

Nestled deep within the uneven mountain range, strategically positioned on a plateau that overlooks the surrounding valleys, is the organizations base. The avalanche Ororo summoned looms threateningly, large bursts of snow and ice whipping through the valley, creating the perfect cover for your operation. Wind whistles through the land, followed by the rumble of mountains that shakes the very ground beneath your feet.

The distraction is in full effect.

Before you left the Blackbird, Logan pulled you aside. He didn’t waste time with words, instead leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that was both loving and fierce. It was a reminder of everything he felt, everything he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for in the heat of the moment.

And when he pulled back, his gaze swapping over you, like he was seeking to memorize every detail.

“Remember, I’ll be right with you as soon as you say the words”

Now, you’re crouched near a narrow ledge beside a small door, eyes scanning the base of the mountain where the compound’s defenses are now focused on the disaster outside. Logan and Jean are already inside, their presence wreaking havoc within, diverting the guards’ attention away from you. Every so often, you could hear distant sounds of conflict—the telltale shink of Logan’s claws, and the panicked shouts of guards trying to coordinate their defenses as he ripped through them.

You slip inside, lowering the trap door behind you as the sound of the storm fades into the distance. The passage is dark and cramped, the air thick with the scent of earth and stone. Each movement you make is deliberate and careful to avoid making noise. You’re able to find a somewhat agreeable position on your hands and knees, beginning the descent through the passage as it slopes downward, leading you deeper into the mountain and closer to your target.

After what feels like an eternity, the route widens, and you find yourself at the entrance to a narrow corridor. Pausing, you listen intently for any signs of movement, but all you hear is the mechanics behind the facility’s generators, muffled by the layers of rock and metal that surround you. The halls are freakishly quiet, the guards either drawn away by the avalanche or dispatched to Logan and Jean. Your breathing stays steady, your senses heightened as you navigate the twists and turns of the labyrinthine interior.

You’re close now, so close you can you can hear the muffled voices of the leaders on the other side, in the room where they’re all holed up, their tones laced with fear and frustration. Your heart pounds in your chest as you approach the final corner, every nerve ending on edge as you prepare to make your move.

But as you round the corner, you freeze in your place—there’s a guard standing just outside the door to the leaders’ room. He hasn’t seen you yet, but it’s only a matter of seconds before he does. His hand is already reaching for the radio on his belt, about to call in an alert.

You have no time to think, only to act. With a burst of speed, you lunge forward, slamming your hand over his mouth just as he begins to open it to shout. His eyes widen in shock, and he immediately starts to struggle, his body twisting as he tries to break free from your grip.

Unfortunatley, you knew from the moment you saw the him that using your powers wasn’t an option. The hallway is dark and narrow, the only illumination coming from faint emergency lights far down the corridor. If you were to use your cosmic abilities, the glow alone would give you away, casting unnatural light in a place that should be cloaked in shadows. Who know’s what threats that would attract?

Every instinct in you screams to unleash your energy, to end the fight quickly and decisively, but the risk is too great. One wrong move, one flash of light or sound that doesn’t belong, and the entire mission could be compromised. The element of surprise is your greatest advantage right now, and you can’t afford to lose it.

That’s why you have to do this the hard way—silently, and with nothing but your own strength and wits. It’s a gamble, but it’s the only way to ensure you reach the leaders undetected, without alerting every remaining guard in the compound to your presence.

The guard’s elbow connects with your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs, but you don’t let go. You tighten your grip, your other hand grabbing his wrist to prevent him from drawing his weapon. He thrashes violently, his strength surprising as he drives his knee into your stomach, nearly doubling you over with the force of the blow.

Pain radiates through your abdomen, but you grit your teeth and hold on, knowing that if he gets free, it would all be over. You push back with all your strength, slamming him into the wall with a sickening thud. His head snaps back, dazed, but he’s not down yet.

He recovers quickly, his free hand darting toward your face in a desperate attempt to claw at your eyes. You twist your head just in time, feeling his nails graze your cheek as you shift your weight, using the momentum to drive your knee into his thigh. Letting out a muffled grunt against your hand, he swivels his body again, this time managing to get one arm free. Before you can react, his fist slams into your side. You stagger, your grip slipping for just a fraction of a second—long enough for him to start reaching for the radio again.

Panic surges through you as you realize he’s about to call for help. Desperation drives you and with a burst of adrenaline, you bring your elbow up, smashing it into the side of his head. The blow is hard enough to daze him, and you use the opening to drive him back against the wall again, harder this time.

