#jimmy and the forest animals

[paper-starz]

S-M-I-L-E Everyday!

OH THESE WERE SO FUN TO DESSSIGNNNN!! AAAA THEYRE MORE 80s NOWWWWW

Ehehehe catnap comes with his own lil nightcap and pillow!!

Lore below!

The Smiling Critters were Playtime Co.'s most popular, if not most well-known toyline ever produced in the factory. First appearing on greeting cards in the late 1970s, they were suggested to Playtime Co. in 1981 by the chief of marketing, Jimmy Roth, to turn these beloved greeting card characters into lovable, huggable toys. This suggestion then became a reality after Playtime Co. produced the first ever Smiling Critter plushies in 1983.

In the summer of that same year, the Smiling Critters took the world by storm. From selling their own books and magazines, to even debuting on television with specials like “The Smiling Critters and the Forest of Frowns.” and “The Smiling Critters’ Winter Wonderland.”

By 1985, not only did the Smiling Critters receive a TV series that aired for 4 years, but they had theatrical releases that became the highest-grossing animated film at the time of its release.

By 1983 to 1987, the Smiling Critters sold over 60 million plushies and gained over 3 billion dollars in sales during the 80s. With such a commercial success, Playtime Co. introduced 2 of the most popular Smiling Critters, Dogday and Catnap, into Playtime Park in 1985!

When asked why they didn’t just introduce the entire cast of critters, Leith Pierre, head of innovation at Playtime Co. responded with “Well, introducing all of these toys at once might overwhelm our staff and our guests. Both of these toys are one of our newest and most experimental creations, so, if everything goes well, then we do have plans of releasing the rest of the Smiling Critters into Playtime Park. However, our guests’ safety and happiness is our utmost concern here at Playtime Co., and we prioritize that above all else.”

The two critters each had their own little place to take care of. Dogday, being the leader of the Smiling Critters, was in charge of watching the younger guests and making sure everyone was having a great time at the park. Catnap, on the other hand, was in charge of Home Sweet Home, a quaint little area built for kids and parents who just need some time to relax and take a break from all of the ruckus at the park. Home Sweet Home has many beds for little ones to rest and even quiet activities such as drawing and reading for kids and people to enjoy (and with such affordable pricing, who could ever say no?) Catnap can even read to the little ones and for those who have trouble sleeping, Catnap comes equipped with Playtime Co.’s “Sleepy Lavender Scent” to help you relax (guaranteed to knock even the most hyperactive of kids right out!!)

However, not everything was all sunshine and rainbows as tragedy struck in mid 1989. There was a factory error where all of the “Sleepy Lavender Scent” cans for the Catnap plushies were instead replaced with Poppy gas, making kids who owned this factory error experience vivid hallucinations, excessive sleep, and even nightmares. While all of the toys were recalled, this error followed them to Playtime Park, where Catnap was given that same gas. The Home Sweet Home incident occurred in 1989, devastating the Smiling Critters’ reputation. Because of these controversies, the Catnap toy was pulled from the lineup and all promotional material afterwards, and Playtime Park decommissioned Catnap soon after.

Since then, Playtime Co. has done its best to try and repair the Smiling Critters reputation, with Playtime Co. issuing an apology statement the following week. Currently, while the Smiling Critters are still sold in toy stores, they will never reach the popularity they once had in the 80s.

[ooooo-mcyt]

To expand on how Lizzie is sacrificial lamb coded to me:

To me it's about how violence against Lizzie is often impersonal, removed from her, for the benefit of someone else, or for some symbolic gain. The sacrificial lamb, killed for meat or ritually to purify.

For starters, all four of Lizzie's deaths in Last Life.

Her first death immediately reads as very ritualistic. Lured into the dark by Joel to satisfy the curse infecting him. Joel fails to collect the reward from it, but when his axe can't finish the job, the universe itself deals that final blow via the zombie, clean and wrapped up with the death of the sacrifice, even if no benefit is gained from it.

Her next two deaths can be seen as a continuation of the previous, even if it happens later on in the series. Joel once again targets her to satiate the curse, and this time he does manage to finish the job with his axe. It only takes one shot, and is done silently, a quick slaughter she has no time to react to or fight. Next she's killed by Jimmy, the only difference being that he uses a pit of lava to burn her instead of using an axe.

And then Lizzie's final death in Last Life, which may be the most obvious example within the season. Lizzie is killed by Bdubs as part of a test. It has nothing to do with her (not that any of her deaths really did), her death was performed entirely for Bdubs' absolution. To purify him of the distrust the greens had in him. Lizzie had no room to fight, no way to see it coming- there was nothing she could do, because it had nothing to do with her. She was just the sacrifice to fulfill the deal Bdubs made.

It's not just her death's either. Look at the burning of the fairy fort. Of course, she wasn't the only target of this act, nor was she innocent. But the point still stands. BigB killed Cleo, not Lizzie, and yet it was Lizzie's forest that burned to ash under the cleansing flames of retribution (this is especially applicable if you consider how cleo and lizzie's alliance was built partially on fear in the first place, how lizzie felt like prey under cleo's gaze, how cleo threatened lizzie with cleansing fire within their first conversations on the server)

You see as well in Secret Life, how impersonal her deaths were.

Nudged down a slide and shot at the bottom, killed in one hit. Struck out of nowhere with little reason while invisible. And finally thrown off a ledge while trying to complete someone else's task.

Her final death is particularly noteworthy for how it interacts with the Canary Curse. The moment Lizzie died for the final time, it was the completion of a ritual, it was the freedom of the canary. Instead of being mourned, Lizzie's death was celebrated by Jimmy and those who wanted him freed. Lizzie's death was not about her at all, but rather an act of freedom for another person, which Lizzie was symbolically sacrificed to facilitate.

After death, Lizzie was used for the benefit of others as well. Her home was raided, her items used for the survival of others, and later on her body (*or at least, something representing her body) was dug up to be traded for an advantage by the man who would go on to win the season.

Then finally you have Wild Life.

First, Lizzie is killed by Skizz. By his own admission, it had nothing to do with Lizzie. She wasn't the point, it just as well could have been a literal sacrificial animal. Skizz simply needed a life, so Lizzie was killed quickly and impersonally. It was the same with Lizzie's next death to a creeper, also placed by Skizz. A few episodes later, she's killed by Jimmy for time, and, while this was something she agreed to (for once), it was still a clear example of Lizzie acting as a sacrifice. Later in that same episode she falls into a trap placed by BigB, not personally laid by her, but once again, impersonally, for anyone.

And then for her final death in Wild Life, Lizzie was collateral damage. A necessary casualty in Grian's grudge against Jimmy. Grian doesn't even address Lizzie directly, speaking only to Jimmy before killing them both, as if Lizzie wasn't even present, as if her death didn't mean a thing. It's fascinating as well that, for this death, not only did it have nothing to do with Lizzie, and not only did she have no chance to fight it or see it coming (as with all her final deaths), but Lizzie was also, literally, voiceless (because of trivia bot robot voice) in this scene.

So yeah. You could say I'm pretty Normal about Lizzie.

[fear-is-truth]

❛ WHAT YOUR FAVOURITE EVAN PETERS CHARACTER SAYS ABOUT YOU ❜

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ austin sommers ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel ೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 𝗢𝟭 ⠀ᰋ

꣑ৎ ‎ :‎ masterlist﹒request / chat w me ! ﹒꒱ note. this just for funsies—i don’t mean to offend anyone

────୨ৎ────

TATE LANGDON:

your taste in music & fashion is fire.

apart from the murder house, you probably wanna live in the pink palace from coraline.

you might be interested in true crime.

not sure if you’ve watched zero day (2003) but if you have, pretty sure you’d fw cal gabriel too. or not.

deadpan sarcasm.

haunted porcelain doll vibes.

you enjoy movies like coraline, donnie darko and everything directed by tim burton.

bright but hate school.

you don’t have the best relationship with your parent(s). :((

autumn is your fav season.

ben harmon hater (aren’t we all)

hobbies: thrifting, art, vinyl collecting, taxidermy, poetry, photography.

you spend too much time searching for violet harmon exacts online. (i hope you find the one you want at a fairly reasonable price)

────୨ৎ────

KIT WALKER

the Mom Friend™ of the group.

free spirited and has a heart of pure gold.

you cry at movies that tug at your heartstrings.

more of a dog person than a cat person.

your cooking is probably wicked good.

running barefoot on a grassy hill.

until i found you by stephen sanchez is basically about you and your guy.

you like animal crossing or stardew valley.

cozy aesthetic. embroidered pillowcases, half-buttoned henleys, a fridge covered in little notes and polaroids, herb garden, clean laundry that smells like sunlight.

────୨ৎ────

KYLE SPENCER

you have great taste in guys. he’s not just a ‘green flag’ he’s a goddamn forest. in a world of boys he’s a gentleman.

hopeless romantic.

your love language is quality time.

activities i imagine you doing with your ‘kyle’: walk on the beach, ice skating, trying out new cafés or bakeries, drive-in movies, boardwalk (he wins you the giant stuffed animal you’ve been eyeing), build-a-bear, baking cookies, feeding ducks at the park.

belle is your favourite disney princess.

your hogwarts house is probably ravenclaw.

you’re kind of an introvert.

pinterest whore <3

light academia + soft girl aesthetic. white button-ups, bows/ ribbons in your hair, love letters with lipstick kisses, varsity jackets that belong to your bf, iced matcha. spring.

you collect sanrio plushies and seashells.

you listen to gracie abrams, taylor swift (especially lover AND evermore)

you like the summer i turned pretty and/or to all the boys i loved before. and probably jane austen.

────୨ৎ────

JIMMY DARLING

you’re outspoken and a total badass.

did i mention that you’re super sexy?

your hogwarts house is probably gryffindor.

trinket collector!!

the first thing you notice about a person is their smile. bonus if they have dimples.

you have a thing for men in leather jackets.

your fav movies include the outsiders, stand by me, top gun.

you like stevie nicks.

────୨ৎ────

JAMES PATRICK MARCH

pretty sure at least one of your fictional crushes is a vampire.

you want to be worshipped like a goddess—as you should !!

you like quotes that romanticise cannibalism as a metaphor for intimacy.

you listen to lady gaga.

slytherin. no questions asked.

BLOOD !!!!! gallons of the stuff-

you’re turned on by etiquette, quoting shakespeare, men/women covered in blood, a velvet gloved hand tilting your chin up, a sexy accent.

you’ve probably reblogged one of the following aesthetics on your blog: dark red. blood. wine. pomegranates. daggers. long flowing white nightgowns. vampires.

────୨ৎ────

KAI ANDERSON

questionable taste but i totally get you.

you listen to lana del rey, ethel cain or nicole dollanganger.

your hogwarts house is 99% slytherin.

at least one of your male celeb crushes is considered ‘problematic’.

“…. but he’s hot though.”

plagued with paranoid thoughts.

you have more knowledge about the manson family than the average person.

you are the divine convergence of self-awareness, shame, and delusion.

you either dissociate OR overanalyse until you wanna put your head through the fucking wall.

you can easily see through gaslighting because you’re kind of a pro yourself.

addicted to pepsi and chicken tenders.

you probably enjoy films like buffalo ‘66, american psycho, natural born killers.

────୨ৎ────

AUSTIN SOMMERS

you grew up very precocious, clever, and a little too sassy.

you’re probably bisexual.

very artistic soul.

brooklyn baby by lana del rey is about you.

low tolerance for mediocrity. you want genius or nothing.

you can flirt your way out of messy situations; but it’s the flirting that got you into trouble in the first place.

platonic flirting with your friends.

you have immaculate taste in a everything—art, literature, cinema, fashion.

you analyse everything. so you are likely an avid user of letterboxd or goodreads.

────୨ৎ────

PETER MAXIMOFF

you use humour as a coping mechanism.

your playlists have no cohesion but every song is a banger.

you prefer wire headphones rather than wireless ones.

your sleep schedule is totally fucked.

sporty.

the most loyal person in the world.

keychain hoarder.

you have a huge sweet tooth.

funky socks and graphic tees.

love love LOVE video games.

probably the type of person to fall in love with your best friend.

────୨ৎ────

COLIN ZABEL

you’re gentle with others but brutal with yourself.

a professional yearner.

cat person, bookworm or film buff. or maybe all of the above.

have a little people-pleaser streak that you’re trying to unlearn.

chronically self-effacing. if someone compliments you, you’ll either make a joke or downplay it.

generally soft spoken and introverted but you have some wildly funny/ inappropriate thoughts going on in that head of yours. (i mean this in a good way)

great sense of humour.

your (fictional) crushes gravitate towards slightly awkward men with good intentions and deep emotional wound.

you probably like the show fargo.

you say “sorry” way too often. i mean like if you bump into furniture you’d prolly apologise.

[hidden-poet]

Animal

Synopsis: After visiting a bathhouse Logan meets you, and the animal within him starts clawing out.

Warnings: not canon, dark!, non-con, a little bit of romantisation of things that should not be romanticized, kidnapping, Dark!logan(jimmy? james?), dom/sub vibes, spanking, female reader who is described quite a bit, rough sex, graphic sex, basically born with little plot, unedited and written in a couple of hours, dead dove to not eat.

AN: Something awoken within me. I never really cared for Wolverine, but suddenly I am binging all the movies. I don't really understand them so this will definitely not make sense to those who follow the fandom.

Word count: 12, 418

Part 2

Logan walks through the city. People part as he storms through the path. Hearing the sound of his heavy boots as they thud against the concrete. 

If his large frame wasn’t enough to warn off people, his scowl was. He didn’t even know what city he was in. Xavier sends him off to eliminate out of control mutants. Given the urgency, he is often sent without a goodbye, let alone a debrief. 

He knew he was somewhere foreign. All the signs were in a different language with the english translation printed small underneath. 

One of them read ‘bathhouse’ in bright red neon sign. He looks at the dirt caked under his nails. The final battle with the latest mutant took place in the forest. 

He could feel small leaves in his hair, and dried mud clinging to his body. 

A nice, hot, relaxing bath may elevate some of the tension he always carried with him, so he walks up the steps into the large stone building. 

A lady in a robe greets him. The place is dark, only lit by a few strategically placed lamps. The front counter is placed in the entryway to the baths, and is sectioned by a large maroon colored wall that offers the men bathing privacy. 

“How can I help you?” the woman asks.

“I’d like a bath”, he responds. His eyes go to view the bath that beckons him. 

“Communal or private?”.

Logan looks around at the men in towels, lounging by the large pool. An elderly man takes off his towel to reveal nothing underneath, and steps into the steaming water. 

“Private”, Logan answers, “please”.

She gives him a sly smile, asking him to follow her. 

He is brought along the pool where men swam nude, and women who wore thick robes served them drinks, and cigars. 

At the back of the communal bathing area there was a long stretch of red doors that were numbered in large golden letters. He follows her to door seven

The woman knocks on the door once before turning back to logan. 

“Just through this door when you are ready”. With a sly smile she looks him up and down before returning to her hosting station. 

“Ah-yeah, thanks”, he comments. 

Muttering under his breath, he twists the door knob and takes a step inside, wanting nothing more than to wash away his adventure. 

His hand clinches the door knob, his claws begging to come out upon hearing someone on the other side. 

Had someone been following him? Another mutant, buddies with the one he had killed?

He lunges through the door, ready to face anyone willing. It startles him when he sees a young girl. 

Your hair was blown out to give it volume, and styled in an effortlessly curled way. Your dress was short and black. The halter neck tied together behind your long neck, and was cut down to the middle of your chest. The thin material only reached your upper thigh. Your lipstick was a dark red, matching your pointed shoes. You looked ready for a club, not a bath. 

You push yourself back into a chest of draws, surprised at his entrance. 

“shit”, Logan turns from you, training his eyes to the ground. It felt wrong to look at you. “Sorry, i was told to come in here”. 

“You were told correctly”, you state, “I am ready for you”. 

Your voice was low and seductive, making Logan hard under his jeans.

“Ready for me?” Logan questions. He feels his brows furrow, the sweat that he had accumulated started to run down his forehead. 

“This is a bathhouse”,you state, “You got a private room. You get bathed in private rooms”. 

You seemed as confused as he was. 

He looks at you stunned. His cock ached in his jeans to think of you bathing him. But you were young. Young, pretty, and naive. What were you doing here, giving baths to dirty old men like him. He couldn’t have it. Couldn’t be a part of it. 

His other side begged him to have a bath, and enjoy your touch, but he didn’t want to do anything that he would regret. The animal side of him was hard to contain. He was sure you would pull the wrong string, and the restraint he had built would come undone. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to bid you goodbye. All his will power went to turning back to the door. 

“Wait” you call out. He freezes immediately, and looks over his shoulder at you. 

“Is there something wrong with me?” you ask. His heart sunk at your question. He didn’t mean to offend you. 

“Am I not desirable enough for you?”, you continue. 

