Princess / Logan Howlett ༄ ‧₊˚
summary: logan's variant in wade's world is indifference of the one you were familiar or heard about. until he proves you wrong on the rumors being spread about him.
ps; i apologies if there is a few grammatical errors, as english isn't my first language.
enjoy!
Logan’s heightened senses drove him to madness, fixated on what he considered his. Though his other selves shared similar traits, his obsession was a love language all its own—a twisted devotion that everyone recognized, and no one could forget.
Meeting him felt vague, yet endearing—at least in Wade’s eyes, especially when he caught the slight stutter in your voice. Your frame was just a bit smaller than Logan’s, something Wade couldn’t resist teasing you about, loudly enough to draw Logan’s protective gaze. “Will you leave them alone? I’m still amazed you have any friends with that loud mouth of yours,” he quipped, his tone half-joking but fully defensive.
Poor thing—a nickname he’d mostly outgrown, reserved now for special moments. Like when you struggled to reach something just out of your grasp. He’d watch you for a moment, scoff softly, and set his journal down before his shadow loomed over you. With effortless ease, he’d retrieve the item, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Poor thing,” he’d murmur. “You could’ve just asked the man for help.”
A pout formed on your lips as you rolled your eyes at his remark. Was he always such an asshole? You wondered, though it was hardly surprising after the stories Wade had shared about their first encounter. Searching for one variant was challenging enough, but finding the one in Wade’s world was something else entirely. Despite initially hating him—just as he harbored a slight disdain for you—you eventually outgrew your disdain for Wolverine, outgrew the man you never imagined you’d feel safe with.
After just a few months of living together, it was Logan’s feelings for you that began to deepen. A man of tradition, he’d often help you cook for Wade and anyone else who joined, a gesture you were slowly getting used to. But Wade, ever the tease, would sneak in during Logan’s absence and whisper, “If he doesn’t confess, I’ll make him confess.” His remark usually earned a smack on the chest, just as Logan would walk into the kitchen, eyebrow raised at the two of you. Wade, unfazed, would lean in and quip, “For my sanity, and everyone else’s.”
Later that night, Wade went out with Vanessa, giving you and Logan some rare time alone—a move you knew was just an excuse. As you washed the dishes, a comfortable silence settled over the room. Logan’s soft whistling filled the quiet, bringing a sense of calm that made you chuckle. He raised an eyebrow at the sound. “What’s so funny?” he asked, not looking your way as he finished the last of the plates.
You remained silent for a moment, a soft smile playing on your lips as you savored the peace. After a small shrug, you finally spoke. “Nothing, just enjoying this moment…” You paused, your eyes meeting his. “With you.”
Your quiet confession was enough to make him flustered. Though he hated feeling this way, he couldn’t deny the truth: your company was something he enjoyed, something he wanted to hold on to for as long as possible. Mirroring your smile, he saw you waiting for his response, so he gave it. “Me too,” he said softly, his voice calm as he set the towel down on the counter and turned to face you. Another moment of silence passed before you felt his thumb graze your chin. “And maybe spending even more time together…”
Your lashes fluttered, a detail he couldn’t help but admire—so much so, it drove him wild, igniting the possessive need to claim you as his own. Worthy of him, and only him, to love and cherish. “May I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low. The question wasn’t really an offer, not when you felt the same way. With a simple nod, you answered, “Anytime, Logan Howlett.”
Hearing his full name from your lips made him smile, envisioning a future where his name was etched into your heart. It was enough to fuel his desire, the need to make you his. He leaned in slowly, savoring the moment, though the hunger in him grew as your lips brushed against his. His strong fingers gently cupped your face before sliding to your waist, lifting you effortlessly into his arms as your legs wrapped around him.
He walked over to the couch, his hunger now transformed into a fervent passion. He wanted you, and as he sat down, with you nestled on his lap, it felt perfect. With a teasing smirk on your lips, you lightly brushed your hips against him. His head fell back, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. His voice came out rough, curses slipping through as he muttered, “You’re driving me insane. Come here, baby girl.” The nickname carried a shift in his tone—Logan had become the Wolverine, his wicked smirk and darkened eyes never leaving you. Finally, he confessed, “It’s a shame Wade isn’t here to see what I’m going to do to you tonight… to claim you as mine… Princess.’"