Various Array of One Shots ✔️

Bar Troubles >> Logan Howlett (Wolverine) X Reader

Title: Bar Troubles

Paring: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) X Reader

Warnings: slight violence

Spoilers: none. Just read up on the X-Men

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You kept quiet in your end of the bar, keeping to yourself under your hooded coat, slowly drinking a glass of something alcoholic, you weren't sure what it was. Quietly watching the shabby TV on the wall that barked news about 'mutants' and 'Hulk wrecks Harlem' and so on. But you were sure that when the door opened to the shabby tavern at twenty past ten, you knew your quiet time was over.

Another testosterone filled male was coming to hit on you.

How was it that no matter where you were, what you wore to disfigure your gender appearance from behind, you were always the one to be given a sleazy pickup line and an alcohol affected grin?

Sometimes they really amazed you, men - whatever happened to chivalry?

"You look stunning tonight, babe," the man said siding up to you at the very edge of the bar. "Bet you'll be even more when I take those clothes off you."

"Please, go away," you told him without looking up.

"Playing hard to get, well, that's sweet," the man laughed, and grabbed at your arm. You squirmed away, trying to break loose from his almost iron grip. "You won't be getting any of that from me tonight."

"Show a little respect, bub, she only came for a drink."

You stopped struggling to see who had spoken with the crisp Canadian accent, and nearly stopped breathing. He looked quite like an animal, really - hair wild and clothes a bit slap dash in care, plaids and leather, and a cigar half smoked in his toughened hands. You weren't sure if you liked the look of this guy compared to the other - they both looked like they were the type to jump at the opportunity for girls like you to succumb, but there was something with the accent that made you want to trust him.

"She your girl then?" the man released your arm and you writhed away from him, hoping where he had grabbed you wouldn't bruise.

"She just came for a quiet drink," the tough Canadian argued. "Didn't you?"

You nodded.

"Well, she's mine," the sleazy guy narrowed his eyes. "Stay away."

The tougher rolled his eyes, and took a deep breath of his cigar. You didn't like smoking or anything to do with it since your friend had died of lung cancer, so you turned your back to the smoke. But then you realised the man had blown the puff of smoke in the other direction.

You felt a hand graze your shoulders, and creep its way down toward your lower back and beyond.

"I'm not interested!" you told the guy, standing up. You were furious. "C'mon man, I sad back off!"

He laughed. "That's it, I like them -,"

He was interrupted by a punch to the jaw which might had fractured his skull, the sound of impact sounded different. You turned to see the tough Canadian guy there, and felt a smile creep up into your face slowly.

"Thanks," you breathed. "A lot. He was really making me feel..." You weren't sure how to put it. "Uncomfortable."

He nodded. "I'm Logan, by the way."

Your smile widened to pull more at the sides. "________," you introduced.

You watched as the sleazy guy got up slowly - only a drunken man could get up after that much of a blow - and launched himself at Logan.

But the craziest thing happened. Three metallic looking blades protruded from one hand of Logan's, and the other grabbed the man's collar and lifted him against the wall.

"Go home, bub," Logan growled, the blades at the man's throat. It was only then you felt slightly afraid. "You're drunk."

He let the sleazy guy go, and you watched as the blades retreated into his hands.

"Did he spike my drink or am I -," you gasped, frowning, "is this -," you closed your eyes. "No. This isn't real."

You heard a barstool beside you squeak, and opened your eyes to see Logan sitting on one on the other side of you.

"I scared you, didn't I?"

You nodded. "So it's real, then? All the media hype about..." You didn't want to say mutant as if it were a swear word or accusation. You felt tears in your eyes, and furiously wiped them away. Shock.

Logan nodded grimly. "Yep."

You looked to him and swallowed. "That kind of explains how I can do this, then..." You exhaled a breath smoothly, and made a noise through your mouth, a whistle. All of the glassware and cutlery and all not tied down inanimate objects behind the bar began to chime and dance and make a general din. Your whistle jumped a pitch, and they all exploded into a shower of glass.

"Neat trick, bub." Logan nodded. "I have a doctorate you can see about that," he stubbed his cigar under the bar ledge. "Professor Xavier."