“God, no” he states, shutting the door firmly behind him as he turns. He didn’t want anyone passing to see you through the door. “No, you’re anything but undesirable”.

You blush but remain in your seductive composure. Your hand waves him forward, and his feet shuffle to your command. 

“Well then stay. If they see you walk out, i’ll get in trouble. Men start walking out of my bathhouse, and they might turf me”, you state. 

“Look, baby, I am just looking for a bath,” you eye the water so he continues to explain, “a bath alone. Without the help of a young woman, no matter how they look”.

“You don’t seem the nervous kind”, you provoke. 

“I ain’t” he defends. 

“How about this, I won’t look”. You spin around and face the wall, covering your eyes with your hand. “You can take a bath without my help, and I won’t get fired. Win, win”. 

He thinks about it. With you facing away, and not touching him, what harm could be done? He would be doing you a favor. 

“You sure you can restrain yourself?” he flirts. 

Your giggle echoes off the wall to his ear. 

“I am sure”.

Logan strips, leaving his clothes on the tiled floor, and entering the marble tub centered in the room. The water is steaming, and works to unknot his mussels. 

He moans as he sinks into the water. 

“Feel good?”, you ask. 

His cock twitches at your words. He struggles to keep his voice even as he answers. 

“Yeah”. 

“I am y/n”, you comment, bringing your hand down to face the red wall. 

“Is that your real name?”, he asks. He shouldn’t care what your real name was, but he did. 

“Yeah”, you respond. He listens for your heart beat as you answer. It never falters so it was the truth, or a lie that had become the truth. Either way it was good enough for him. 

“Logan”, he gives. 

“In town for business or pleasure, Logan?”, you ask. 

Your butt was three inches from the bottom of your dress. It curved around the material. Logan wanted to jump up from the water, and bite into it. 

“Business” he answered absentmindedly. He forces himself to look away and up to the ceiling. 

Your heartbeat was even. You weren’t scared of him. It comforted him to know. 

“What do you do?”. The question irked him. 

“Nothing good”, he spat. 

You let out a breathy laugh as if he had told a bad joke.

“Men who do ‘nothing good’ aren’t afraid of young women in bathhouses”, you jest. 

“Well I suppose I do bad things for a good cause”, he admits. 

Although it never felt like a good cause. Only some of the mutants he killed deserved it. Most of them were only confused and scared. They were too dangerous to be allowed a second chance at reasoning. Like a wild dog, they had to be put down. 

It would have made Logan feel better if he didn’t enjoy the fight. 

“What bad things for a good cause?”. 

Logan slides further into the water, trying to shield himself from your questioning. 

‘Is this a bathhouse or a police station?” he bit. His voice was hard, and carried a commanding tone that made your heart skip. 

He wanted to apologize, but you beat him to it. 

“I am sorry. I am not used to talking to the clients. I overstepped”,  you confess. 

 “Have you worked here long?”. 

He wanted to turn the attention back on you, but he chose the wrong path. The last thing he wanted to hear was you admitting to washing men.

The image of you bathing other old men angered him. His claws dug through the bones in his hand, itching to come to the surface. 

“A year”. It seemed like you were content in your workplace, but Logan fights to keep his claws under his skin. He splashed his hands under the water, worried that you would turn and see him in his mutated state. 

You shuffle slightly, angling yourself so you were always turned to him. You move off the wall, back over to the door. Logan watches you, his body shifting to hide himself if you decide to look. His member was hard under the clear water. He didn’t want you to think he was some sort of pervert. 

“Hey”, he calls, watching you move to pick up his clothes. Your hand shielded your eyes to him in the tub, “What are you doing?”. 

You separate his room key, wallet from his jean pocket and place them next to his shoes before picking up his clothes, and turning your back once more. Moving to the far wall where a washer and dryer were stored under a sink. 

“It’s part of the service. I wash your clothes for you”, you state. 

“Just leave them” he commands, “they are fine”.

You ignore him, throwing the clothes in the machine, and starting the cycle. 

“You’re paying for it”. 

You crouch in your high heels as you dispense the detergent into the washing machine on the floor before rising back up, but you don’t turn. Talking to him through the shared space rather than at him. 

“Do you mind if I sit at the vanity?”, you ask him. 

“No. Sit where you are comfortable”.

Your eyes train at the walls of the room as you slide along to the vanity set in the corner. You stop just before you get to the mirror, and kick off your heels so you could drag the seat with your foot over to you. You sat facing the wall like a child on time-out. 

He notices without your shoes, you were quite small. A small, pretty thing in a house of old men who wouldn’t need to be twice your size to overpower you. It didn’t sit right with logan. 

“So, how did you end up here?” he asks. 

“What this, a bath house or a police station”, you joke. 

He stifles a laugh. He didn’t mind a bit of cheek. 

“Fair enough’’, he relents, “Just tell me if any of these old guys ever caused you any trouble?”. 

Just as he claws retreat, they shoot back again. If your answer was yes, he was going to find out who, and where after his bath. 

But you shake your head no. 

“We have a button that calls for help. As soon as I get a bad feeling I press the button and they are thrown out”. 

You were intuitive like him. He wondered if it was a survival technique you were forced to pick up. He wanted to know why, but knew it was none of his business. 

Instead, he picks up a cloth and runs the cooling water over his skin. He was right, mud stuck to his chest hairs, along with dried blood. 

“You, uh, press that button a lot?” he pries. 

“Enough times to know when I should”. Your voice had lost its seductive tone as it hardened. 

“Maybe you should quit. Do something else”, he suggests. 

He would love for you to do something else. Something outside of harm's way. You were a grown woman who could decide what she wanted. He had no right to tell you what to do, but he wanted you to listen to him.

“Only one of us hates their job”. 

“You like this?”, his voice came out too angry. Your heart skipped another beat as he raised his voice at you. 

“You like touching dirty old men? Help them get off?”, he bites his tongue to the point of blood to stop himself talking to you this way.  

“No one gets off. I bathe them and send them on their way. Most of them are just lonely”.

“Lonely”, Logan scoffs, pushing the water away from him. But you were right. Logan was lonely. A dirty, old, lonely man wanting to taste your young flesh. 

How many other dirty, old, lonely men wanted to do the same? How many times would you be able to get to the button to press for help before it was too late? 

He wanted to protect you. To have his place in protecting you. Something about you drew him in. The animal called for him to throw you over his shoulder, and take you from his place in all his stark naked glory. But you were no one to him. He had only met you by mistake five minutes ago. 

Your heart rate was too fast. He had succeeded in scaring you. If his clothes weren’t washing, he was sure you would have kicked him out. 

He sighs, bringing his hands to the side of the tub. 

“Darl, I am sorry. I just hate to think of a pretty young thing like you here without anyone looking out for you”.

“I look out for me, Logan”, you declare. 

He nods his head, almost in disbelief. He rests the back of his head against the hard marble, causing the water to swish as he moves. 

“There’s shampoo on the caddy. You should wash your hair. I noticed that some of it was stuck together”, you comment. 

He was thrown across the forest floor just last night. He must have taken a harder hit than he realized. 

“I can do it if you want?”, you offer. 

“No. No. You stay right there” he demands. His hands itched to pull you in the bathtub with him. He wanted you to stay as far away as possible. 

As he squirts the small bottle of shampoo into his hands, the washing machine rings out a tune to signal it was done. 

“I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer” you declare. 

He watches as you move again over to the machine, and kneel to transfer the clothes into the dryer.  

Your bare feet make a nice sound against the tiles. Logan notices that your little toes were painted a dark red, and your fingers were perfectly shaped and painted the same color. 

He supposed a woman of your profession, maintenance was important. He pretended for a second that wasn’t the case. That instead, you were his little woman. 

He had come home after a long day of lumberjacking like he used to do, and you were fussing over him. The thought remained only for a second before he shook it off. 

Everyone he loved died. A little thing like you didn’t stand a chance in his life. 

“I hope you like the scent of vanilla”, you remark. 

He grunts in response, dipping under the water to wash the shampoo out of his hair. It felt lighter as a rose from the water. It was due for a good wash. 

He begins with a conditioner while he watches you lean against the counter of the sink instead of returning to your seat. His fingers dug into his scalp, pushing the liquid into his hair. 

“Do you have a girlfriend? Is that why you don’t want me to look?”, you ask. 

“No girlfriend. No wife. No dog”, he washes the soap from his hands, “I honestly didn’t know what I was signing up for”.

“Are you glad you signed up for it?”, your seductive tone returned from its disappearance. 

“The view has been nice”, he returns. 

“If you like my back, you should my front”. 

His hands curled into fists. If anything had been in his hands, it would have been snapped in two. 

“If i see your front, you might not see the light of day again”. 

His eyes shut in rhythm with your heart skipping. 

“Fuck. no. I didn’t mean” he began to justify but had nowhere to go. He had meant what he said, the way he said it. 

“All this talk of protection from dirty, old men. Did you mean you?”.

Your voice didn’t sound scared, but your heart beat faster than it had all night. 

Logan rises from the tub with conditioner still weighing down his hair. 

“Look, how long until my clothes are ready?”.

“Ten minutes”, you answer.  

He couldn’t wait ten minutes. He had to leave now.

“Just give them to me”, he demands. 

“There's still ten minutes”, you complain. 

“Give them to me, now!” his voice rose at you once more. 

You jump as he yelled at you, quickly moving to pull the wet clothes from the machine and throw them backwards towards him. 

They don’t go far enough from you and Logan is forced to get too close for his liking to dress himself. 

He pulls his wet shirt on himself, the long sleeves stick to his skin as he yanks it on. 

“Keep facing forward. Don’t turn around”, he orders. 

“But” you begin. He can see you slow movement to turn around so he gently shoves you in the right direction. 

“Listen to me. Face the wall”. His voice was angry again, commanding you to stay still. 

The jeans didn’t want to go on wet. With his harsh, and quick movements it felt like he was in a fight. He does eventually get them on, only bothering to do up his button and not his zip. 

He doesn’t bother putting on his socks. Keeping them in his hand while he picks up his wallet, shoes, and keys from the floor. 

The jiggling of the keys gives way to his plan of escape. 

“You still have fifteen minutes”, you state not moving from your position on the wall.

He wondered why you cared that he was leaving early. Did you not want him to get away from you? Or where you wondered about his reaction if he found out he was cut short?

“It doesn’t matter”, he barks as he makes a quick bee line to the door. 

He pauses once he reaches it. The water pools at his feet as he turns to look at you once more. 

“I am sorry” he comments. 

He races back down towards the door he came in through. Everybody stares at his dripping state. Some men laugh quietly among themselves. He could still hear your elevated heart beat in room seven. 

“Hey! Hey!” a voice calls behind him. 

In his agitated state he was ready to rip their head off. He turns to do it to see the lady who greeted him. 

“You still pay full price”, she demands. 

“Huh? Yeah”. He steamrolled over her to the counter, pulling out his wallet. 

His focus turns to the hallway expecting you to appear, but from what he could see your door never opened. 

He taps his bank card without looking at the price. Xavier kept him comfortable for his work. 

He leaves without approval, bumping back into the crowd of people as he makes his way back on the path. 

Soaking wet, and barefoot, he makes his way back to his small apartment. 

His claws dig underneath his skin, wanting to come out despite there being no threat. He fails to make it to the bed, laying on the carpet floor instead. 

Your name repeats in his mind. 

—---------------------------

He tries to forget you for the next three days. He was supposed to be back by now, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. 

Xavier called him every hour to be sent straight to voicemail. 

Logan walked the city, often finding himself walking along the front of the bathhouse. He never goes in, but listens for your voice, and breathes deep to smell your faint scent.

You didn’t talk much to your clients. A few flirty comments when they first arrived, but then silence as you completed your work. 

You didn’t talk to them like you talked to him, and that had to mean something. 

The worst part was not knowing exactly what you were doing. He loved to hear the beeping of the machine as you pressed the buttons, because at least that meant you weren’t touching them. 

Even in his best efforts he couldn’t manage to walk away. He knows he should. There were plenty of other mutants that needed to be put down. 

He should continue with his life, and you yours. 

He couldn’t keep you. He could barely keep the kids at the mansion alive, and they all had powers to protect themselves. 

He would be throwing you in the line of fire. A fire that he might not be able to protect you from. 

You would grow old too. Unless he could figure out a way to keep you young. Could Xavier know of a way? He was sure that he could protect you from everything but time. He would need some help. A connection to someone who could slow down time in adjacent to him. 

He grunts as he drives his claw into his right thigh. He lets out a painful laugh as he pounds his fist into the brink building he was hiding behind. 

The brick crumbled under his fist. A reminder of what he could do to you without even intending it. He would only need to make a mistake once. 

He was worried about protecting you from others, when he should have been worried about protecting you from him. 

He was no good for you, even if you would be very good for him. He was destined to live out his life alone. A punishment for his ability. 

Maybe a goodbye would help him. If he could leave you with a nice impression instead of an old, dirty man, maybe he could leave. 

He crosses the sea of people to the steps of the building. He could hear you as you said goodbye to your client, and drained the water from the tub. 

He waits by the bottom of the step until the man came down and passed him before entering. 

Was this a place where you made appointments? How long would he have to wait to see you again? He wondered. 

It was a different lady at the counter which alleviated some of Logan's anxiety. 

She greets him in the same manner as the other lady. 

“I was after a private bath with y/n. Would she be available?”.

The woman looks at her computer before smiling up at him. 

“You’re in luck. She just finished up. Follow me”. 

Logan wished he dressed nicer. Put on some cologne, brushed his hair. 

Your scent became stronger the closer he got, it seemed to ease his nerves. 

The women knocks three times on the door, and Logan's hand goes to reach for the knob prematurely. 

“Just a second”, you call out. 

“She won’t be long”, the woman addresses Logan, who drops his hand away. 

With a nod and a smile the woman returns to her desk, and Logan waits by the door for you. He ran over what he was going to say, but when you swung the door open he had forgotten his opening line. 

“I never expected to see you again” you state. 

“Me either”, he responds.

To his surprise you step back from the door to allow him in. He quickly takes the invite, shutting the door behind him. 

You were dressed in another black dress. This one had thick straps and an appropriate neckline but an open back that scooped down as far as possible. 

“I wanted to apologize”, he expresses.

You tested the running water with your hand as you listened to him. 

“You are far from my worst customer”, you revel. 

You don’t look at him as you add bubbles to the bath. 

“Still, what I said” Logan pauses under your stare before continuing, “What i did was uncalled for”. 

You smile a pretty smile at him almost as if you were laughing at him. 

“Well, you’re forgiven. Now did you want me to face the wall again?”, you ask. 

Logan twists on his spot. “I ain’t looking for a bath. Just to apologize”. 

“Have one” you insist. 

You walk over to him, taking his belt into your hands. He catches your wrist to stop you from taking it off. 

“You got me in trouble last time”, you tell him, “You’re not supposed to walk out scared and wet. If you walk out now in less than a minute they’ll wonder what I did”.

“Well I owe you two apologies”, he states.

“If you're looking to apologize, get in the tub”.

He feels you pull out of his hold, and he lets you make distance so you could spin around. 

His self-restraint wasn’t that strong so he rids himself of his clothes and hides under the bubbles in the tub. 

Hearing the water splash, you turn to him. 

With the weight of his adamantium bones the water rises to the top and you quickly go to turn off the tap. 

You kick off your shoes, leaving them at the faucet and walk back up to the top of the tub. 

“I can’t see anything”, you console as you kneel down beside him. 

He reaches his hand out to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You’re a world of hurt for me, bub”.

“Your world only lasts fifty minutes”, you tease. 

You move out of his touch to go behind him. Your small fingers squeeze his big shoulders. He relaxes under your touch as you work your way along his shoulders to his neck and back. 

“Feels good, bub” he praises. 

“Feels good?” you repeat.

Your hands trail down his chest, reaching for the top of the water. His hands catch yours before they could immerse under. 

“Don’t” he warns. 

“Okay. I am sorry” you apologize, tugging your hands free and back up to his neck, “I’ll stay above water”.

He found it hard to relax again. He felt vulnerable, naked under your touch. It would be better if you too were naked. It would make it less embarrassing when you realized he was hard under the water.

“I’ll put your clothes in the wash” you say. 

He reaches out behind him for you to stop you moving away.

“No. Keep going”, he protests. 

You don’t go to move again. Your fingers continue to massage him until he relaxes once more. 

Only then do you stop to reach for the shampoo bottle in front of him. You squirt it into your hands, and then massage it into his head. 

He falls back against the tub, loving the feeling of your hands twisting in his hair. 

You do it for longer than necessary seeing that he liked it.

Your fingers roll in a circle on the side of his head, causing him to groan at the feeling. 

His claws push up, moving the bones of his hands. It was painful every time but Logan had gotten used to the feeling. He flexes his fingers in an attempt to dissuade them from coming through. 

You must have noticed the grimace on his face as he forces the metal back into his hand because you stop massaging and reach for the cup to rinse his hair. 

