Marvel & DC Oneshots

Money

(Logan Howlett x Reader)

(Reader can be read as mute or deaf!)

The car sputtered to a stop, surrounded by the green. The engine's protests heard.

Deep in the woods, Logan wiped his sweaty brow and sighed. His senses caught a distant car groaning. Slinging his axe over his broad shoulder, he stalked toward the source of the disturbance. A smirk crept as he approached the car and its frustrated owner.

"Car trouble, huh? Ain't the best place to break down," He grunted, eyeing your stalled car. "Lucky for you, I'm handy with more than just an axe."

'Thank you,' you sign, opening the hood of your car for him.

The tall, gruff stranger, now standing next to you, peers into the engine, a look of mild disinterest on his rough features.

"Let's see what happened here," He mutters, his voice gruff and gravelly. He looks over the various parts, his calloused hands moving with a surprising dexterity as he inspects the engine.

"Looks like you've got a busted fuel pump," He says, wiping some grease on his jeans.

'Can you fix it? I'll pay you.' You sign, mouthing the words in case he doesn't understand sign language.

The man looks back you, the faintest hint of surprise briefly flitting across his rugged features before they settle back into their usual gruff expression.

"Fix it?" He huffs gruffly. "Of course I can fix it. It's a busted fuel pump, ain't rocket science." He turns back to the car engine, rolling up his sleeves.

"But you ain't paying me," He adds, sounding matter-of-fact.

'Of course I am. You're helping me.' You continue mouthing along with your signing.

He continues tinkering with the engine, occasionally cursing under his breath. After a few minutes, he straightens up, folding his arms across his muscular chest.

"Fuel pump was outta whack. Fixed it. Should run fine now," He says bluntly, wiping the grease on his hands on his jeans.

"And like I said," He adds, his voice gruff. "You're not paying me a dime."

You huff and puff out your cheeks, signing something but not mouthing it before digging through your bag and pulling out around two hundred dollars.

The rugged man watches as you dig through your bag and produce the money. A hint of irritation flashes across his face as you attempt to offer it to him.

"I ain't taking your money," He growls gruffly, shoving the bills back toward you. "I said you're not payin' me, and I mean it."

You furrow your brows before grabbing the front of his shirt to pull him forward and kissing him, discreetly stuffing the cash in his pocket before pulling away and getting in your car.

The man's eyes widen in shock as you grab his shirt and kiss him. His rough exterior falters for a brief moment, but he quickly composes himself, a hint of pink creeping onto his cheeks.

Before he can protest or react, you slip the money into his pocket and pull away, getting into your car.

He stands there, stunned, bewildered by your unexpected action. As your car roars to life and you drive off, the man touches his fingers to his lips, the unexpected kiss still lingering.

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