X-Men Oneshots

Dance Partner (Logan Howlett)

The grand ballroom glittered with chandeliers and the soft murmur of conversation, a stark contrast to the chaos Logan was used to. He wasn't one for formal events, much less tuxedos and mingling with the wealthy elite. But for her, he'd endure anything.

Logan leaned against the wall, nursing a whiskey as his eyes tracked Y/N across the room. She looked stunning in a midnight-blue gown that hugged her curves, her hair pinned up elegantly, exposing her neck and shoulders. She had been laughing with some bigwig about God knows what, her smile lighting up the room. It was a sight that made Logan's chest tighten, the possessive side of him stirring beneath the surface.

Logan wasn't the jealous type. At least, that's what he told himself. But when some pretty boy in a crisp suit approached Y/N and asked for a dance, something snapped inside him.

She hesitated, glancing in Logan's direction as if silently asking for permission. His jaw tightened, but he gave her a curt nod, not trusting himself to speak. Y/N offered him a small, reassuring smile before accepting the man's outstretched hand. Logan watched as she was led to the center of the ballroom.

As they began to dance, Logan's hands clenched into fists. The guy was too close, his hand resting on Y/N's waist, fingers splayed a little too wide. Y/N was smiling, her cheeks flushed as they glided across the floor.

Logan's growl rumbled low in his throat, drawing a few glances from nearby guests. He didn't care. His eyes never left Y/N, tension coiling tighter inside him with every spin, every laugh she gave that man. He should be the one holding her, spinning her, making her laugh. Not this asshole.

When the music finally ended and Y/N curtsied politely, Logan was on his feet before she could return to him. He cut through the crowd, his eyes locked on her as she said her goodbyes to her dance partner.

"Logan?" Y/N's voice was soft, curious as he reached her, taking her by the arm with a firm but gentle grip.

"We need to talk," he muttered, guiding her toward a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from prying eyes.

She looked up at him, brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on?"

He didn't answer right away, his gaze intense as he stared down at her. "I didn't like watchin' you dance with him," Logan finally admitted, voice low, almost a growl. "Didn't like seein' his hands on you."

Y/N blinked, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. "Logan, it was just a dance."

"Yeah, well, it didn't feel like 'just a dance' to me," Logan said, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. "I've never been good at sharin', darlin'. And I ain't about to start now."

Her breath hitched at the possessive edge in his voice. She knew Logan cared for her—he had always been protective—but this was different. The heat in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine, making her pulse quicken.

"You're jealous," she murmured, a hint of surprise in her voice.

Logan's eyes darkened. "Damn right I'm jealous."

Before Y/N could respond, Logan's hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His other hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back slightly so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he rasped, his breath warm against her lips. "Seein' you with someone else, touchin' you, even if it's just a dance, drives me crazy."

Y/N's lips parted, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared up at him. The intensity in his voice, the raw need in his eyes—it was overwhelming.

"I'm yours, Logan," she whispered, her hands sliding up his chest. "You don't need to be jealous."

Logan's grip tightened for a moment, his eyes flickering with something primal before he crashed his lips against hers. The kiss was rough, possessive, and filled with all the unspoken desire he'd been holding back. Y/N melted into him, her fingers curling into his shirt as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

The world around them disappeared as Logan's hands roamed her body, his touch igniting every nerve. The ballroom, the music, the people—it all faded into the background as their kiss deepened, hot and breathless.

When they finally broke apart, Y/N was panting, her lips swollen from the force of his kiss. Logan rested his forehead against hers, his breathing just as ragged.

"You're mine," he growled, his hands still gripping her tightly. "And no one else is gonna forget that."

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at the possessiveness in his voice. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Logan smirked, brushing a thumb over her lower lip. "Good. Now, let's finish this dance."

Without waiting for a response, Logan pulled her back to the center of the ballroom, holding her close as they swayed to the slow, rhythmic music. This time, there was no room for anyone else. It was just them—two hearts beating in sync, the tension from before dissolving into something far more intimate, far more powerful.

And as Logan held her, his hand firm on her waist, his lips brushing her temple, Y/N knew that there would never be anyone else who could make her feel the way he did.

She was his, just as much as he was hers.

And that was all that mattered.