You’re careful not to get it into his eyes, smoothing back the hair as the water and soap runs off. He could see why men pay for this. 

He takes your hand not holding the cup and forces it against his cheek as he lays back. With his eyes closed he breathes softly against your skin. 

“Are you okay?” you ask him. 

“I am worried I’ll never be okay again”, he admits. 

“You’re tough. I can see it” you flip your hand so your palm is pressed against his cheek, “You’ll be okay”. 

You drop the cup next to him, and reach for the conditioner. He is grateful that you allow him to rest against your hand as you massage it into his head. 

You try your best to get his whole head but his position made it difficult. 

"You know you don’t have a scar over you”, you mention. 

“Soft living’”, he jokes, although it was only funny to him. 

As you leave the conditioner to soak, you pick up a clean rag and begin to scrub his skin. 

Disappointment fills him when he feels you trying to release your hand from under him. He could have kept it stuck there but chooses to raise his head. 

You lift up his arm and scrub under his armpit, and along his side. Carefully not to scrub any skin under the water. 

You move onto the next and he laughs at you. 

“The full treatment here”. 

You smile back as you continue to work. 

“$300 should get you the full treatment”, you utter. 

“$300? Christ, that’s a year's worth of cigars”, he remarks. 

“You smoke?” you ask him. He feels your hands push him forward so he leans for you to wash his back. 

“Like a chimney” he honestly admits, “You get $300 an hour?”. 

You were done with his back so he leans against the tub again. 

“No” you state as you reach for the cup that had sunken under the water. You stop yourself before your hand goes under. “Would you mind passing me the cup?”. 

“Oh yeah”, he remarks, reaching down into the water and bringing up your cup. 

You take it from him and begin to rinse his hair. 

“No, I make $150 an hour. The house makes half”.

“Still pretty good. Maybe I am in the wrong line of business”, Logan quips playfully. 

“Maybe you are” you jest back, “You never did tell me what you did”.

“I told you. Bad things”, he pulls up out of your hold. He didn’t want to tell you what he did. What he was. 

“Are you always this tense?” you ask him. 

“Yes” was the short, curt reply. 

With a final squeeze of your fingers against his neck, you move down to the bottom of the bath. Slowly you reach for his soapy feet that were propped up against the end of the tub. When he doesn’t object, you take it as permission and begin to massage his feet.

His head makes a heavy thud as it falls back into the marble. It had been a long time since he had ever felt this good.

When he hears you begin to speak, he lifts his head back up to have eye contact with you.

“What made you come back?”, you question. 

He feels you apply more pressure to his foot as you ask. Something about the question made you nervous. 

“You”, he answers honestly, “i didn’t want you to think I was a prick”. 

Your lips curve into a smile at him, and Logan feels his heart twist. 

“I didn’t think you were a prick”, you say. 

“You’d be the first”, he huffs.  

Relief floods him. He wanted to ask if you thought he was a dirty, old man but he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer. 

No more conversation interrupts the peace. Logan allows himself to relax into the water while you dig your fingers into his flesh. He lets out soft groans to let you know that he appreciated what you were doing. 

All too soon, your strong fingers stop pushing into the soft flesh of his foot. His head shoots back up automatically out of his relaxed composure. 

His wet hair sticks to his forehead, and the steam from the bath had begun to sweat his skin. He looked like a wild animal, while you looked put together as always. 

With your make-up perfectly placed and not a hair out of place. He would love to see you disheveled. A whining mess underneath him as he teased another orgasim from you. But tonight would be the last night he would ever see you. 

You would go on, find a nice man to marry and have children to. Die of old age when your time comes. 

Logan would go his separate way. Keep living well past what he desired. With no purpose, and dying friends. 

You rise from your knees, and he watches you as you retrieve a towel from a warming rack and bring it back over. 

With your body half turned to him, you hold out his towel. 

“Get out and I’ll dry your hair”, you offer. 

He takes the towel, and you walk over to your vanity as he rises from the water and wraps the towel around his waist. 

He follows you, taking a seat when you tell him to. 

You look at him in the mirror as you plug your hairdryer in. Once you began to maneuver the device around his head, your eyes followed but his remained staring at you in the mirror. 

Sitting directly in front of you, he could see the actual size difference. You were half of him if that. 

You said you looked out for you, but how would that be possible? You weren’t anything special. Were you a mutant too? Or just a naive little girl who had never faced any real danger. 

Maybe it would be best if he were to take you. Danger lurks everywhere. He could take you home. Make sure nothing bad ever happened to you. 

The bones in his knuckles separated and the metal began to break skin but as the sound of the hairdryer cut, his claws retracted back in. 

He couldn’t take you. He was old enough to be your great grandfather. What had happened to him that he was thinking these thoughts? Has loneliness finally caught up with him after a century of being alive?

Your fingers snake up through his hair again, itching his scalp and the thoughts of taking you returned. 

“There, all dry” you state. 

The sound of a timer goes off, startling Logan who was expecting something wrong from the sudden noise. 

“That’s our five minute warning” you tell him. 

The forty-five minutes went too quickly. He would never see you again, or at least he had promised himself he would never see you again. 

You gather his clothes for him and throw them over a blind. 

“You can get dressed behind that”.

He nods his head. Moving quickly to cover himself again. 

These thoughts were relentless telling him not to go. She couldn’t stop you from staying, no one could. His conscience told him. But he needed to leave your presence before he did something he couldn’t just apologize for. 

Maybe some distance would help. He had been away from home too long. He just needed to return home and live comfortably for a while. Focus on the kids at school. 

He makes sure his jeans were properly done up, and that his shirt and jacket were the right way before returning from behind the blind. 

You were by the vanity chair, back on your knees with his shoes next to you. 

You smile at him and pat the chair. Telling him without words to come to you. 

He follows your request sitting down in front of you. You came up to his thigh in height. 

“I can do it” he states. 

“Full service” you reply. 

He feels the wood of the chair cracking under his hands so he moves it to the top of his thigh in a tight ball. 

You’re gentle as you place the socks on his feet, followed by his shoes. You even do up the laces for him despite the end timer going off two minutes prior. 

You rise from the floor, taking his hand to lead him to the door. 

“Will I see you again?” you ask him. 

“No” he promises but taking another look at you, he wonders if he can follow through. 

“Well, goodbye then, Logan”, you gently say. 

“Goodbye, y/n” he returns. 

He tears himself away from your door, walking the same quick pace back to the front counter where he throws his card on the desk and pushes his way back into the busy street. 

His instinct told him to go back, he had to fight against it the whole way home. 

—--------------------

He thought distance was the answer, but his heart ached to go get you. No amount of alcohol or pills satisfied it. 

Everyone knew something was wrong. He got sick of everyone asking him what happened on his trip. If he was okay. If he wanted to talk. 

He had gotten more aggressive than usual. Things that he could normally brush off, now end with someone pinned against the wall by their throat. 

Xavier tried his best to get into Logan's head but his resolve would not soften. No one would understand how he felt. No one would justify the measures he was willing to go. 

He booked a flight only a month later. Every day was spent thinking of you until he broke. He was a hero. Saved people daily. What was one life if it meant he was able to save countless others.

He books a room, the closest and cheapest to the bathhouse. He could smell you from here now that he had locked onto your scent. 

The old bed creaked under his weight as he struggled with himself. With his head in his hands, he grumbled to himself. 

He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be thinking these things to himself. It wasn’t too late to turn around. Nothing had been done that couldn’t be undone. 

But then he heard it. Your sweet voice welcoming a man into your door. His feet took off before he could stop them. It was only a short distance of a block to the bathhouse. 

The street was busy no matter the time of day, but much like when he first walked down it people parted to let him through. 

When he grips the door knob it shatters underneath his hand. So he is more gentle when he pushes the door open. 

A new woman greets him cautiously but he ignores her going straight to your room. The woman yells at him as he walks. One brave man tried to stop him and ended up thrown half a meter into the pool. 

No one bothers him after that. He could hear the water move as you washed the man. 

Knowing he will break the door knob, he instead pushes the door open, snapping the lock. 

You gasp hearing the impact, and look at him startled. The position was compromising. You were sitting back on your heels scrubbing the man's back wearing the same halter neck slut dress that you wore when he first met you. 

“Logan?” you question, “What are you doing?”. 

The man rises from the tub, unashamed by his naked state. 

“Get out”, Logan growls. 

“Listen buddy, I paid the full-” the man stops his sentence when the claws emerge from logans hands. 

You shrink back to the floor, using your hand to keep you upright. 

“Get out”, he repeats. 

This time the man scrambles to the door, running past Logan without his clothes. 

You try to follow suit but Logan's long claws block you from your exit. 

You stare at the shiny metal, your face reflecting back at you. 

“You’re coming with me”, Logan states, putting away his claws so he could take you by the arm. 

“Let go of me” you beg, trying to pull your arm from his grip. 

He leads you to the chaos of the bathhouse. Word had spread that a mutant had entered the building and now people ran for cover. 

“Let go. No!”, you scream.

 You pull your arm too harshly in his hold, he could hear the muscles in your arm straining under the pressure. He loosens his grip so not to hurt you, but brings you closer to his chest.  

“Stop it, kid” he demands, “You’re going to hurt yourself”. 

“Stop, logan. Please, just let me go”. Your heart was fast, and your eyes dripped with tears. 

He reaches up to touch your face but a gunshot pierces his body before it lands. An annoyed groan rubbles from his throat, and he pushes you away from the line of fire. 

Another bullet lands in his chest when he turns to see a man in a robe holding a shaking gun. 

He dodges the next shot, stalking forward to the frozen man, he grabs the gun out of his weak hold and sends him to the floor with a headbutt. 

Tossing the gun aside, he turns to see you no longer in your spot. You couldn’t have made it to the door in that short of time, and your scent was still strong in the room. 

He follows it behind the bar to where he saw you squeezed into a tight corner. 

“Hey, bub” he tries his best to use a soft voice, “we gotta go. Come on”. 

He reaches for you, but you push his hands away. 

“Come on” he says more forcefully. He reaches for your waist and not your arm to avoid hurting you. 

You thrash against him, begging him to let you go. 

He allows it until you reach the front door then he extracts a single claw from his hand that crossed your stomach. 

“Walk” he demands. 

He manoovers himself so he was behind you with a hand on your stomach and his claw pressed into your side. 

You allow him to walk you down the steps and through the crowd, back to his apartment. You were too scared to say anything. Some people gave you a strange look as you passed them crying but no one stopped to help. 

“You’re alright. I ain't going to hurt you”, he promises. 

He would never hurt you. As soon as you had managed to make your way through the crowd, Logan retracts his claw completely, instead placing both his strong hands on your hips to keep you moving forward. 

“Almost there. Atta girl, just keep moving”. He encourages. 

The dim lights of his hotel came into view. The vacancy sign buzzed allowing small flashes of light in an otherwise dark street. 

He could see fine given his heightened ability, but knew that your lack of senses must be adding to your anxiety. 

“Alright, this way”, he takes your wrist into his hand, trusting that you would follow him up the metal stairs. 

Your heel snagged on the step. Without Logan's hold you would have been sent flying forward. 

“Sorry” you gasp, trying to let him know that it was an honest stumble and not a deliberate act on your part. 

“Are you hurt?”, he steps down to your level, throwing your arm over his shoulder while he bends down to take off your shoes, “Let's take these off”.

He holds them in his hand, and your waist in the other and continues to lead you up. 

“Come on, we are almost there. Just down the end”. 

You reach the top of the stairs and he leads you to the end of the corridor. Stopping at the door that peeled with paint while he digs in his pockets for his key. 

He opens the door, quickly pushing you inside and shutting it again. 

“Here sit” he suggests. 

With his hands off you, he turns on the bedside lamp so you could see.

You do take a seat on the bed, and Logan stands in front of you. 

“You’re a mutant?” you finally say. 

“Yeah” he admits with a hard tone. 

“Are you going to kill me?”, you whisper. 

“Christ, no”, he kneels down in front of you so he could be in your eyesight, his hands caged around your legs on the mattress. 

“Y/n, I am one of the good guys”, his own words froze him. His eyes cast down to where your dress has risen dangerously high up your thigh. His finger traces up from your knee to your dress hemline. 

“Not that you are going to believe that after I am done with you” he says more to himself than you. 

“What are you going to do?”, you quake. 

He rises himself enough to place a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“Whatever I want”,  he whispers against your lips. 

He pushes you as gently as he can into the mattress. Using his body weight to cement your place under him. 

“Get off”, you complain the second his lips are off you. 

“I can’t” Logan protests. His lips go to your neck, biting down harshly. He intended to leave a mark. A claim of sorts for the world to see. 

He may have bitten down too harshly, as you push against his face with your hands. 

He can hear your heartbeat as it thumps in your chest. It stills him in the crook of your neck. 

He didn’t want to scare you. 

“I am sorry”, he admits softly into your skin. 

He places a soft kiss on the sore he had just created, and reaches to untie the knot of fabric around your neck. 

Your hand reaches up to catch the fabric as it falls, holding it over your breasts. 

He moves on, hooking his fingers around the elastic of your underwear, and pulling them off onto the floor. 

“It’s alright, just breathe”, he concludes. 

You keep your eyes shut, and your breaths manic. 

In an effort to make you more comfortable, he lifts you up by your armpits and places you in the center of the bed. He changes positions to match yours, straddling you on the bed while he moves the pillows under your head, and by your sides. 

You lay there frozen with your eyes squeezed shut, while he removes his clothes on top of you. 

You feel his attention return when his lips press down on yours, his hand gently on the side of your face. 

“Open your eyes, and look at me”, he commands in a low whisper. 

You are met with his face, and bare shoulders peering over you. 

“There she is”, he grins a beautiful smile as he brushes his thumb along your cheek. 

His lips go to yours again before trailing down to your neck, and chest. 

His hands met your on the fabric of your chest, and he tugs it down, bunching the dress around your hips. 

A kiss is placed at the top of your breast activating your fight. 

You tried to push against him but he was too heavy to even shift. 

“Easy” he tells you, “take it easy. It’s alright”.

He comes back up to your face, and begins to stroke your face with his finger again. 

“Settle down”, he breathes. 

“Logan, please just let me go”, you beg. 

“I tried to,” he admits, “but I've never been much of a quiter”. 

He kneads the flesh of your breast in his hand, and grows darker at the thought of not completing what he wanted to do. 

“Now you’re going to relax and let me take care of you, or I'll tie you to the bed”. 

You don’t move again as Logan trails down your body to slide the bunched fabric of your dress down. 

He nestles between your thighs next, keeping a strong grip as he inserts himself into you. 

He groans as you accept him. Despite your protests you were warm, and wet for him.  

He places his hands on stomach feeling the skin that had been hidden from him for so long. 

“Please keep your hands away from me”, you shudder. You curl into yourself as much as you could, scared that the blades would come out and pierce into you.

He takes his hand off your stomach, per your request. 

In an act to show you he had no intention of hurting you, he releases his claws, and drives them into the mattress either side of you. He feels as they push through the fabric to the bed frame. 

 “I would never hurt you” he promises.

He keeps his weight on his hands as he thrusts into you. Your hand remained on your chest until they sprang out to his shoulder in an attempt to control the pace. 

He slows down until he is at a pace where you no longer push on his shoulder. 

As he continues you find yourself building, so you turn away and bury your head into your pillow. 

You hear as his claw is pulled from the mattress, and feel his tight grip as it latches around your chin. He pulls your face back to his direction, resting his forehead on top of yours. 

You feel his quick breaths on your skin, and breathe them in. 

His eyes were closed, but one hand now held your face in place, and the other held your hip down. 

You gasp when you feel yourself cuming around him.  A low growl makes its way to your ear but you were more focused on Logan fucking you through your orgasm. 

Your nails become claws when he doesn’t stop. You make weak sounds, but no words as he thrusts into you. 

“You can take it” he says, somehow knowing what you were trying to say. 

His hold on your chin becomes hurtful as he reaches his end. You yank at his fingers trying to pry them off but your fingers slip from the force you were trying to use and makes no difference to him. 

A loud moan tells you he was done before you felt the warm substance drip from you. 

With a smaller, satisfied groan he opens his eyes to look at you. The same smile appears on his face preceding a deep kiss to your lips. 

He doesn’t remove himself from you but loosens his hand on your chin, and hip. 

You feel his body weight as he rests his head back on your forehead. He was conscious to keep his weight off you, yet the skin he pressed against yours, pinned you to the mattress.

“You alright, princess?” he pants. 

You don’t answer him, and he kisses you in your silence. 

 By the third time you are fucked dumb. You have a glazed look in your eye, and your body is weak against his. He uses you like a toy. Kissing you, and fucking you while you lay there with little energy left. 

His stamina and quick recovery times meant that once was never enough to satisfy him. You would lay quietly next to him for only a few minutes before he was ready to go again. 