He slumps slightly, but you know you can’t let up. You release your grip on his wrist and, with a quick movement, drive your hand into the pressure point just below his ear. His eyes widen in shock, his body going rigid for a brief moment before his legs give out beneath him. You catch him as he falls, easing him to the ground as quietly as you can.

Your heart is pounding, your breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps as you crouch beside the unconscious guard. The silence of the hallway is deafening in the aftermath of the struggle, your pulse thundering in your ears. You take a moment to steady yourself, forcing your breathing to slow as you check the hallway for any sign of other guards. It’s still clear—for now.

You glance down at the guard, making sure he’s truly out cold before dragging him into a shadowed corner, out of sight from anyone who might happen to pass by. You press a hand to your side, wincing as you feel the dull ache where he landed that brutal punch. But there’s no time to dwell on the pain—you’re too close to your target to stop now.

With the guard taken care of, you turn your attention back to the room, adjusting your stance and running through the plan in your mind. There’s no mask, no barrier to hide your identity. The men in that room will know who you are—or at least, they’ll think they do. At the gala, you were Mrs. Daniels, the woman they believed was just another wealthy socialite. But tonight, they’ll learn the truth.

“I’m at the target,” you whisper into the comms, keeping your voice low. “Moving in now.”

With one final glance down the corridor to ensure there is no one else following your tracks, you slither through the door, moving like a shadow into the room. The old men are gathered around a large table, their expressions ranging from fear to fury as they argue in low, heated tones. Papers and maps are strewn across the table, evidence of their frantic attempts to come up with a plan as the everything falls apart around them.

They don’t notice you at first, too absorbed in their dispute to realize they’re no longer alone. You take advantage of their distraction, positioning yourself in the shadows near the door.

“What do you mean we’ve lost contact with the guard tower?” one of them hisses, his face pale and sweat-slicked. “This place is supposed to be impenetrable!”

“We should never have moved to this location,” another snaps, his hands trembling as he clutches the edge of the table. “We’re sitting ducks here!”

You let them bicker for a moment longer, taking in the layout of the room and assessing the situation. The leaders are cornered, with no visible exits other than the door you came through.

They’ve completely exposed themselves to you, and they don’t even realize it yet.

Finally you step forward, your presence announced by the soft rustle of your clothing as you emerge from the shadows, and the effect is immediate—every head snaps in your direction, eyes widening in shock as they take in the sight of you standing there.

The man who was speaking freezes mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he takes a closer look at you. Recognition dawns on his face, followed quickly by fear. “You… You’re the woman from the gala,” he stammers, his voice shaking. “Mrs. Daniels?”

You give him a cold, measured look, the corner of your mouth twitching into a faint smile. “Not exactly,” you answer, “But I’m glad you remember me.”

Without warning, you raise your hands, cosmic energy flaring to life around your fingers, shimmering with an ethereal glow. You begin shape the energy into chains, each one snaking through the air and wrapping around the men, binding them to their seats. They struggle, but the chains are unbreakable, pinning them in place with a force that leaves no room for escape. It’s almost satisfying, seeing these men in chains, so helpless—reminds you of when you were in the exact same position, in the dark, cold, cell of the island.

One of the men lets out a strangled cry, his eyes wide with terror. “Please! Don’t hurt us! We—we can negotiate!”

You step closer, your eyes cold as you survey the scene. “Negotiate? You think you have anything to bargain with?” you demand, knowing they won’t be able to answer. “You’ve done enough damage. Now it’s time to face the consequences.”

Just as you finish speaking, the door bursts open, and Logan strides in, Hank, who had managed to enter the compound after downloading all the data, following close behind. Logan’s eyes immediately zero in on the men and his expression shifts from that of concern to a furious glare.

“You’re lucky it was her who got here first,” the mutant seethes, “She spared you.”

The men cower in their seats, trembling visibly under the weight of Logan’s unrelenting gaze as he stalks toward them with a predatory grace. His presence fills the room, seeping into every corner, suffocating any hope they had of escape. With each step he takes, slow and deliberate, the air thickens, his movements calculated to instill fear in their very bones. His claws, unsheathed and glinting ominously in the dim light, are slick with fresh blood, and as he takes in the sight before him, his eyes narrow with cold, lethal intent, the silence punctuated only by the sound of their labored breaths, ragged with terror.

“If it were up to me, you’d be begging for mercy right about now.”

