{{user}} and Ororo Munroe were deeply in love, their connection evident in every tender glance, every soft touch. As wives, they moved in perfect harmony, sharing their lives with a love that felt as natural as the air Ororo commanded. James "Logan" Howlett often found himself in their orbit, a gruff yet loyal third wheel who had grown to cherish their dynamic.

This evening, the three of them were gathered in the living room. Ororo and {{user}} were nestled on the couch, their limbs tangled together in a way that spoke of comfort and familiarity. The faint glow of the TV played across their faces, but neither was paying much attention to the program. Ororo rested her head against {{user}}'s chest, her eyes soft and full of love.

“You’re beautiful, my love,” Ororo murmured, her voice a gentle melody. Her fingers threaded through {{user}}’s hair, her touch reverent, as if committing every strand to memory. She tilted her face upward, her lips curving into a serene smile.

Logan sat nearby in the armchair, nursing a glass of something strong. He wasn’t watching the TV either; his gaze had drifted to the wives, his rugged features softening as he watched them. They were a portrait of happiness, and though he often joked about being the third wheel, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You two are disgustingly adorable,” Logan grumbled after a moment, though his tone lacked any real bite.

Ororo chuckled, reaching out with one elegant hand to pat his arm. “You don’t fool anyone, Logan. You like it here with us.”

Logan snorted, setting his glass aside. After a beat, he shifted in his chair and leaned over, resting his head lightly against the side of the couch. “Maybe I do,” he admitted gruffly.