You whine as he approaches you again, not ready for yet another round.

He lays on top of you, gently caging your head between his arms as he whispers “I know, I know”. 

He did know. When you began to cry from overstimulation, he felt terrible but couldn’t bring himself to stop. He wasn’t anywhere near his peak, and your pussy clenched so nicely around him.

“Don’t cry”, he begs, “sh, don’t cry”. 

You wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t sure if you could even hear him in your state, but he continued to talk anyway. 

“Sh, its alright. Feel good there?”, he asks as your hips buck against him. 

“Feels good there, hey baby”, he targets the spot that makes your hips buck, and you latch on to his strong shoulders with your nails. 

“Pretty girl like you should always feel good. Can I be the one to always make you feel good?”.

No more fresh tears sprang from your eyes, but the path was still wet, and a large tear balanced on the outer corner of your eye. 

He moves his hands closer, using his thumbs to brush off the water. 

“No more crying, hey bub”.

You turn your head away from him, resting your forehead on his bicep. He turns his attention to applying the right amount of force between your legs. 

He gives you a bigger rest time between the next one. Despite, him roaring to go again. 

You lay pressed against his side, half-asleep. He slung his arm over the top of your pillow, waiting for you to recover. 

Your lipstick was worn off from his ferocious kissing, and your hair had come undone around you. 

You open your eyes to look up at him, and he takes it as a sign that he could continue. 

He takes your chin into his hand to keep it still as he slides down in the bed next to you. 

“No. That’s enough”, you demand, trying to wiggle your head from his hold. 

“Just one more” he promises, “I just need one more”. 

He kisses you as he hooks your leg over his hip. Reaching back to guide himself into your swollen pussy. You fit together like a jigsaw piece, another reason why all of this was meant to be. 

He liked the intimacy of the position, pushing against your lower back to force you closer. He holds his hand there as he thrusts into you, keeping you from wiggling away. 

You rest your head on his chest, and arm over his neck taking what he gives you. 

His pace is gentler than it had been all night. Slow, controlled thrusts that rocked your body rather than shook it. 

His arm under your head kept you level with the large man, but also meant that every moan, and whimper went straight into his ear. 

It was encouraging for him to hear you reluctantly enjoying yourself.  He only wanted to bring you pleasure never pain. 

You groan softly as you cum again, and it triggers his own orgasm. 

When he was done with you for the final time, you collapse into the mattress without Logan's body scaffolding yours. 

He brushes the hair that had fallen over your face away with his large palm, and lays flat on the bed. 

“Come here” he requested, opening his arms for you. 

With eyes closed you shuffle to his chest where he pulls you just over his heart. You fall asleep almost instantly, but Logan remains awake gently stroking your hair. 

He had been called an animal all his life, but tonight was the only time he truly felt like it. 

—-------------------

You woke the next morning to the sound of his voice, 

“Hey bub, hey, come on, we have to get going”. 

You feel him smooth his palm over the side of your face, and you knock it away. It felt like knocking your hand against an immovable metal pole. 

Last night ruined you. You weren’t sure you could rise from the bed if you wanted to. 

“I am not going anywhere with you”, you state. 

He had taken what he wanted. The deal now was to leave you in peace. 

The next sound of his claws unsheathing and digging themselves into the mattress next to you made your eyes sprung open in shock. 

“Get up, now”, he demands. He was eager to get home and get you settled in. 

Xavier would get involved if Logan was absent for too long. A week here and there was nothing unusual but Xavier knew Logan too well to ignore any strange behavior. 

He passes you your dress as you rise, and you quickly place it on, looking for your panties next. Watching you put them back on made Logan want to take them back off but the plane was departing soon. 

The short, black dress was definitely more night time appropriate. You stand trying to cover your chest with your folded arms. 

He takes off his jacket, passing it to you as he speaks. 

“How far is your place from the bathhouse?” he asks. 

“Not far, a block”, you answer. You take the jacket off him and zip it up over your dress. 

It smelt of him, and his cigars. 

“Come on”. He says, taking your arm and tugging you behind him as he left the apartment. 

“I can get there myself”, you fought. 

“Kid, we haven’t got time”. He moves his grip to a harsher one on your upper arm, and half carries you in the direction he wanted you to go in.

Your heels click behind him down the steps. He detours to drop his room key back to reception before continuing on the path back to your work.

He is silent as he backtracks to the bathhouse. The street is much busier during the day. People stare as you pass them looking. 

When the Bathhouse comes into clearing he can feel you pull against him trying to get him to stop. 

He halts of his own accord, peering down at you in the middle of a busy street.

“I need to get my keys and phone from work”.

“I can get through the door. Don’t worry about that”, he shakes you slightly, getting impatient with the lack of direction,  “Which way?”

You point to the left, and take the led back to your house.

The streets thin as you weave your way out of the center of the city, and into the residential block. Everything was old and run down. 

Broken, smashed cars lined the streets, graffiti was sprayed on every covering, people kept to themselves not even looking out the window as you passed. 

He follows you until you stop at a run down apartment block. 

“This is it”, you state. 

“Upstairs”, he orders but you don’t move. 

“Let me go or I'll scream”, you threaten. 

“And I’ll kill anyone that comes. Upstairs”.

 You were yet to learn that Logan had reservations about killing needlessly, especially non-mutants, so you admit defeat and wander down three apartment blocks to your actual home.

The bar was low, but your apartment block was the nicest in the street. No graffiti or broken windows. A nice, clean brick that reached three stories and opened to a nice fourier. 

There was no elevator but there was only one flight of stairs up to your apartment. 

You show him your door labeled 2A, telling him there was no way to get it open unless he took you back to the bathhouse. 

He ignores you, placing his hand on the knob and giving it a gentle push that breaks the lock. 

Your heart rate picks up faster, which worries Logan as it was already quite high. 

He lets go of your arm to allow you to go in first, and shuts the door behind him. 

It was a one bedroom apartment, with a small open kitchen that opened to a small space that had to be chosen to be a living room or a dining area. 

You had chosen a living room with a green couch sat in front of a small rectangular table. 

“You can take what you want. I have some jewelry in the food cupboard”, you state. 

“This isn’t a hold-up”, he grumbles, “Come here”.

He goes to your bedroom, listening to your feet following him. 

He goes to your closet to see your luggage bag stored up top. He takes it down, and begins throwing items into it. 

‘What are you doing?”, you begin to panic seeing him stuff your suitcase with your clothes. 

“Do you have a passport?”

“Why?”

The plane was departing within the hour. He had no time to answer obvious questions. 

“Do you have one?”. He reiterates. 

“No”. Your heart skips a beat as you lie. 

“Go get it”, he demands. 

“I don’t want to”, your voice was quiet and strained. 

He knew he should have taken a softer approach. To be uprooted overnight would be a hard thing for anybody.

Yet still, his claws dig through at your resistance. 

“Go get it”, he said in a lower tone. 

His blades work to persuade you, and you move quickly to your bedside table to retrieve it. 

He zips up your suitcase, holding out his hand for your passport. You pass it to him, taking a step back once it's in his hand. 

Checking it’s valid, he puts it in his back pocket alone with his. 

“Logan, I can keep a secret” you say, “I would never tell anyone about you”. 

“That’s nice, bub. Go change”, he nods to the wardrobe behind him which you take a pair of jeans, and a singlet from. 

You were too quick to the bathroom, so he stops you before you enter. 

“Ah” he tuts. 

He takes a look inside first to check for windows. There was only a small one with a security screen so he allowed you to pass and shut the door on him. 

After a frustrating phone call in which he was misunderstood twice, he manages to order a taxi to the airport, and knocks on the door to let you know it was on its way. 

You open the door a different person. Your makeup was all wiped off, and your hair was pulled back into a ponytail. 

The confident seductive was replaced with this fragile girl-next-door type. He didn’t think it was possible to love you anymore. 

You hand out his jacket to him which he takes but opens it to wrap around your shoulders. 

“Keep it. It looks good on you”.

“Logan-” you begin but he cuts you off. 

“Sh” he dismisses taking your head into his hands, “it’s alright. I know”. 

“But-” you try. 

He sh’s you again, “Don’t think. Just come with me”, he begs. 

Moving his hands from your head to your wrist he takes you back outside the bathroom to where your bag lay waiting by the door. 

You don’t know why but you follow his direction to put your sandals on your feet, and follow him down to the street and into a taxi. 

Your head reels as the car drives. The taxi is silent, only the sound from the radio plays. Logan holds onto your thigh while he looks out of the window. 

You stare at his hands, wondering where the blades went when they were retracted. 

You think about telling the driver but one man was no match for Logan. 

The man pulls into the drop off station, and gets out to get your luggage. 

Logan turns to you in the car, demanding your attention from his eyes alone. 

“Are you going to save us both some time and be a good girl, or do we need to go over what will happen if you draw attention?”. 

You shake your head ‘no’. 

“Good girl, let’s go”. 

Logan goes out the same door you do, instantly taking your hand in his in the busy station. 

He pays the man, and takes your suitcase for you. 

“Where are we going?”, you request. 

Logan joins the back of the line for check-in’s

“New York”, he gives. 

“What's in New york?” you ask him. 

“Home”.  

You flex your hands in his, trying to get it free.

“I am going home with you?”, you implore. 

He nods, not looking at you.

“You said you were one of the good guys”, you remind him. 

“I told you, I am a good guy that does bad things”. 

His fingers clench around yours in a painful hold. Your eyes fill up with fresh tears. You knew Logan wouldn’t hurt you, but he was a stranger, a mutant, who had taken you from your home, and planned to place you in his. 

“Don’t cry. Not here”, he demands. 

He moves his body to shield you from prying eyes, as you try your best to conceal your panic. 

A gentle hand rubs your back as you move up in line. 

The girl at the counter notices your red eyes, and asks if you are okay.

“She’s a nervous flyer” he lies. 

The woman ignores him, asking you the question again. 

The hand you held had blades that came out on command so you nod your head in agreement. 

“I’ll be fine once we are up in the air” you say. 

The woman hands Logan the tickets, and you make your way over to the security screening. 

Logan seemed amazed you had lied for him. 

He kisses your head, thanking you for not causing a scene. 

He lets you go easy when you reach the security point, letting you walk through the metal detector. 

You eye the security and their guns, but you watched Logan get shot at point blank. Would their guns even dint him?

The metal detector beeps when Logan walks through. For a second, you think that you will find out if their guns work on him when a security officer closes in. 

“Easy there, big guy”, Logan takes a slip of paper out of his pocket to show the man, “I have a metal hip”. 

The man takes the pass over to his supervisor.  You wonder if they know something is wrong as they talk, but the manger looks relaxed, and with a wave of his hand the pass is given back to Logan, and you get the go ahead. 

Logan slings his arm over your shoulder past the security who don’t take a second glance.

“You have metal in your hands?” you whisper the question to him. 

“I have adamantium in my entire body” he explains, “It’s a type of metal”. 

You feel amazed at the news. A whole body of metal reinforcing him to be the most dangerous man you had ever met. 

The most dangerous man you had ever met took you over to a cafe stand. Buying you, and himself a roll and coffee. 

You never would have guessed the man you met at the bathhouse harbored such a secret. How many other clients were mutants too, or was he the only one. 

“It’s gettin’ cold”, he says noticing you staring at him. 

You accept his gift, starving after last night. 

The rest of the time until boarding was silent. Only then did the sense of dread kick back in. 

“Please”, you beg. 

“I am sorry. Get on the plane”. His voice was soft, but you could hear no sound of true sympathy from it. 

He keeps you in front of him as the attendant checks the tickets, and you find your seats. 

You were the only two on your row, right at the back of the plane. 

Logan settles into the seat beside you, doing up his seatbelt, and checking yours. 

The cabin crew begin their safety speech. Your eyes were trained out the window, not looking at them. You hoped the plane crashed. 

When the plane began moving at a fast pace, Logan checked your seatbelt again, pulling on it to make sure it was tight across your lap. 

You look at him. He was tense again, and shut his eyes when the plane took off. 

When it stabilized he let out a breath of air, and opened his eyes, falling back into his seat. 

“Afraid of flying?” you ask surprised. 

“If god wanted us to fly, we’d have wings”, he quips. 

“And if god wanted us to have blades in our hands, we would”. 

Logan's hands ball into fists. He was a freak in your eyes.

“One day I’ll explain what happened to me”, he promises. 

“What else can you do? You’re strong, hard, body full of metal”, you start, “and that man. He shot you”. 

“Baby, I can do alot of things”, he dismisses. 

“Like what?” you push. 

“Maybe now is not the time to be discussing this”. He says looking around at other passengers. Most of whom already had their earphones on. 

“What do you want with me?”, you implore. 

“Now’s really not the time to be discussing that” He grits.

“One of the good guys” you remind him. 

“I'll settle for being an okay guy. Stop talking” he growls. 

You turn back to the window away from him the rest of the flight. 

You watch as the clouds below you turn orange, and then black. Logan passes you a food tray from the stewardess and you eat it in silence. 

It must have looked odd to the stewardess. Neither you or Logan played with the screen in front of you. Just sat there with grim expressions on your faces. 

 Lights turn off as the cabin goes to sleep. You were nowhere near ready with the adrenaline pumping through your body. 

Logan takes his blanket from the wrapper and lays it over your shoulder. 

“You should sleep,” he says. 

“Is that how it's going to be from now on? You telling me what to do” , you snap. 

Logan turns away from you, facing to the front. 

“It was just a suggestion”. 

You run your hands over your face wondering what sort of keeper he was going to be. 

“I need to pee” you say. 

He unbuckles his seatbelt to get up out of your way but you couldn’t wait for him. You’re fighting to get past him as he tries to stand. 

He grabs your waist to maneuver you but the touch sends rage through your body. 

You scream in his face. A loud ear piercing scream that turned everyone’s attention on you. 

Logan quickly let go, slumping back into his seat under the stare of other awake passengers. 

You rush to the bathroom, locking the door behind you. 

The tight space allows you to breathe. 

Washing your face with cold water, you decide it is time to return to your seat. 

Logan waits for the sound of a turning lock before he jumps from his seat to catch you as you exited and push you back inside. 

He is quick to lock the door behind him. 

Three, quick, firm smacks are placed on your bottom as he pushes you against the sink. 

It stings when he sits you on the counter, and stands between your legs.

“Are you crazy, bub? Acting like that”, he scolds. 

You try to move him out between your legs, but he pushes your knee down as you move your leg. 

“Don’t you ever misbehave like that again”, he warns. 

“Or what?”. He had already taken everything from you, and you trusted him enough to know he wouldn’t really hurt you. 

His angry stare didn’t scare you, but when his hands reached for the button of your jeans your heart rate spiked. 

“I gotta fuck the stupid out of you?” he spat. 

“Get off” you demand. 

You scream in his face again when his hand continues to unhook the button. 

He is quick to quieten you, clamping a hand over your mouth. Your head hits the mirror from the force.

He secures your hands behind your back with a single hand when you begin to hit him. It caused you more pain than him, it felt as if you were hitting against a brick wall.

The force knocks out his necklace that he had never worn before. A rectangular pendant dangles as he moves. You could see it was inscribed but the writing was too small to make out. 

“Is that how it’s going to be from now on? Me telling you what to do. Yeah. I think fucking so”, he grunts. 

“Now don’t scream” he orders. 

The hand over your mouth is removed as he uses it to tug down your jeans, and then his own. 

You know you should scream, make some sort of noise that would alert the others, but desire pooled with him between your legs. 

Your emotions were too complicated to unpack so you allowed him to take your pants off your legs. 

He throws them to the floor, but keeps your panties in his hands. 

You see why when he brings them to your lips, and forces them in your mouth. He clamps his hand back over to keep you from spitting them out. 

He sighs as he enters you. 

“You know, you don’t need to act stupid to get my attention”, he grunts as he rocks into you. 

Your toes curl feeling him inside of you. He fit so completely that you were building from just clenching around him. 

“Don’t cum. I’ll tell you when”, he says. 

You muffle a protest against his hand, but it was met with no sympathy. 

“Don’t you fucking cum or I’ll put you over my knee for ten more”. 

Your ass still stung from the three he gave you so you delayed yourself the best you could. 

He picks up his pace, slamming into you quickly, and hard. You hear his chain clink as he moves.

“Okay now”, he directs. 

Your thighs shake as you clench around him. 

His hand drops to allow you to regain your breath, bringing your pants from your mouth as he did. 

He pants in unison with you, only he is quicker to regain his resolve. Your head was still reeling while he re-buttons his jeans. 

He shakes his head as if he was trying to snap out of the trance he was in. 

It seemed to have worked as he was gentle when he slid your underpants back on. 

It was as if two people lived inside of him. One was sweet, and gentle, the other impulsive, and violent. 

You weren’t sure which one turned you on the way it did. 

He looks at you with those remorseful eyes. You should hate him but yourself wanting to comfort him. You knock it down to Stockholm and square your shoulders against his. 