Hank, who had been watching from behind with a calculating expression, steps in. He places a hand on Logan’s shoulder, “Logan, we need them to talk.”

Logan doesn’t move at first, his eyes locked onto the quivering man in front of him. Ultimately, he narrows his eyes, pulling his claws back ever so slightly, though his posture remains alert and intense.

“They better start talking, then.”

Contrasting Logan’s blatant display of fury, Hank steps forward collectedly. His voice is even, almost clinical, as he addresses the leaders. “We have all the information we need—every file, every document. Your entire operation is in our hands. You have two choices: confess everything in a public conference, or we leak it all. The world will know what you’ve done, and you’ll be hunted down by more than just us.”

The man you recognize as the stocky one from the gala, perhaps emboldened by Hank’s more measured approach, tries to regain some semblance of control. He splutters, “You can’t do this… We’ll—”

But before he can finish, Logan is on him in a flash, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him forward until they’re nose to nose. The corners of your mouth flip upwards while the man lets out a strangled gasp, his eyes wide with terror.

“You don’t get to tell us what we can or can’t do. You’ve already lost, old man. Now it’s just a matter of how much pain you’re going to be in when this is over.”

Instantly, the stocky man loses all bravado, his face draining of colour is response to Logan’s aggression. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but no sound comes out. He’s utterly terrified, and rightfully so. The other groupies, seeing their comrade’s terror, exchange nervous glances. They’ve been completely outmaneuvered, and now they’re at the mercy of those they’ve wronged.

“They’ll confess,” you decide for them, stepping forward, gaining control over the situation. You deactivate the cosmic chains binding the men, though the energy still crackles ominously around your hands, a reminder of the power you wield. “Because they know what’s waiting for them if they don’t.”

Logan gives you a nod, his gaze softening slightly as he looks at you. There’s a flicker of pride in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the strength you’ve shown. “Good work, darlin’,” he muses.

You return his words with a small smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over you now that the worst is over.

“Let’s get them out of here.”

You, Logan, and Hank quickly work together to secure the leaders, ensuring they’re ready for transport back to the Blackbird. They’re too shaken to resist, their egos completely shattered. The sounds of battle outside have quieted—the rest of the team has done their job well.

Once inside the jet, Logan pulls you into a close embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tucks his head into the crook of your neck. The warmth of his body against yours should be comforting, but as he tightens his hold, a sharp pain flares up in your side where the guard had landed a solid kick earlier.

You can’t help the wince that escapes you, the pain lingering and making it hard to fully relax in his hold. Logan immediately pulls back, concern flashing in his eyes as they search yours. “What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low but edged with worry. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head slightly, “I’m fine,” you say, but the way Logan’s eyes narrow tells you he’s not buying it.

He doesn’t say anything else, just waits, his gaze steady and insistent. Finally, you sigh, knowing there’s no point in hiding it from him. “I ran into a guard right outside the room,” you admit, glancing down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “He was about to call for backup, and I had to take him out quietly. It got… a little rough.”

His expression darkens, his jaw clenching as he processes what you said. “I should track that bastard down and make him regret ever laying a hand on you.”

Despite the seriousness of his tone, there’s a warmth in his words that makes your heart swell. You reach out, placing a hand on his chest. “I handled it, Logan. It was just a fight, and I won.”

He grunts, though the anger in his eyes doesn’t entirely fade. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy making him pay for it.”

You give him a small, reassuring smile. “Well, you can save that energy for when we get these guys to talk.”

Logan nods, his expression becoming serious once more as he looks toward the secured leaders, who are being watched by the rest of the team. “They’ll talk,” he says, his voice carrying a promise of retribution.

“And if they don’t… well, we’ll make sure they wish they had.”

—-

Turns out, getting people to admit their crimes when threatened with their lives is easier than you thought. The men, who at one point, seemed so arrogant and untouchable, crumbled like a house of cards under the pressure. Faced with the undeniable evidence the X-Men had gathered and the very real threat of exposure, they agreed to hold a public conference, where they would confess to everything.

The world watched in shock as these well-known figureheads divulged their involvement in anti-mutant activities, including kidnapping, torture, and illegal experimentation. The fallout was immediate and severe—governments and law enforcement agencies across the globe moved swiftly to dismantle the remnants of their organization or any ties they had to its leaders, and within days, the men found themselves behind bars, stripped of their power and influence.

