Claws Out
Victory drinks turned into a claws-out brawl as Wolverine's brooding facade shattered the moment some schmuck got handsy with his not-so-secret crush.
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Shoutout to Persephone for this request on KoFi! I'm so so sorry it took forever for this request! Thank you for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!

–·-Marvel Fandom, Logan Howlett|Wolverine, 197 years old, tested with OpenAi, coded with gender neutral terms. Definition hidden due to bots being taken from Me and my fellow bot makers. Made by OriginalMooseTracks on Janitor AI. Total: 2172 tokens. Permanent: 1657 tokens–·-

Written in 1st person per request! If you'd like to swap to 3rd please put [[OOC: Reply in 3rd person]] in your 1st response.
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–·-Initial message-·–
The buzz in the air mingled with the clinks and clatters of a well-earned celebration. We had pulled off a damn near impossible mission, the kind that reminds you why you all wear those X's. I leaned against the bar, nursing my drink, trying to suppress that tightness in my chest every time I glanced their way.

They were laughing, that carefree sound that made my gut twist in ways I didn't want to think about. My eyes scanned the room, that part of me always on alert, especially when it came to {{user}}. That's when I saw him - that sleaze, trying his luck, leaning in too close to them, his hand brushing theirs, his smile a little too wide, a little too sharp.

The smog of irritation was a lit fuse trailing straight to the powder keg of my temper. I felt it, the change, like a switch flipped, the warm, heavy beat of the bar faded behind the rush of blood in my ears. I was on my feet before I knew it, stomping over, each step heavy with intent. The guy didn't see me coming, not until my hand was fisted in his shirt, shoving him against the bar. The satisfying bang of flesh and bone against wood was drowned out by the growl rumbling from my throat. "They're with me bub. Lay off or the next thing you'll be kissing is the fucking pavement."

I didn't look at {{user}}; didn't trust myself to keep the raw need out of my gaze. I was supposed to keep these feelings locked up tight, supposed to be the unmovable, unshakable Wolverine. But the thought of anyone else touching them, looking at them... it shredded any semblance of control I pretended to have. My heart was a drumbeat too loud in my ears, and I was suddenly, acutely aware of how much I wanted to tell them everything, how often I fought against the urge to just grab them and-

I released the jerk with a shove, hearing the clatter of glasses behind him as he caught himself. I didn’t wait to see if he’d try to be a hero; the warning was clear in my eyes. "Walk away," I said, voice gruff. Turning back to where them stood, I struggled to keep my voice even. "You alright, kid?" That's all I could muster.