“Let me take a look at you”. He turns your face in his hand and smooths back your hair from your face with his other hand. 

He checks to make sure you are okay. You didn’t look to be crying or in any pain. 

“You right, Bub? You going to be good for me from now on?”, he asks.

You take the necklace out of his shirt. He doesn’t move to stop you, letting you read his dog tags. 

‘LOGAN’ in capital letters and Howlett in smaller letters below. A series of numbers trace the bottom. 

You flip it, feeling the indents on the other side, and run your finger over the name. 

“Wolverine” you read, “like the animal?”.

He takes his tags from your hand and tucks them back under his shirt. 

“Yeah, like the animal”. 

[fence-time]

Playground AU but the children are powerful supernatural creatures that just so happen to be children the parents drop off so that the poor caretakers have to deal with.

Grian and Pearl are avian fledglings, are are always seen digging up and eating bugs from the playground. They don’t have enough feathers to fly, but just enough to glide, and their love of heights makes it a common occurrence for them to start climbing on the bookshelves and tables.

Gem and Lizzie are fae creatures, and are from different courts. Gem is from the Summer Court, while Lizzie is the heir to the Spring Court. They have this… really creeping unblinking stare that bore into your soul. They trained the small animals from the nearby forest to attack people, and have on multiple occasions, let a bear try to maul someone.

Scott is a unicorn satyr. He can create rainbows, is always photogenic, and can heal minor wounds. What’s the issue you may ask? Scott will more often than not, waltz out of the building, plop down in the soccer field and begin eating the grass. He’s also very fussy about his clothes. One time a tree branch tore his clothes, so he used his horn to set it on fire, causing a minor forest fire.

Scar and Cub are vexes and are basically the twins from the shining. Always at the end of a hallway, asking for something. They also are entirely carnivorous, so they sneak out into the forest, find the nearest wild animal (squirrel, bird, a god forsaken wolf at one point), kill it and just… eat it. Blood gets everywhere, and both use the blood and viscera as art supplies. Scar once gave Grian a bird’s head, covered in glitter, stabbed on a stick covered in a mixture of blood and paint.

Joel is an ogre. He’s also quite temperamental. He’s also egregiously strong for his age and once threw an entire desk out the window. He often gets into fights, and has difficulty controlling his strength. He has currently destroyed a window, 2 desks, 4 chairs, 1 door, 12 bathroom doors, several paintbrushes, a wall, a concrete wall, a metal and wooden baseball bat, and the monkey bars.

Skizz and Impulse are an Angel and a demon respectively. Their true forms are enough to make anyone faint or go temporarily insane, and they can control the ambient temperature around them. Their clans are at constant war with the other, despite the two of them being extremely close, and whenever their parents pick them up, the two families immediately start fighting in the parking lot.

Bdubs is a sandman. He’s able to make dreams literally materialize out of sand, and he uses this to create giant sand kaijus, tanks, dragons, monster trucks, and even a castle, all made up of sand. He also has a bad habit of sleeping in the most weirdest and convoluted places in the school. They once found him on the school’s intercom system sleeping peacefully.

Etho is a boogeyman. He is a living nightmare, able to meld into the shadows themselves and cause horrific nightmares. Unfortunately, due to his inexperience with these powers, he often just ends up tripping into someone’s shadow or unleash a torrent of spiders into the classrooms. Did I forget to mention he’s made up entirely of spiders?

Jimmy is the token human. He’s just a dude who’s entore class is made up of the supernatural. He’s well liked, but often starts or gets roped into one of his classmate’s shenanigans. He’s also chronically unlucky, causing him to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He breaks a bone at least once a year and is a regular at the nurse’s office.

This is getting long so I’ll just list off the rest: BigB is a creaking dryad, Cleo is a zombie (duh), Tango is a blazeborn, Ren is a werewolf, Martyn is an oracle, Mumbo is a vampire, Zedaph is a jabberwocky, and Doc is a… goat cyborg thing.

Awhhhhh this is really cuteee :0

I have a feeling this etho and Scot wouldn’t get along 😭 a single spider crawls onto scotts jumper or smth and suddenly the buildings on fire :P

[tubbytarchia]

I'm back on my crap

Song is Forest Fire by Brighton

It'll be a general animation of the life series in general, and not shippy! Just general... Really wanted to animate this scene first though to some degree teehee

If you'd be so kind, please suggest some significant feeling scenes that I could add into the animation involving Impulse, Skizz, and Pearl outside of Double Life + Lizzie outside of Secret Life!!

woe Jimmy and flower base upon ye too

[maybe-im-dark]

First blood

The forest was eerily quiet, the kind of silence thar settled after violence had taken its toll. A faint mist hung in the air, filtering the moonlight that seeped through the canopy. The metallic taste of blood lingered, sharp and fresh.

Victor Creed followed the scent like a predator honing in on its prey, his lips curling into a grin. His sharp eyes caught the trail of disturbed leaves and snapped branches, leading deeper into the woods. He’d been searching for Logan for hours after hearing the commotion back in town. The screams. The chaos. He knew what had happened before he saw it.

Finally, in a small clearing, he found him.

Logan stood motionless, his chest heaving as his claws dripped with blood. His hands were slick with it, trembling slightly. His white teeth were stained red. The corpse of a man lay at his feet, his throat ripped open and his lifeless eyes staring into the void. Blood pooled around the body, soaking into the earth.

Victor stepped closer, his heavy boots crunching against the leaves.

"Well, well", he drawled, his voice low and amused. "Looks like baby brother's finally got his first taste."

Logan didn’t turn. His claws retracted, the jagged bones returning into his forearms, as he stared down at his shaking hands, the blood smearing across his palms. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were wide, hazel flecked with an unfamiliar wildness.

"I...i didn’t mean to", Logan muttered, his voice barely audible. "He made me angry. I just...i couldn’t stop."

Victor crouched beside the body, inspecting it with a predator's curiosity.

"What'd he do?", he asked, his tone more interested than concerned.

Logan’s jaw clenched. "He...insulted me. Said i was an animal. Said i didn’t belong in town. He shoved me. And then..."

"You showed him he was right", Victor finished for him, standing again. He grinned, revealing sharp teeth. "You showed him exactly what kind of animal you are."

Logan turned to him, his face pale. "It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I...what have i done?"

Victor stepped closer, his hand clamping down on Logan’s shoulder. "You did what you’re meant to do, Jimmy. You stopped holdin' back. You let it out. And you know what? It felt good, didn’t it?"

Logan’s eyes darted away, but Victor leaned in, his voice dropping to a growl. "Don’t lie to me. You felt it. That rush. The power. That’s what we are, brother. Predators. Killers. And you just took your first step into what you’re meant to be."

"I'm not..." Logan started, but the words faltered.

Deep down, he knew Victor was right. The adrenaline still pulsed in his veins. He hated it, but he couldn’t deny the truth.

Victor threw an arm around Logan’s shoulders, steering him away from the body. "C’mon. First kills are a big deal. We’re gonna celebrate. Drink, maybe pick a fight. You’ve earned it."

Logan hesitated, glancing back at the lifeless figure. His stomach churned, but the warmth of Victor’s arm and the intensity of his words were hard to ignore. Victor had always been there, guiding him, protecting him. Surely, he couldn’t steer him wrong.

"Don’t be scared of it", Victor said, his voice softer now. "This is who we are. Who you are. And trust me, Jimmy —there'll be a hell of a lot more where that came from."

Logan swallowed hard, but he let Victor lead him away from the clearing, away from the blood and the guilt. Deep down, something stirred within him —a part of him that was both terrified and exhilarated.

And as the two brothers disappeared into the night, the forest remained silent, a witness to the moment Logan took his first step into the dark he’d tried to fight.

[littleartidiot]

GIVE ME YOUR WILD KRATT HEADCANNONS PLZ I WANT THEM SO BADDD

You know what? I'll go first.

-The bros childhood home was basically right next to a huge forest and every night they'd sneak out to go look at cool animals. They'd only get caught when they'd have to wake up their parents to take them to the hospital for a rabies shot.

-The gang all had met each other at least once when they were kids but only became a group after college. And they all have really funny memories of the others as kids, like Aviva meeting the bros cuz they fell out of a tree trying to look at birds up close, stuff like that. They bring it up sometimes

-On long trips they'll have movie nights, and sometimes game night, but Jimmy always wins without fail. Even the animal trivia games, which upsets chris and martin GREATLY.

-All the crew have their own rooms to sleep in, but Chris is the only one that almost exclusively uses his when he's on the ship. Martin mostly sleeps in his bed, but will sleep in a hammock in the main area if he can't fall asleep, it somehow always works. Aviva and Koki were roommates in college and had a bunk bed set up, so they would talk about tech stuff if they couldn't sleep. They set up the hammocks for that case originally. And Jimmy just kinda sleeps anywhere. They found him sleeping in the garage once, just on the floor, so they added another hammock to the stack so it wouldn't happen as much.

-Koki can get REALLY protective over Aviva and Jimmy, it can be a little scary sometimes, but she means well

-Jimmy thumb nail is kinda fucked up from hitting it with a hammer like 7 times in the same day

-Jimmy is the only one in the crew with a pilots license, which is why he almost always drives the Tortuga, and while he's not officially the chef, he's the best cook on the ship and will often make the rest of the crew food without prompting

Ok I did some of mine now TELL MEE-

[ludolka]

Hello hello I just binged through the activity detected au again and I’m having Thoughts about the ritual

So Xelqua is an ancient god right? So I’m kinda assuming that the ritual involves some kinda physical component and not just ✨say the magic words✨, say for example carving runes into the floor/walls

Obviously Grian can’t do that at home his family would find out, so he goes to some old abandoned house/building and does it there so no one can find the remnants and connect it back to him. (Potentially this building is part of his old school if you want to add to the panic of the surprise investigation)

Eventually people find it anyways bc people are nosy, so the PT crew end up doing an investigation there anyways, and whether or not grian goes with (I’d imagine not bc I’m assuming the ritual was not a Fun Time and he does not have good memories there) he has Big feelings about his friends being there, especially Jimmy given how much effort he’s put into keeping Jimmy out of his whole mess. Maybe xelqua feels his turmoil and steps in through some dreams or smt.

(This might not be even close to the direction you were wanting to go with it, but my brain is running in circles around your au it’s so good, thank you for creating it)

Oh boy, I’m at work, so I’m writing this reply during my smoke breaks lmao. Also I just saw you sent me another ask expanding on this, I’ve read it and I’ll answer that in like an hour when I’ll have time again to write

First - thank you so much for enjoying this AU, it makes me so happy :”) I love hearing everyone’s takes on it and how we’re pretty much writing this AU together as a community, y’all’s input helps a lot with the story and world building. I highly doubt this would have gotten this detailed without you all, so thank you <3

And it’s just so surreal that there is at least one person out there who actively thinks about this silly little story besides me. It makes me very emotional /pos :”) <33

-

But sap time over lmao

I haven’t put much thought about the ritual itself besides it requiring blood and burning some of his hair. But I like the idea a lot that he’d have to do a whole lot more, which would require a whole new environment

Hm, I could see him having gone to some old abandoned cabin or barn in the forest to complete the ritual. I could see this ritual being rather bothersome, needing a lot of blood in particular as Xelqua is a war god

Maybe Grian needed to use some animal’s blood that he himself killed to draw symbols and a summoning circle on the floor and walls. He’d then lit a fire in the middle of the summoning circle, said the chant out loud, burnt his cut off hair and cut his palm with the same knife he killed the animal with, letting the blood drip into the fire

( Also about the ritual, or more specifically about Grian becoming Xelqua’s avatar. I could see him be sort of “branded” with Xelqua’s symbol appearing somewhere on his skin like a tattoo )

And yes, I love the idea that PT on one of their usual tours would check out this one particular barn/cabin on accident. Grian would come along, not knowing where they were going, given how it has been like 10 years, he most likely has forgotten the exact location of where he did the ritual. And then he’d get the biggest fucking jumpscare going into the building and seeing the remnants of his old ritual

The rest of the group would be freaked out, they haven’t seen a building with this many symbols and obvious signs of a ritual before. And Grian would just freeze and try to act nonchalant while the symbol on his skin burnt him from the proximity to where the ritual was done. The cameras and equipment would go absolutely crazy as well, more than usual

[handdrawnverathin]

Hi. So, uh... it's been a while. And after all this time, I think it's time to be honest with myself and admit that this animatic is probably never going to be finished. I started it when I'd only watched a couple POVs of Third Life and it really shows in the designs. Some of them aren't bad - I still like how I drew Tango - but enough of them have details wrong or just weird vibes that continuing to draw them is kinda dissatisfying. That being said, I put a lot of work into it and didn't want to let it just die without saying anything, so here's a collection of GIFs from the few scenes I managed to get edited.

For the record, I am still on the Hermitcraft/Life Series brainrot train and I have some drawings that I've been working on that I genuinely like. So hopefully those will be done soon! Just as soon as I finish that one project that I started eight years ago. But it's getting there! I swear!

Also: for anyone interested, I've included the original frame-by-frame plan below the cut

SONG: Willow Tree March, The Paper Kites

Intro

Feet swinging over sandstone cliff face (0:00 - 0:05)

Lower half of Grian’s face visible, whistling (0:05 - 0:12)

The cool bit

Fade to front face view of Grian, looking up slightly (0:12 - 0:16)

Real quick zoom out to all players standing in a row looking dramatic (0:16 - 0:28)

Title card fades in as overlay (0:20 - 0:28)

Player introductions

(0:28 - 0:30)

(0:30 - 0:32)

(0:32 - 0:34)

(0:34 - 0:36)

Peaceful times

Grian walking through a forest, early morning. First frame is a footstep, then a side view of him looking around (0:36 - 0:44)

Flower Husbands meeting, afternoon. First frame is Scott peaking into the hole from outside, then Jimmy looking up at him sheepishly (0:44 - 0:52)

Renchanting looking up at the sky, sunset. First frame is a hand raised to block the sun, then a rear-view shot of them from the waist up (0:52 - 1:00)

Phantom shelter, night. First frame is a wide view of the group either hiding or fending off phantoms, then a close up of a few of them laughing with each other(1:00 - 1:08)

FIRST DEATH

Wide shot of Scar burning the tree (1:08 - 1:12)

Close-up of Grian’s face as he looks to the side. Creeper visible in the reflection of his eyes. (1:12 - 1:16)

Scar doing some smooth talking. A wisp of smoke fades in behind him.(1:16 - 1:20)

Close up of Scar’s face turning around, eyes widening (1:20 - 1:22)

Yellow heart (1:22 - 1:26)

The promise

Wide shot of Monopoly Mountain, cut to close-up of Grian swearing loyalty with a hand over his heart (1:26 - 1:34)

Close-up of Grian’s face, mostly the eyes, looking a little unhappy with the whole situation (1:34 - 1:42)

Tensions rising

Skizz looks at an enderman: over-the-shoulder shot of him looking back, then a close up on his eyes widening (1:42 - 1:50)

Cleo threatening Pizza - animated? Initial/final poses plus two in-betweens (1:50 - 1:58)

Tango’s lava game: first a close up of his smiling face, then a wide shot with his arms outstretched in front of the challenge (1:58 - 2:06)

Scar threatening Ren for the enchanter: first an over-the-shoulder shot of Scar, then one of Ren (2:06 - 2:14)

Uh-oh

Wide shot of ceremony (2:14 - 2:18)

Ren, kneeling, waist down and cloak on (2:18 - 2:22)

Low-angle shot of Martyn looking very uncomfortable. Winces a bit, axe raised and…  (2:22 - 2:28)

Swings down. We get a flash of Ren's face, grinning, before fading out. The red eyes linger just a bit longer. (2:28 - 2:32)

O_o

Flower wall burns down (2:32 - 2:40)

Rear view wide shot in silhouette

Front view, sad and also a little horrified

Desert battle (2:40 - 2:48)

Profile view of Grian with a slightly manic smile on his face as explosions go off. The camera is pretty close to him, so we can’t actually see the explosions, but add in some effects and it’ll get the point across

Siege of Dogwarts (2:48 - 2:56)

Aerial attack using slowfall arrows

Ground combat feat. Joel and dogs

 Bdubs kills Impulse, Scar kills Bdubs (2:56 - 3:04)

Interlude

Scar (right) kneeling in the water before Grian (left). We can see Scar from about chest down and only the lower half of Grian’s legs (3:04 - 3:12)

Low-angle shot of Grian looking down at Scar holding a sword. We can see Scar’s head and maybe a bit of his back depending on camera angles. (3:12 - 3:20)

Fade to the Tree in a dark void, glowing as if by firelight. Very slow pan out. Fade to a wider view before the light is extinguished, leaving us in darkness.  (3:20 - 3:28)

Ghosties (dark gray background, white outlines)

Jimmy/Cleo/Skizz (3:28 - 3:32)

Joel/Scott/Etho (3:32 - 3:36)

Tango/Ren/Martyn (3:36 - 3:40)

Impulse/BigB/Bdubs (3:40 - 3:44)

They want blood (survivors haunted by ghosts)

Grian, with chestplate and sword, looking very much like he’d rather be anywhere else(3:44 - 3:48)

Scar, also not having a good time, sword and shield but no chestplate (3:48 - 3:52)

Facing each other, no weapons or armor. Scar of left, Grian on right (3:52 - 3:56)

Close up side view of Grian’s face: scared, then steeling himself (eyes closed) then shouting as he runs in (3:58 - 4:02)

The girls are fighting! ;A;

(4:02 - 4:10)

(4:10 - 4:18)

(4:18 - 4:26)

We have a winner

Full body behind shot of Grian standing at the edge of the cliff before falling (4:26 - 4:36)

[ranfordgallus]

Im so fucking sad...i was watching a NEW wild kratts episode about DINOSAURS FINALLY i was just so happy they finally made a prehistoric episode..and then, I WOKE UP.

