Spoiled°•°•°

Idea of the scenario :

You're his spoiled princess.

The oneshot :

The Cookie Calamity

Logan sat in his leather armchair in the heart of his mansion's study, a place that exuded power with its dark wood paneling and walls lined with books no one had read.

He was reviewing shipment schedules, monitoring his empire with the precision of a man who had clawed his way to the top of the Mafia underworld. His black tailored suit was pristine, his cufflinks gleaming in the dim light of the room.

Everything about Logan screamed control, power and ruthlessness– except for one glaring exception.

His wife, [Y/n].

"LOGAN !"

The shrill cry tore through the silence like a siren. Logan froze, his pen hovering mid-signature. He glanced toward the double doors of his study, already bracing himself.

Then came the telltale thud-thud-thud of [Y/n]'s tiny feet stomping down the hallway.

The doors burst open with enough force to make his bodyguard, Marco, flinch from his post outside.

There she stood, framed by the heavy mahogany doors, a storm in pastel pink. Her fluffy dress flounced as she marched in, a now-empty cookie jar clutched in her small hands like it contained evidence of a crime against humanity.

"Logan !" She declared, slamming the jar onto his desk. Her big [e/c] eyes were wide with righteous fury, her glossy lips pushed into a pout that could have been classified as a weapon. "Where are my cookies ?"

Logan, who had faced down rival dons, assassins and federal agents without batting an eye, felt a flicker of panic. "I don't know, amore mio. Maybe you—"

"Don't you dare say I ate them all !" She snapped, jabbing a finger at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, did you ?"

"I only had 5 yesterday !" She huffed, stamping her foot for emphasis. "And there were 8 in the jar ! Now it's EMPTY. Someone stole them, Logan ! Stole them right out of our house. And you're just sitting here !"

He leaned back in his chair, his lips twitching as he tried not to smile. "[Y/n], tesoro, maybe the staff—"

"No !" She cut him off, her voice reaching a pitch that could shatter glass. "It's not about the cookies, Logan. It's about the principle ! This is an attack on my happiness ! My sovereignty !"

At that, Logan couldn't help it– he laughed. A deep, rumbling chuckle that made her pout deepen.

"This isn't funny !" She said, crossing her arms.

"You're right", he said, standing and rounding the desk. Towering over her, he tilted her chin up with one hand. "This is very serious. I'll launch a full investigation. Call in my top men."

"Good", she huffed, though she melted a little under his touch. "Because if I don't have cookies by tonight, I'm moving into the guest house."

"Don't threaten me, little princess", he murmured, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

She sniffled dramatically but allowed him to pull her into a hug.

────୨ৎ────

The Shopping Escapade

[Y/n]'s tantrums weren't limited to missing cookies.

A few days later, she had a new crisis– she absolutely needed new dresses. Logan, ever the indulgent husband (and a bit of a pushover for her), cleared his afternoon to take her downtown.

The boutique looked like it had been designed specifically for [Y/n]. The walls were painted in soft pinks and lavenders with racks of frilly, pastel dresses and shelves of matching accessories.

She gasped as they walked in, her hands clapping together in delight.

"Oh, Logan, isn't it just perfect ?" She squealed, twirling in the middle of the store.

"It's... pink", he said dryly, glancing around.

"It's heavenly", she corrected, darting toward the nearest rack.

For the next hour, Logan sat on a plush bench near the fitting rooms, his long legs sprawled out as he watched [Y/n] parade around in one dress after another.

"What about this one ?" She asked, spinning in a yellow number with a giant bow on the back.

"It's perfect", he replied.

"You said that about the last 3 !" She whined, sticking out her tongue.

"Because you look good in everything", he said simply.

[Y/n] blushed but quickly recovered. "Okay, I'll take this one, the lavender one, the blue one, and— oh ! The mint green one !"

The saleswoman, who had been nervously hovering nearby, cleared her throat. "Actually, Mrs. Goretti, the mint green dress has already been reserved."

(Don't ask where I found the last name, I just found it 💀.)

[Y/n] froze. "Reserved ?"

"Yes, ma'am. By another customer."

Logan, sensing the brewing storm, set down the espresso he'd been sipping.

"But I want it..." [Y/n] said, her voice dangerously soft.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's—"

"I WANT IT !!" She shouted, her foot stomping so hard that the saleswoman flinched.

(Usually I hate spoiled brats but— oh how I love being it myself.)

Logan stood, his towering frame making the room seem smaller. He placed a hand on [Y/n]'s hip, his voice calm but firm. "Fix it."

"Y-yes, Mr. Goretti", the saleswoman stammered, scurrying away.

[Y/n] turned to Logan, her pout replaced by a triumphant grin. "You're the best !"

He sighed, pulling her into his arms. "You're going to be the death of me."

────୨ৎ────

Home Sweet Chaos

That evening, [Y/n] was curled up on the massive couch in their living room, surrounded by shopping bags and munching on a fresh batch of cookies that Logan had personally ordered from a bakery.

She wore one of her new dresses– a pastel blue one with puffy sleeves– and looked entirely too pleased with herself.

Logan sat beside her, his tie loosened and his arm draped over the back of the couch.

"You know", he said, watching her nibble on a cookie, "most people would think you're spoiled."