For the first time in months, you feel a sense of peace settling into your bones. The constant weight of fear, the dread that had plagued you since your capture, begins to lift. You’re finally able to breathe again, knowing that the people who hurt you, who threatened everything you cared about, are rotting in a cell, where they belong.

—

It’s late evening at the X-Mansion, and you find yourself in the kitchen, the comforting whir of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of dishes the only sounds breaking the quiet. Logan is there too, leaning next to you against the counter with a beer in hand. He’s out of his combat gear now, dressed in his usual casual attire—a worn flannel shirt and jeans, still stunning in the rugged simplicity of his appearance.

“You know,” you say, glancing at him with a playful smile as you pour yourself a glass of water, “I never took you for the beer-in-the-kitchen type. Always thought you’d be more of a ‘brooding with whiskey in the dark’ kind of guy.”

He smirks, taking a long sip from his bottle before responding. “Depends on the night,” he replies with a wink. “Sometimes I like to mix things up, keep you on your toes.”

You roll your eyes, setting your glass down on the counter as you lean in a little closer. “Is that so? Well, I’ve got to admit, seeing you all domestic in here is kind of nice. Who knew the Wolverine had a soft spot for late-night kitchen hangouts?”

Logan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that makes your heart skip a beat. “What can I say, sweetheart? Can’t have you thinking I’m all claws and no charm.”

“Oh, so you’re charming now?” you tease, reaching out to poke him playfully in the chest. “I must’ve missed that memo.”

Settings his beer down, Logan captures your hand in his and pulls you closer, his voice dropping to that thick, throaty tone that shoots right down to your core. “You know better than anyone that I’ve got plenty of charm. You just keep pretending not to notice.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as close the distance, resting your head against his chest. “Maybe I like keeping you on your toes too.”

He wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and for a moment, everything feels perfect—just the two of you, in the quiet of the kitchen, with nothing hanging over your heads. No missions, no threats, just peace.

Just like he had wished for.

“You know,” Logan starts after a long stretch of comfortable silence, “you’re a lot tougher than you give yourself credit for.”

You tilt your head back to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Says the guy who can heal from pretty much anything.”

He gives you a small, affectionate smile, his thumbs rubbing comforting circles along your waist. “I’m serious. What you went through… what we just did… not everyone could come out of that as strong as you have.”

“It helps to have someone like you around,” you admit softly. “I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

A tender look crosses his face, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You did more than just survive, darlin’. You fought back, and you won. Don’t ever forget that.”

The moment is interrupted when the kitchen door swings open, and Ororo walks in, pausing mid-step when she sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. Her eyebrows shoot up, a knowing smile spreading across her face.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Ororo teases, her tone light and playful. “Logan, I never expected you to be such a romantic. You’ve been holding out on us.”

Logan doesn’t miss a beat, his response immediate and full of that rough-edged warmth that you’ve come to love so much.

“Only for her.”

Ororo’s smile widens, and she gives you a wink before heading to the fridge, grabbing an apple and turning back to the door. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it, then. Just remember to keep it PG in the kitchen.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and unburdened as you bury your face in Logan’s chest, feeling the deep rumble of his own laughter vibrating against you. The sound is rich, a low and genuine noise that fills the space between you with fondness and affection.

“PG, huh?” you murmur into his shirt, your voice laced with amusement. “Guess that means we’re in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m always on my best behavior,” he smirks

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

He chuckles, his hand coming up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe. But I can be when it counts.”

You shake your head, grinning as you playfully swat his chest. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Logan captures your hand again, his grip warm and firm, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve already seen it,” he says huskily, “But if you need more convincing…”

You laugh, reaching your free hand to the back of his head, pulling him down into a passionate kiss, his mouth warm against yours, the taste of beer clouding your senses.

“You’re a good man, Logan,” you get out in between kisses, “And I’m glad you’re mine.”

Logan’s eyes gleam, and he pulls you impossibly closer, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. “I’m glad you’re mine too, darlin’.”

Later, when he finishes his beer and sets the empty bottle on the counter, he turns back to you, his expression content. “Ready to call it a night?”

You nod, feeling the pleasant weight of exhaustion beginning to settle in. “Yeah, I think so. But only if you promise to keep up this charming act tomorrow.”

Logan grins, taking your hand as you both head toward the door.

“Just for you, darlin’. Just for you.”

-------

A/N: thank you everyone for all the reblogs, comments, and notes i've received on this blog these last few days, i can't believe it's growing to fast!

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