It was a FUCKING DREAM ALL LONG AND IT FELT SO REAL im so sad ...

From what i could recall from the dream the Kratt brothers went to a place called the underground forest where its just a forest ..but theres a huugggeee hole on the ground leading to...an underground forest!! And the original forest (not the underground forest) is a BIIGG forest too, im talking tall and big trees and big ass animals

So chris and martin was going down to the underground forest and saw... prehistoric creatures, im talking tyrannosaurs and raptors...only just carnivores from wht i remember really... And so the kratt brothers were having fun and turning into the dinosaurs in the forest, until the crews creature powersuit was stolen by the raptors in the area (side fact: i remember there was a red cps so im guess jimmy also has a power suit) aviva got mad at the kratt brothers and...yk chris and martin tried to find them because they're still wearing the cps and so they transformed into pterosaurs!! And flew to find the raptors who stole the suits

Successfully bringing back all the crews suits back in the tortuga i thought its over, turns out ...ITS NOT. Because suddenly chris and martin was in their raptor power suit (mind you i say raptors and not what species because...who can tell honestly, the raptors is a mix of jurassic park looking raptors and raptors with feathers and they are also pretty big..i guess its some type of dynonichus?) and chris is a small raptor and martin is also a small raptor, they were CHASED by i would say an allosaurus looking dinosaur and a dinosaur with a long neck (not be mistaken for gallimimus) but its also a carnivore, suddenly chris sizes himself a big bigger into around the same height as the allosaur trying to intimidate it..but then it didnt work, and so they jumped off the cliff INTO another underground forest

And then...thats all i could remember, i dont remember what happens next but, yk

[just-another-random-cloud]

Hello, I have a question. What are the rest of the villains in your Creature Chris au are they like monsters or human? And I hope you have a good day or night.

I have been thinking a lot about them, tbh, but I couldn't figure out some of them, only the main three so far.

Starting with Zach, he would be a dragon-like person (dragonborn... kinda???).

I like to think he created a whole business and even got a few buildings and houses while in a human disguise. He collects and hoards treasure, that he then uses to make automatons (basically the Greek Mythology version of robots and devices) that hunt for him and serve him. Here, he's way less of a villain, working for any side that pays him best, and usually leaving the scene before it can blow up in his face. He was born a human, but never reveals how he became like this.

I think he and Chris met when they were teenagers, they are not exactly friends, but aren't enemies either.

WARNING FOR ARACHNOPHOBIA

Human with traits of spider, it's not very realistic, but just to be safe.

Donita would be an Arachne-type spider creature, that lives in a big cave deep in the forest. She makes beautiful clothes with her silk, but the only problem, is that it's magic and can be used to control people's minds. She mostly uses it to make humans be obcessed with her clothes and want to buy more and more, but sometimes she can use it to make them work for her.

Gourmand, honestly, is the one that changed the least. He is a human, and a chef, but instead of hunting rare animals, he goes after... bigger fish.

A creature hunter, in a few words.

I still have no idea of what to do for Paisley, Rex and Dabio, and haven't decided about Koki and Jimmy, either (Aviva would be a human), and yes, I'm accepting suggestions-

Also, thank you! Have a good day/night, too!

[ooooo-mcyt]

The scene where Martyn and Ren kill Scott actually plays on my mind so much.

Well, first they killed Joel, and Scott lunged at them in retribution, so they kill him too, put him down to his red life. Scott tries to come back, to see if he can get any of his things, and he's spotted. Scott doesn't come close, but Martyn and Ren see him watching nearby, and they know he can't do anything, they already took his stuff, he can't fight them off, and he can't run. "Should we take him out of the series?" Ren asks, because it's not a matter of if they can. They know Scott is an easy kill. So they chase him, into the forest.

Martyn taunting Scott, "I wanna cuddle before you die", which is a terrifying thing to say. And then he brings up Jimmy, says he didn't want him to die? Whether this is a sincere sentiment is up for debate, but regardless, is such a thing to say while hunting Jimmy's grieving widow like prey. And something about the imagery of how Martyn just hovered around Scott and joked while waiting for Ren to kill him really felt like a mockery. And they slaughter Scott like an animal while he had no real means to fight back, because he would never have won and he would never have gotten away from them.

And Martyn doesn't sound remorseful. He doesn't sound as happy as he could, but he continues on with business and makes a joking comment about how Ren's "working". Ren, on the other hand, has a bit of a breakdown; "The blood is dripping into these eyes! I can't see, I've been blinded by my violence! ...We've become stone cold killers!". Martyn comforts him, briefly, but is quick to distance himself with "Well, you have (become a killer), I haven't really done that much. So, should we burn this stuff?" and then it's back to business.

And it gnaws at me how little Scott's death was about Scott. He was hunted and slaughtered for just being there, just because he was an easy mark. Martyn is pretty much remorseless. Ren shows remorse, but it's important to note that his guilt seems less focused around the actual person they just killed but rather is more for himself and the fact that he's "a killer" now. And then back to business. They burn Scott's stuff and don't think about him anymore.

Now, obviously, Ren and Martyn weren't obligated to feel bad for killing someone in a death game (although i think each final death meant more in a lot of ways in third life than any other series), I'm not saying it reflects poorly on them per say. But it is chilling to me how much of a non entity Scott was in this, how (other than martyn's personalized taunting while he was chasing scott which were just kinda cruel on their own) they barely seemed to think about the human person they were killing at all.

Scott easily could have been switched out for a literal actual deer in that scene and very little about the scene would need to be changed.

And I feel like that probably has something to do with Scott's fixation on personal agency (especially over how he dies), right?

[martincrushcameback]

Do the brothers still love animals in your fae au? Also, are Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy also fae, humans, or something else?

All of them are fae, yes, and they do love animals! Fae are always in tune with their forest and more interested in animals than humans because humans have weird rules that go against the forest. animals follow the laws of the forest so they are fascinated by animals.

[hidden-poet]

Animal part 2

Synopsis: After visiting a bathhouse Logan meets you, and the animal within him starts clawing out.

Warnings: not canon, dark!, non-con, a little bit of romantisation of things that should not be romanticized, kidnapping, Dark!logan(jimmy? james?), dom/sub vibes, , female reader who is described quite a bit, rough sex, graphic sex, basically born with little plot, unedited and written in a couple of hours, dead dove to not eat.

Part 1 here

Part 2 (final)

AN: written and posted. Not looked over once.

You were silent the whole way from the plane to his truck. 

It worried him. You should be screaming. Hitting and kicking. But you weren’t. 

Was something wrong with you? 

He opens his old truck's door and you slide into the passenger seat willingly. 

Logan shakes his head as he closes the door. His resolve had softened if you ran now, he would have let you go. But instead, he places the bag into the bed of the truck. 

The car door squeaks as he opens it, and his seat makes a tired sound when he sits down. The car was old and often unused. 

He wondered if you liked motorcycles. He then wondered how often you would really be away from the house. 

“Alrighty then”, he comments, turning the engine over, “All ready?”. 

You don’t answer him, just turn your head to the window. 

The radio playing softly helped to fill the air with something other than the awkward tension.

He wondered why you weren’t crying. Why the begging had stopped. He would have loved to know what was going on inside of your head but you gave him no indication. 

Only when Logan began to drive from the city did you begin to twist your hands together in worry. He at least now knew you had a healthy dose of fear.  

“You hungry?” he asks, “we can stop and get something to eat”.

His offer is ignored. He glances over to see you still as a rock looking out the window.

Snow covered most of the landscape. All you saw was lumps of white and the odd car.

“Hey?”, he questions. He reaches out to place a hand on your knee to draw your attention, you knock your leg from under him, and he retreats his touch back to the steering wheel. 

“Maybe you just want to head home”, he talks to himself. 

“Home?”, you mock, “Where are we going?”

“Westchester county. We’re still about an hour or so from it. You’ll like it there. I’ve got an apartment just up from the school. Nobody will bother us there”. 

“You live near a school?” you ask. 

“Yeah, well I work there actually. It’s a special school. For mutant kids. We teach them how to control their abilities. Given em’ a chance no one else will give”. 

You are quiet for a second, taking the time to pull logans’ jacket tighter around you, trying to fight off the shivers encroaching your body. 

“I voted for mutant rights, you know”, you say. 

Logan reaches to the center console turning the heat as high as it would go. 

“Here , put your hands closer”, he orders. 

He reaches out to take your hands into his but you yank away from his touch. 

“I aint gonna hurt ya” he told you. 

“So long as I do what you want, right?” you quip. 

“No’ Logan protests, “No, no matter what.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms wrapped tightly around yourself. 

Logan leaves it, focusing on the road ahead. 

It’s an hour and a half of silence until he is finally travelling up the windy road to his home. 

The road is covered in snow, and thick forest covers the area. 

The large estate looked out of place in a mysterious and cold atmosphere. 

A warm, inviting glow invited passing buyers to stop. It looked full of life in isolation of the cold dead forest. 

Your eyes were glued to it as Logan drove past. You supposed it would have to be hidden, but you weren’t sure who benefited the most. There were some humans who would do harm to mutants, but there were some mutants who would do harm to humans too. 

“Pretty impressive isn’t it?” Logan asks with a hint of playfulness in his voice. 

“How many students are there?”, you ask, 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a hundred”, Logan guesses. 

“A hundred mutants in just one place”, you say out loud. 

“Kids”, he corrects. His tone carried his annoyance. “A hundred kids in one place”.

You dont say anything further, in fear of upsetting him. 

Logan’s house was high in the mountains. There was nothing but his house and trees.

There was no one around to help. He could do whatever he pleased. You wonder if he would drop the nice guy act. 

He doesn’t. He parks the car, and carries the bags from the back. 

You follow him to the door slowly, he never hurries you. Just occasionally looks back on the journey to the driveway to the front door. 

The house didn’t look large. 3 bedrooms at the most. While the main build was plaster, it had a lot of wooden features. 

The door was a good oak wood, a long wooden bench was pressed up against the entry wall, a dull, yellow light shined from inside a wooden light fixture. 

When Logan opened the door, wooden floor boards greeted you. They squeaked as you entered the home. 

Logan flicks on the lights and you see a wooden table and chairs, an old worn sofa, a beaten up white fridge and rubbish everywhere. 

The bags are dropped to the floor to free his hands to clean. 

He picks up as many empty beer cans he can hold, and throws an old flannel that was thrown across a bar stool over his shoulder. 

“Sorry about the mess” he apologies, “Ah, i wasn’t expecting, ah”

He doesn’t finish his sentence, going to the kitchen to throw the cans away. The kitchen was immediately to the left of the door, an open living concept meant that you never lost eye sight of him as he moved.

“Didn’t think you’d go through with it?” you finished for him. 

Logan sighs, leaning against the counter with his hands. 

“I am not sure what I  was thinking”, he admits. 

“How long do you plan to keep me here for?”, you ask.

Logan shuts his eyes, his hands balled into fists on the counter, “I don’t know, darl”. 

“Right, well” you say without fear, “would you mind if I had a shower? It’s been a long day”.

Logan unravels himself at your request, heading from the kitchen down to the hallway. 

“Follow me”, he orders.

You do and he leads you to the bathroom at the end. It was spacious enough to hold a toilet, bathtub and shower. The floor was white tile, matching the sink. It was kept in good condition. Apart from the toothpaste on the counter, everything was in its place. 

Directly across was a sliding, wooden cupboard that Logan took a brown towel from. 

“The hot water takes a second”, he advises pushing the towel into your hands, “If you need anything let me know. I’ll in the end room”. 

You nod, going to shut the door between you two. He continues to stand there until the door is completely shut in his face. 

The tears that pool in your eyes are finally released. You don’t make a sound but the tears roll down your cheeks as you start the water and begin to take off your clothes. 

You didn’t really know where you were. No one knew where you were. And you were here, trapped with a mutant that commands blades to come out from his hands. He’s strong too, a quick healer and who knows what else. 

How could you possibly fight back against him? 

There was nothing you could do other than obey. He said he was a good guy. You mostly believe him. Perhaps this would be a quick trip and you would be back home within the week. 

The shower helps sooth you. You wished you had all your lotions and shampoos. He had one bottle of the cheapest shampoo on the shelf, and a bar of unscented soap. You use them anyway. 

Your skin felt sticky after everything that you had gone through. 

You turn the shower off and wipe your face clean of your tears before drying off in the towel. 

Your old clothes lay on the floor. You think about putting them on again but you finally feel clean, and what was the point of hiding, he had seen everything before. 

With the towel wrapped around you, you patter down to the end room. Logan was changing the sheets on his queen bed. 

He looks up as he stretches across the bed to fit the sheet. Seeing you standing there in nothing but a towel froze him. 

“Hey”, he says, still unmoving. 

You look around the room rather than at him. 

Logan didn’t have much, and you had a feeling that was a choice. 

The bed had mis-matched sheets, the table on the right side of the bed only had a lamp. There was a set of wooden, built-in cupboards that stretched nearly across the whole wall, you bet there were only a few items in there. 

Logan forgets the bedsheet, crawling off the bed and over to you, dripping wet on his floor. 

His finger hooks under the front of your towel and with an eyebrow raised, he tugs the fabric from you. 

It falls in the heap at your feet. You feel your face turn red as Logan looks over you, saying nothing. 

His eyes flick up after a moment, and he takes a hold of the side of your face, bringing you in for a kiss. 

Your hair drips over him as assaults your lips. You mumble against him but your lips are captured again and again before you could make a full word. 

He steps forward wrapping his arms around you so he could lift your feet off the ground and carry you over to the bed. 

He drops you on the part of the sheet that covers the bed in its unfinished state. 

It doesn’t seem like he was looking at you, as he stands between your legs and unbuckles his belt. 

His eyes cast off just beside where you lay, and a scowl covers his face.

With his pants down, he still doesn’t look at you. He lays his body over yours, and buries his head in your neck. 

His hand grips your thigh over his hip, and his other posts on the bed to keep his weight off you. 

Your hands dig in his hair, taking a firm grip and bracing yourself for his entrance. 

He shoves his entire length in the first go and it knocks an ‘oft’ out of you. 

He never leaves you, quick, needly thrusts jackhammer into you.

You feel so completely full with him inside of you. His body cages you, you felt you could do nothing more than take it. 

Logan grunts fill your ears. You had no space to even move your head to quieten the sounds. 

In his rush, his white t-shirt stayed on, you could feel the faint outline of his dog tags as he pressed against you.

You began to get sensitive, the more stimulated you got. Your hips bucked away from the pressure, but Logan's strong grip made escape impossible. 

“Stay fucking still”, he comanded. 

You do. Letting him runt into you, until he finally came with a soft moan. 

Your hands drop from his hair onto the bed but he remains in the same position. His face buried into your neck and his cock buried into your cunt.  

“You alright?” he asks in a soft voice against your neck. 

“I need another shower”, you comment. 

Logan lets you have the bed to yourself. He makes a make-shift cot on the floor beside you.

The sheets smell nice, although they are old and worn. 

His packing of your bags was done hastily and in a clouded mindset. You have four pairs of jeans, six tops, a handful of handerwear, a pair of leggings that were stuffed in with the jeans, and a grey singlet. No toiletries and only the brah you wore.

He had promised to take you to the shops to collect what you need, but he didn’t say when. For now you wore your leggings and one of his clean flannel shirts.

He leaves the lamp on for you and puts an extra blanket on the end of the bed in case you got cold during the night. 

The night was quiet. No car, nor animal could be heard outside. You were completely alone here. 

You wondered if Logan was asleep. It had been at least an hour since he last spoke or tossed. 

You turn to look at him on the floor. He looked asleep. His eyes were closed and his hand rested on his chest. 

He was quite handsome. It was too bad he was a mutant. 

You had nothing against them before this. That could have been because you had never come across one. But who could say? He looked so normal. 

How many other men in the bathhouses were mutants? How many thought about doing what he has done because no one could stop them?