She looked up at him, crumbs on her lips. "But you don't think that, right ?"

He smirked. "Of course not. I think you're insufferable."

She gasped, playfully swatting at him. "Take that back !"

"Make me", he teased, pulling her closer.

She tried to pout but it quickly turned into giggles as he  tickled her side.

Despite her tantrums, demands and general chaos, [Y/n] was the only person in the world who could make him laugh like that.

She was his light in a life full of shadows and no amount of missing cookies or shopping meltdowns could ever change that.

And deep down, she knew it too. "You love me", she whispered, snuggling against his chest.

"Hopelessly", he admitted, pressing a kiss to her hair.

────୨ৎ────

The Mischief Spiral

It started with something small. It always did. [Y/n], ever the mischievous sprite, had a knack for turning the mundane into chaos.

Logan had come home late that evening, shoulders tense from a day full of negotiation and bloodied threats.

All he wanted was a quiet dinner, a stiff drink and maybe [Y/n] curled up beside him as he dozed off.

But she had other plans.

The mansion was suspiciously quiet when he walked in which immediately put him on edge.

[Y/n]'s laughter or music was usually the background score of his home and the absence of noise made him uneasy. He loosened his tie as he entered the living room, only to freeze.

There she was, standing on the coffee table, her pastel lavender dress slightly askew, a can of whipped cream in one hand and a mischievous grin on her face.

Surrounding her on the floor were plates of desserts– cupcakes, cookies, slices of cake– all meticulously arranged like a royal banquet.

"[Y/n]", he said, his voice low and cautious, "what are you doing ?"

"I'm hosting a tea party !" She said brightly, gesturing to the chaos around her. "Isn't it cute ?"

Logan's eyes scanned the room. Their expensive Persian rug was littered with crumbs, the edge of a chocolate tart was smeared on the armrest of the couch, and there were suspicious splatters of whipped cream on the chandelier.

"Why is there whipped cream on the chandelier ?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She giggled. "Oh, that was an accident ! I wanted to see if I could spray it really high."

He sighed, his exhaustion deepening. "[Y/n], this is not cute. This is a mess."

Her smile faltered. "But it's fun..."

"For who ?" He asked, his voice sharper than usual.

[Y/n] blinked, clearly taken aback by his tone. She stepped off the table and looked up at him, her big eyes wide with surprise and a hint of hurt. "You're being mean."

"And you're being impossible", he countered, crossing his arms. "I had a long day, amore. I don't have the energy for this."

She pouted, her lower lip trembling in that way that usually made him cave. But this time, he stood firm. "No, don't give me that look. You're going to clean this up."

Her jaw dropped. "Me ? Clean ? But I'm—"

"I know, I know", he interrupted, his voice dry. " 'Too delicate to clean'. But you made this mess so you're going to fix it."

[Y/n] gasped like he'd just suggested she rob a bank. "That's not fair ! You never make me clean !"

"Exactly", he said, his voice firm but calm. "And maybe that's the problem."

She stared at him, utterly scandalized. For a moment, it seemed like she might argue but then her eyes narrowed.

"Fine", she said, crossing her arms. "I'll clean it. But I won't like it !"

He arched an eyebrow. "That's the point."

────୨ৎ────

The Cleanup Catastrophe

15 minutes later, Logan regretted everything.

[Y/n]'s idea of cleaning was... unconventional to say the least. She had started with good intentions, wiping the table with a damp cloth.

But then she'd decided the whipped cream was "too pretty to waste" and had started spraying it into her mouth.

When she tried to vacuum the crumbs off the rug, she somehow managed to knock over a vase, sending water and flowers everywhere.

"[Y/n] !" Logan barked from his spot on the couch.

"What ?" She asked, her voice muffled by the cupcake she was eating– while cleaning.

"You're making it worse !"

She shrugged, licking frosting off her fingers. "I'm trying my best."

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "[Y/n], stop. Just stop. Sit down."

"But—"

"Now."

Something in his tone made her obey. She plopped onto the couch beside him, her hands folded in her lap like a scolded child.

She glanced up at him through her lashes, her lip jutting out in a pout. "You're mad at me."

"I'm not mad", he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "I'm just tired. And you're..."

"Too much ?" She offered, her voice small.

He sighed, his frustration melting away as he looked at her. Even with frosting on her nose and crumbs in her hair, she was adorable. And she knew it.

"You're always too much", he said, pulling her into his lap despite her squeak of protest. "But you're mine. And that's why I put up with you."

Her pout turned into a sly smile. "You love putting up with me."

"Debatable", he teased, though his arms tightened around her.

She giggled, leaning her head against his chest. "I'm sorry for the mess. I just wanted to have fun."

"I know", he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. "But maybe next time, let's find a kind of fun that doesn't involve destroying the living room."

"Deal", she said sweetly.

Then, after a pause : "Does that mean I don't have to clean anymore ?"

"Don't push your luck."

[Y/n] pouted but the sparkle in her eyes told him she wasn't really upset.

She never was– not when Logan was there to kiss away her mischief and love her for all her chaos.

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

(A/n) : I was supposed to post that a few days before but was too lazy so here before the new year start. See ya ! 🤗