You turn back away from him, the salt of your tears running down to your lips.

How hopeless it all felt. The only reason you worked for the bathhouse in a strange city was in the search of freedom and independence. Now it has cost you exactly that.

Who knows if he would even let you live after this. If he was one of the good mutants, who fought for man-kind, could he risk having this slip up against his name?

You sob at the image of his sharp claws digging through your stomach. 

“Hey” you hear Logan call, but you couldn’t stop crying. He leaps up from the floor and nestles up behind you. 

“Hey, stop that. It’s alright”, his arms goes under your pillow and his hand brushes the hair back again and again while he speaks into your ear, “Sh, it’s alright. Just go to sleep”. 

With his petting, and long day, your eyes droop into a restless sleep. 

—------

Once you woke the next morning, Logan was still in the bed with you.

His arm slung over your waist and his other under your pillow. 

You rise without him. Going out to the living room where living alone meant anything could go anywhere. 

You think about making a run for it, but it is zero degrees outside and you had no idea where you were going. The closest thing was the school, and you know mutants protect their own kind. 

Instead, you begin to tidy up. You begin with the rubbish which makes a huge difference. 

The kitchen had a dishwasher and you begin a new cycle with the dirty dinnerware.  Most of them were empty cups. He seemed to like coffee and alcohol more than food. 

You take inventory of his food. Most of it was out of date. You had wanted toast but the bread was moldy and the butter was scrapped bare. 

You open a can of peaches and eat those instead. You hoped he would make good on his shopping promise. 

Three peach slices in, you hear his bare feet as they bound against the floor. 

He looks frazzled reaching the living room.  His hands grip the frame of the entry as he brings himself to a halt seeing you in the kitchen. Only in his boxes and white shirt, he gazes at you like you were the one who was crazy. 

“You’re still here”, he comments. 

You pop another peach slice in your mouth before answering, “yep”. 

“You should have left”, he accuses. 

“Would I have got far?” you ask. 

He straightens up as he thinks about it, his hand comes off the door as he makes his way towards you. 

“No”, he confirms. 

He looks around the room in its tidy state, “Christ” he complains, throwing up his hands, “You didn’t have to. I don’t expect you to do things like that for me”. 

“I know what you expect from me”, you bite. 

“Hm”, he hums, once again avoiding eye contact with you as he walks your way.  

When he reaches you, he places both hands on the counter either side of you, trapping you once more. 

“Whatch’a eating?”. 

You hold a peach slice on your fork to show him. He leans forward, taking the peach into his mouth. 

“You want eggs?”, he asks. 

You nod your head, and he pushes back against the counter away from you. 

He takes the egg carton out of the beaten fridge along with mushrooms that had seen fresher days. 

The fridge door is kicked closed and you realise why it is in such bad shape. The ingredients are dumped on the kitchen counter in front of you. 

He takes a large knife out of the draw and throws it to the bench before reaching behind you to take a wooden chopping board that you had used for display. 

“You do the eggs, I’ll chop the mushroom”, you offer. 

“You like mushrooms?” he questioned as he reached for a plastic bowl. 

You nod once more and begin your task of slicing the mushrooms. You cut off the bad parts which leave only a small amount of mushrooms left. 

Logan whisks the eggs with salt and pepper in the bowl. 

“Did you sleep okay last night?”, he disrupts the peaceful quietness of focusing on the tasks.

“As good as can be expected”, you answer. 

He clears his throat, looking at the eggs as he speaks, “I’ll take you shopping today, if you want. We can go into town”.

He reaches for the mushrooms. You don’t think, you only do and pick up the knife driving it into his lower stomach. 

He grunts as its lodges but he shows no other physical effects. 

Blood leaks from the wound, redding his white shirt. With an eye roll he yanks the knife from himself and throws it into the sink. 

“That’s incredible” you say. The large wound should bleed furiously but it looked like it had stopped already. You raise his shirt enough to see the wound had already healed. Not a scar in its place. 

“Look, bub, I don’t mind a bit of foreplay but how about a warning next time, huh?”, he snaps. 

‘Does it hurt?”

“Yes” he grunts, shoving your hand away from his shirt.  “But lucky, I am a fast healer”. 

“What else can you do?” you ask once more. 

Logan falls away exasperated, “Look, you want eggs or not?”

He forgets the mushrooms and pours the egg mixture onto a pan. 

“I am sorry”, although you weren’t sure why, “I didn’t think it would hurt you”. 

“You want an omelet?”, he avoids the topic. 

He scraps the egg around the plan, attempting to flip it but the egg rips apart and falls back into the man. 

“You want scrambled eggs?” he jokes. 

You huff, looking at the egg in the pan. 

“However the chef prepares it, is fine”, you tease. 

He smiles at you, the knife incident long forgotten. 

You both eat at the table. Neither one of you having anything to say. 

“So, ah, I have to go to the school for a bit. I've been M.I.A for a while now” Logan says. 

He used to hate the thought of responsibility, being tied down by something but now it gave him a sense of purpose. The kids needed him. The school gave him a home, and he wouldn’t disregard that.

You nod your head. You could care less what he did. 

“What do you teach?”, you ask. 

“History” he answers, “I also help train them. Teach em’ how to use their abilities for good”.

“You said you did bad things. That doesn’t sound bad”.

“Yeah well, some people don’t want to be taught”, he growls. 

“Ah” you acknowledge, “You’re a mutant killer. “

“I am something”, he mutters. His appetite is gone so he pushes his plate away from him and takes a sip of his coffee. 

“So whats your plan?”, you ask him, poking at your eggs. 

“I’ll only be gone a few hours, after that we can go to town”.

“No”, you interject, “I mean for me. After all this”. 

He wasn’t sure how to answer. How could he tell you there was no after this? That he would do anything to keep you. 

“Bub”, he states, “I’ll never hurt you. I can promise you that”.

You look at him, unbelieving but say nothing more. 

He gets up from his chair and holds out his hand for you. 

“I want to show you something”, he explains. 

Curious, you take his hand and lead you back to his bedroom closet where he digs through to find a thermal jacket and a beanie. 

He places the beanie on your head and wraps the jacket over you. You stand there drawing in the material while he digs further into his messy closet. 

He finds what he is looking for with a satisfied grunt and produces thermal pants.

“What are you doing?” you ask him as he helps you step into the pants. 

“I just want to show you something” he repeats. 

Now dressed he takes your hand and leads you to the front door, where he stops to take big heavy boots from a line of perfectly organized shoes. 

“Logan”, you question in a tense voice. 

He continues to place the shoes on your feet, tying the laces as tight as they would go. 

With a sigh, he rises, reaching for the door and swinging it wide open. 

The cold air blows in. Snow covered the landscape, but had stopped falling from the sky a while ago. Yet everything remained frozen. 

“Go”, he states. He peers at you softly, bringing the hood of the coat up. His touch is gentle, and it leaves you quickly.

“Go?” you question. 

Where would you go to? You decided against running this morning, why would you now take the chance?

“Go” he repeats, “Don’t worry, I’ll come after you. I just want to show you what’s going to happen if you decide to leave while I am gone”.

You decide maybe you should go. It would be a good opportunity to test his limits. See what he can really do. 

You slip past him, running out to the surrounding forest. 

He makes no move to follow you. When you look back, he is still there watching from the doorway. 

When you could see nothing but trees, you realise that this was stupid. 

You had no idea where you were. How could you get to safety? You didnt even know if you were heading in the right direction. You were heading down from the mountain but once you got to the bottom would you reach a clearing? Your best hope was that a passing car would come, but you didn’t see any on the way here, what would be the chances of crossing one when you really needed it. 

Still Logan was a strange man, you shouldn’t give up, just because the odds seem impossible. 

You pick up a large branch and smooth over the snow, easing your footprints. 

The journey was cold. The wind picked up adding to your misery. You wondered if he let you go so you could die in the woods. You heard nothing as the wind howled, saw nothing but white. 

He was either giving you a wide head start or he simply wasn’t following at all. You couldn’t decide what was worse. 

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted you felt as if you were being watched but couldn’t see anyone or anything. 

Your feet pick up pace, the branch brushes your footprints away with ferocity. 

It’s in your head, you told yourself. You would have seen or heard him if he was close. 

When you feel hands on your hips with such strength that it stops you from moving, you second guess yourself. 

“Gotcha”, his voice teased. He leans down to your ear and softly bites your helix 

With a push to your hips, you are thrown into snow beneath you. 

You turn to face him, crawling backwards with the branch in your hand. 

“How?” you ask him. 

He follows with an amused expression on his face. He was dressed in only his jeans, a grey singlet and an overlay of a flannel. Yet he showed no signs of being cold. 

“Bub, there’s not a single place on this earth that you can go that I wont find you”. 

He raises his foot and presses it down on the branch you clung to. 

You stop crawling. 

“I believe you” you state, looking up at him. 

“Get up”, he tells you.

You don’t move, despite the snow melting into your protective gear and frozen hands. 

He drops to his knees in front of you. You preferred the distance when he stood but when you began to crawl back, he grabbed your ankles and slid you back over the snow. 

Once you were close enough, he leaned his body over you trappin you between him and the snow.

With his hands in the snow on either side of your head, he leans down to the side of your head and whispers in your ear. 

“You want it in the snow?” he coos. 

You push back against his shoulders when he reaches for the waistband of your pants. It doesn’t deter him so you raise your hand to slap him across the face. 

You don’t think he even registered it but you cry out in pain as the ripple effect shoots down your arm. 

“Careful” he tuts.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you up into a sitting position. You clutch your sore hand to your chest, and crouches in front of you, swiping his thumb across your lips. 

He gets up fully, reaching for the button of his jeans, his pubic hair springing out with no underpants on. 

“We’ll make it quick” he promises you.

You think about fighting but remember your sore hand, and past half an hour alone in the snow. 

Instead, you kneel into position. He seems surprised at your compliance as he positions himself in front of you. He lowers his jeans just enough to free his member, and you take it into mouth. 

He grunts as you behind to suck, throwing his head back. His hands dig into your hair to keep you there as you work your mouth around him. 

“You feel so good”, he sighs, almost reluctantly. 

Your tongue pads around him, you feel his cock twitch. 

The quiet atmosphere is broken by the sound of your wet mouth working him. 

The more worked up he got, the harsher the hold on your hair hurt to the point of pain. 

You try to pry the hold off. You thought he would know he was hurting you, but with his head turned to the sky, you weren’t even sure that he could feel your hands yanking at his finger. 

You stop, opening your mouth but unable to move your head. 

His next groan was angry, and he flings his gaze down at you. If his cock wasnt still in your mouth, you would have explained yourself.

He didn’t give you the opportunity, using the hold on your head, he drags you over to the nearest tree. You dont have enough time to get your bearing before your head is knocked into the tree as stopping point and he thrusts his hips into your mouth. 

Sitting on your bottom against the tree, rather then on your knees, you lose a lot of leverage. His pull on your hair keeps you from slumping as he drives his length into you. 

You begin to suck again, hoping to get him off so he would get off you. 

This wasn’t logan, this was the wolverine. An animal driven only by his needs. 

Your sucking calmed him a bit. His thrusts slowed and he rests his forehead against the tree with his eyes closed shut. 

He comes without a sound. No great groan that lets you know his salty cum was coming. 

He steps back, gathering himself. While he zips his jeans, you lay against the tree with his taste in your mouth. 

“Come on” he says softly. He picks you up and stands you on your feet. 

With a hold on your arm, he leads you back to the house. 

The thirty minute journey was walked in silence.

You wondered if he really wanted to show you his strength or if he just wanted an excuse.

He seemed eager to get back. It felt as if he was pulling you behind.

Once you reach the doorway, you are out of breath from his pace. 

He is fine, however, his breath even but his eyes clouded and angry.

The door was left unlocked, not giving you a second of reprieve as he pushes past it. 

As soon as you are through the threshold, he turns and pushes it close behind you before striping you of your layers.

“More?” you question as his needy hands push you towards the couch. 

“Baby, I am just getting started”, he answers. 

The arm of the couch takes out your knees as you are pushed over it. Logan climbs on top, going straight to your neck.

“What about the school?” you breathe. 

“Fuck the school”, he says, nestling himself between your legs. 

He rises only to take off his shirts, and reach for yours. 

Your bare chest is attacked with his lips while his hands reach for your pants. 

His hips buck into your soaked panties, the heat almost driving you insane. 

Did he have some mutant power to make you react this way? It confused you which upset you. You shouldn't be confused. You shouldn’t want him. 

You didn’t realise your pussy was bare until he enters you. 

You claw at his back as he thrusts into you. It seemed to encourage him.

“You’re so beautiful”, he says, “feel so good around me”. 

His brutal thrusts could not be slowed. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders trying to ease the force from his thrusts. 

Your head was no longer on the cushion of the couch but dug into his neck, completely wrapping yourself around his body. 

All too soon, you unravel around him but his cock continues to drive into you. 

Your moan couldnt be stopped. Your position meant it went directly into his ear. 

His chuckle tickles the shell of your ear. He thrusts now too harshly into your sensitive pussy. 

His hand wraps its way into the back of your head and he yanks you back down into the couch. 

With you there, the hand travels down to your clint and he begins rubbing while he thrust his cock in and out of you. 

You whine in pain from the over stimulation. Being pushished  for coming too quickly. 

You push against his hand with your own, begging him to stop. 

He does stop only to grab your hand and brings it down into your own wetness. 

“You do it” he demands. 

You cry out again, unable to form words as his cock spears into you. 

His grip is too tight to pull back although you try. 

“Do it” he commands again. 

You do as he asks, using your pointer to swirl around clint as he pounds you. 

With a free hand, he massages your breast, pinching at the nipple and rolling the flesh in his hand. 

“Don’t stop”, he orders as your hand stills, ‘keep going, thats a good girl”. 

Your tears pool. It was a bittersweet type of torture but torture all the same. 

Through your blurry eyes you could see him focusing on not hurting you. Fighting with himself to keep the animal in check enough to not hurt you. 

With a handful of your breast, he explodes inside of you and his thrusts stop, giving your sore pussy a break. 

He leans over you once more this time out of breath. You put your hand up on his chest, your finger slick with your wetness. 

You pant with him, your tears slowly choking you.

“You alright, darl’n?” Logan was back. The animal going to sleep after his victory. 

A sob croaks out of your throat. 

His eyes meet yours as his thumb wipes away your falling tears. 

“It’s alright, sh, it’s alright.”. 

He kisses your cheek softly before helping you up off the couch. 

“Lets get you cleaned up. Alright”, he says, gently leading you to the bathroom. 

You already were undressed so he turns on the shower. Cold water comes out at first and he holds you close while it turns hot. 

Your head rests on his chest and he wraps both arms around your shoulders. He keeps the position as he enters the stream. You sob quietly against him as you both stand under the water.

When you finally stop, Logan uses one hand to cup the water to wash your face. 

You look up at his hazel eyes, somewhere beneath them, the beast looks back. 

Freshly showered, you are dressed in another pair of your leggings and short shirt and placed back into bed. 

Logan lays next to you, back in jeans and a white singlet, not saying anything. 

A hard knock on the door breaks the stillness and you sit up in bed, surprised there was someone, anyone, out here. 

‘I’ll get it. Stay here”, he directs. 

He could smell the scent of the school lingering as he neared the door. He wondered which teacher was sent to lecture him or if Alexander took the time to do it himself.

The sight of three school kids was a surprise. 

He knew them well. Barely 16 but thought they knew the world. 

‘What are you doing here?”, he growls at them.

“When are you coming back to school?” Nortan asked. He was a funny looking kids with glasses too big, and a long torso that towered him over his classmates. He could break his particles apart and disappear into the air. 

“When I feel like it”, Logan quips. 

“You were supposed to be back today”, Lucy demanded, “We organised a class party”. 

She had the longest black hair Logan had ever seen. Smart as a whip but a massive stick in the mud. Her parents were accountants, and avoided talking about Lucy’s ability to turn her body into mental on command. 

“I am sure you all had a great time without me” Logan answers, going to shut the door on the children. 

Lucy’s mental hand wedged itself between the door and the frame, preventing it from shutting. Logan sighs. Children were a pain in the ass. Due to his mutation he could never breed, and now he feels grateful for it. 

“Is there something you want kids? What do I gotta do to get you off my doorstep?”he scolds.

“We want you to come back”, Lucy demands. 

The third boy, big and impossibly strong, now with a driver licence nodded his head in agreement. He said very little but heard everything that went on around him. 

“I’ll be back on monday. I promise. Now get back to school before I get called to go look for you”, he sho’s the children away. 

“If you are not back on Monday, we’ll bring the whole class to you”, Lucy threatens as the door closes in her face. 

“Yeah, yeah”, Logan dismisses. 

With that dealt with he goes to the kitchen and turns the jug on. He finds his prettiest cup and puts a tea bag in it while he waits for the water to boil. 

Your scream jolts his heart. He runs to you, claws out and at the ready. 

You stood in the middle of the bedroom with your hands covering your mouth, staring at the young boy in front of you. 

Norton stands there frozen. Mouth half a gap, shocked to see you.

“Get out of here!” Logan screams. 

Norton disappears into particles again, going out the same way he came in. 

Logan puts away his claws, rushing over to take you into his arms as you cry from the surprise. 

With one hand on the back of your head, and the other wrapped securely around your shoulders, he holds you close, speaking gently. 

“It’s alright. It’s alright. It was just a kid. You're safe”. 

“I hate mutants”, you sob, “all of you”. 

“Yeah” logan sighs, “I know”. 

—--------------

“Hey Bub” logan calls as he heads to the door, “I am going out for a smoke”. 

He lights the cigar as soon as his feet land on the porch. The past four years he has lived here, he has always smoked inside. The fresh air felt nice as he puffed away. 

He liked having you here. It brought him a sense of peace that he had long abandoned. 

A few seconds later, the door opens again and you appear wearing his winter coat. You stand awkwardly against the wall without a word. 

He is cautious of the smoke that blows over to you, and takes a few steps away, hiding the cigar down below his leg to stop its contamination. 

You scoff at him. 

“Really? worried about second hand smoke”, you taunt. 

“I heal, you don’t” he reminds you. 

“Who’s to say? Maybe smoking is your weakness and you die from good old cancer, just like the rest of us”. 

Logan takes another puff of his cigar, blowing the smoke back out. 

“Been smoking these for 60 odd years, haven’t killed me yet”.

“What?” you say astonished, “ 60 years?”.

“Nothing, forget it”, Logan dismissed. He felt embarrassed to admit his age. He was a dirty old man that didn’t deserve to touch the skin of you. 

“You going to tell me you can fly next” you muse. 

Logan laughs, taking another puff before answering, “I’ve been thrown from enough heights to know I definitely don’t fly”. 

The cold air has turned your nose pink, and a strong wind blew cold air down your jacket.

You sniffle as you pull it tighter around yourself. Logan, who is adaptable to the weather, stands unshaken. 

“It’s cold, why don’t you head back inside”, he says, pointing his cigar to the door. 

“Why don’t you stop telling me what to do? You have these intense mood swings. I never know who I am going to get Mr nice guy or Mr shut up and take it”, you bite. 

Logan sucks on his cigar, puffing away his frustrations. 

“I don’t know what you do to me, but I am not like that”, he argues. 

“Oh so it’s my fault?”, you mock 

“Christ, I didn’t say that” he waves the cigar in the air, losing interest as it burns, “You say you never know who you’re going to get, while neither do I. I’m-” Logan takes another drag of his cigar before finishing his sentence, you wait patiently for him, “I’m not myself around you. I am something entirely different. A thing I thought I left behind years ago”. 

“An animal” you deduct. 

“Yeah” Logan says in a hard voice, having another puff. 

“The wolverine”, you continue. 

Logan reaches up to take his dog tags in his hand. He couldn’t remember how he got the name, but he was stamped with it for life. 

“Go back inside”, he demanded. 

This time you do. 

—----------------------

Logan takes you to the shop first thing the next morning, letting you fill the shopping trolley with anything you like. 

He pushes the trolley behind you as you scan the aisle. He waits for a scream, a worried look given to a fellow shopper but  you remain calm and your eyes train on a bottle of shampoo as you read the label. 

He wondered what he would do if you did decide to show resistance. He tells himself he wouldn’t fight to keep you. Mutants already had a bad wrap, he didn’t need to make it worse. 

Although, he doubted he could do it. Just the image of someone standing between you and him had the pain in his hands shooting out. 

“Logan?” his name falls on deaf ears, so you try again, “logan?”

“Huh? What?” He answers, finally looking at you.

“Do you have a preference on body wash?”, you repeat, 

“Ah, no, whatever”. 

You throw the bottle into the cart and move down the aisle. 

“Look whats wrong with you?”, he asks in an accusatory tone. 

An elderly women makes her way down past them and Logan quietens his voice so no one can hear. 

“Why haven’t you tried to get away? You should do something”, he demands. 

“Ah, i’ve got Logan today”, you announce moving further down. 

“You’ve got Logan every day”. He follows you slowly, wheeling the trolley in front of him. 

“Bub, you should try”, he pesters. 

You stop in your tracks entirely, staring at him. Without a word, you approach him, coming up to his side and running your finger across his knuckles in answer. 

“I wouldn’t”, he breathes. 

Again you are silent. Just looking at the puzzle of a man in front of you. 

“Stay then”, you tell him. 

You break away from Logan, walking forward from him. 

He stands still, doing as he is told. He watches you as you walk away in no particular hurry. 

You get to the end of the aisle before his feet involuntarily move after you. 

You laugh at him as he catches up, but he feels the heat of embarrassment and shame. 

Like a stray dog, he chases after you. With matted fur and baring teeth.

—---------------------------

You help Logan inside with the groceries. Your addition to his life brought twice the stuff. 

The empty pantry was now full again, the bathroom racks had more than one type of shampoo and your toothbrush sat proudly next to his. 

It was a life Logan had long forgotten about. This place had felt like solitary confinement, a punishment for being a dangerous dog, but now it was a home. A place he could return to once the killing was done. 

He shows his appreciation by backing you into the corner of the kitchen counter by your hips and kissing you deeply. 

He doesn’t know why he did it, but he bit down on your lower lip, drawing blood. 

You made a startling sound, the pain of your lip almost instant. 

He pulls back shocked that he did such a thing. You look up at him, tears in your eyes and a quivering lip. 

“Shit”, he expressed, “Bub, I am sorry”.

He rushes to go get some paper towel to stop the bleeding. 

“Let me have a look”. 

You dont allow him. Pulling your head back. He takes your chin in his hand and pulls your head back to him. 

“I am sorry. I don’t know why I did that’, he apologized as he pressed the white paper towel to your lower lip. 

You don’t accept it, crying loudly. 

“Please, I am sorry”, he begs, “it wont happen again”. 

 You take the paper towel and press it to your lip yourself. Unable to form words. 

Logan takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving the side of your head a gentle kiss. 

“Shit, Logan”, you scold. 

He can feel you trying to push away but he won't allow you to. Why did he have to ruin everything he touched? 

“I am sorry”, he says again. 

He pulls back to take your chin between his fingers to examine the bite. It has split your lower lip, leaving a nasty red line through the pink flesh. 

“Bub-I-”, he stumbles, “I am so sorry. I’ll never hurt you again”.

“Move”, you told him in a stern voice. 

He does at once, and push past him to the bedroom. 

He gives you space for the rest of the night. Going out to the porch to smoke cigar after cigar. 

It gave you freedom to potter in the kitchen to make your dinner. 

He felt so guilty as you slammed draws shut. He was still unsure what possessed him to bite down. Until you reacted, he hadn’t realised his teeth were sinking into your lip. 

What else would he do carelessly? How long before he did something fatal? 

He should have let you disappear at the store. If he was a better man, he would have got in his car and left. But as time proved again, and again, he was not a good man. He was underversing of all good things, so why wouldn’t he keep a tight grip on you?

He would just have to learn to be more cautious. To watch what he is doing at all times. The animal within him would be put on a leash. No one, not even him, would hurt you again. 

Logan rubs out his lit cigar on the wood of the porch, throwing the end into his ashtray and going back inside. 

You don’t pay him any attention, continuing to stir a sauce in a pan with no acknowledgement. 

It was the silence that he hated. He could take abuse. But to treat him as if he didn’t exist was cruel. 

Even as he came closer, you pretended not to notice him. 

When he picks you up and places you on the counter, it does earn your attention. You stare at him in surprise as he edges his way between your legs. 

“I am sorry”, he repeats again. He kisses you this time gently, showing you he can control himself. 

“I am sorry”, once more, as he tugs you into him with a pull of your thighs.

“I only ever want to make you feel good”, he promises, his lips moving to your neck. 

To his surprise, you pull him closer, your fingers wrap themselves into his hair, and your legs entrap him where he stood. 

He takes it as permission to move his hands to the button of your jeans. 

You make no comment as he pulls them off, disregarding them on the floor. 

His own jeans prove harder to undo with the small space allowed, but he manages, and he closes the cold gap between your bodies. 

His lips continue their way around your body, kissing every inch he could find. Your breaths become ragged, and your fingers become stiff in his hair.

“You want it?” he asks, before he inserts himself. His tip slides through your thickness, shooting electricity through your body. 

“Logan”, you whine, pressing your head back into the kitchen cabinets. 

“I asked you a question”, he snapped. He needed to hear it. That you didn’t think he was a completely unworthy, unloved, animal. That the initial attraction at the bath house was all in his head. He needed to hear you wanted him, even one tenth as much as he wanted you. 

“Yes, please”, you beg, “please”. 

He groans as he sinks himself into you. He keeps his pace, even and gentle, watching your face for any discomfort. 

He found none. You kept your eyes closed and your fingers tugged at his hair almost in encouragement. 

The sauce makes an awful sound as it boils over, your eyes shoot open, watching as it spills over the sides. 

“Logan” you complain. 

He blindly reaches for the handle, not stopping his pace, and shoves it off the heat. 

You bear it no more mind, moving your fingers from his hair to his arms. 

This time you kiss him. He tastes the blood as your lip reopens causing him to pull back away from you.  

Shame fills him once more, and he is forced to bury his head into your collar bone to hide his face. 

“Oh princess”, he complains. His hands ball at your shirt, keeping a statue form so he remained in control at all times. 

“Logan”, you moan as an orgasm approaches. 

 He reaches up to place both hands on the side of your neck, feeling your pulse beneath his finger tips. 

It quickens as you come. Your sweet sounds fill his ears. For a second he continues, but he feels your hips begin to pull away. 

He forces himself to pull out. You hated the overstimulation, he knew that but driven by instinct he often continued until he got his fill. Not today. Today, Logan would remain in control. 

He looks distressed as he yanks himself away from you. His eyes narrow at the floor and his breaths are deep and angry. 

You could see him fighting with himself as he reaches for his pants. He didn’t finish. His need still clear on his face. 

“Hey”, you call. His eyes flicker up to you, and you beckon him to come closer. 

You take him back into your arms. Wrapping one around his shoulders while your hand reached for his cock. 

He shudders as you  stroke him. His hands grip the countertop, scared to touch you in his current state. 

It was so unexpected. Happened so fast he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He rested his forehead against your shoulder. Your scent attacked his nose, driving him into a frenzy. 

Your hand worked its way around his cock. It was still wet with your own cum, making a sloppy sound as you jerked him off. 

He came with a loud groan, the kitchen counter crumbled under the power of his hands, and the wall behind you was punctured by the tip of his claws. 

You yelp as they make impact into the drywood. 

“Sorry, sorry, it’s okay”, he puffs. 

You rest your head back into the cabinet behind you, regaining your breath while Logan tugs away his claws and cock. 

“Clean this up”, you command of him, “I’ll finish dinner”. 

Later that night, Logan draws you a bath, and washes your hair. Wanting you to experience the peace you brought him. 

“Weird to be on the other end”, you comment as his fingers massage the shampoo into your scalp. 

“You just relax, baby’’, he tells you. 

You do, leaning into his soapy touch as he worked the knots out of your neck and shoulders, 

“You know”, you say after a moment, “You said you were going to tell me”. 

“Tell you what?” Logan asks. 

“Everything”, you answer, “I found a box in your cupboard. It was filled with war medals, and old photos”. 

“Jesus, didn’t anyone ever tell you not to touch other people's shit”, he quips. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”. Your comment silenced him. His hands move off you and onto the rag, wringing out all the water. 

“Alright, what do you want to know?”, he relents. 

“How many wars have you been a part of?”, you question him. 

“Too many”.

“That’s not an answer”, you complain. 

“Best one  I’ve got. Here lean back”, he washes the shampoo from your hair gently. Taking his time to do so, to avoid any more questions. 

But as you rise once more into a sitting position, you target him again. 

“How did you become what you are?”, you ask him shyly. 

“I was born this way. At least I think so. There’s a large crucial part I don’t remember. Some story about a general making me into a weapon, but I am not too sure I believe it. I think I’ve always been like this: violent”. 

“You are not violent, Logan”, you protest, turning to look him in the eye, “I am not sure what you are. A stray loyal dog, a man so frightened and lonely. The wolverine”, You lean closer to him, handing over the tub in bare form. 

“All of the above. But not violent”, you reach out with your wet hand to his flannel sleeves, “A violent man could never be as gentle as you can be”.

“I’ve done bad things”, he whispers, “hurt people. Hurt you. I am so sorry, bub”. 

“You are not an animal, Logan”, you state. 

You look at the man in front of you. His big, brown eyes speaking of his hurt. The wolverine was nowhere in sight. Logan knelt before you fully man. A man who had been through so much pain and suffering. The wolverine protected all he loved, but left him with a feeling of being unworthy of it all. 

The men who wanted to use him branded him as an animal. Something they could own and control. But his nature fought back. He wasn’t a weapon, he was a soldier who fought to protect.

He gets up suddenly, stepping into the bath still clothed in jeans and singlet and his flannel. His lips met yours in need which you return and he lays himself across you in the tub. 

You claw at his clothes, helping them off his body. 

The water sloshes around, over the side of the tub, toppling onto the floor. 

You clutch his dog tags in your hands. Your thumb glazes over the indents of his name, while Logans attacks your neck in gentle kisses. 

You flip the metal, feeling the letters on the other side w-o-l-v-e-r-i-n-e. 

—-----------------

The next morning you watch as Logan gets ready to go to work. 

You could tell he was excited, if not nervous to leave you for the day. 

He straightens out his jacket, looking around for anything he might need for the day. 

“I’ll ah leave the keys to the truck here” he states, placing them down on the table, “in case you want to go anywhere”.

In haste, he goes to the door, picking up his motorcycle keys and reaching for the handle. 

“See you, baby”, he says. 

“Hey, Logan”, you call out after him. 

He pauses in the doorway, turning his head to you but leaving his body in flight. 

You walk up to him, still dressed in his t-shirt from bed, and take his face into your hands bringing him in for a kiss. 

“Have a good day”, you tell him. 

“You too”, he grins back, “I’ll be home soon. Wait for me?”.

You nod your head, and with another quick kiss he is on his way. 

You close the door after him to keep the cold out. But you hear the roar of his old motorcycle speed down the driveway. 

—------

Logan tries to keep his mind off you all day. 

He wonders when he returned if you would still be there. He decided it was enough to be loved even for a short time. He couldn’t chase after you. But he would remember you for the rest of his horrible mutant life. 

Still he remembers how his heart pounded, and his feet shifted by themselves at the grocery store. Even with his best intentions, would he be able to stop himself?

He avoids Xavier all day. With his defences so weak he wasn’t sure he could keep the old man out of his head. 

The kids help to distract him. At least while he was focused on helping them, he wasn’t thinking about the potential heartbreak of going home. He was loved here, he knew that. But they loved the wolverine. 

The protector, the leader, the mentor. The animal. The weapon that would keep them all safe.

He smiles through the class party thrown for him, welcoming him back. 

Why couldn’t this be enough? To be a part of a safe haven for kids? He had lived without love for so long, why now did he yearn for it?

The quiet sound of Xaviers chair rolls up next to him. Cornering Logan at his own party. 

“You have been avoiding me”, he states. 

“I’ve been busy”, Logan returns.  

“So I have heard”, Xavier quipped. 

Logan's blood ran cold. How did Xavier know? He was sure to kick Logan out of the x-men. He would be pushed away from the only family he knew, and he deserved every bit of it. 

“Listen”, Logan begins but Xavier interrupts him before he can self incriminate. 

“You should know the children hold you in too high regard to tattle on you. I was worried about you, old friend. So when I heard Norton thinking your name, I couldn’t help myself”, he explained. 

“Professor, I-”, how would he explain this in a light that doesn’t leave him the bad guy. 

“It’s quite alright, Logan. She doesn’t want to leave”, Xavier finally looks at Logan, “I followed you to the grocery store”.

He wheels his chair back, looking to make an exit. “I’ll be checking in from time to time, the second she decides otherwise, I’ll be there, and yes, I am working on your request. How were you going to break that one to me, old boy”. 

Xavier moves on to other guests, but Logan is forced to take a seat.

—----------

Logan lets his last class of the day go early. He himself was eager to get back home. 

He could smell you inside as he put his motorcycle away. The smell of you eases his mind. It was true you didn’t want to leave. Even after everything he had done. 

His hand reaches for the door, but his fingers fail to grasp it. Instead he retreats to the fence of the porch, gazing out to the snow. 

For the longest time, he had no idea who he was. His dog tags the only link to his past life. The professor has helped fill in a few dots. But mostly only brought nightmares of the animal he once was. 

He thought that's all he could be. All he was. 

The wolverine was a part of him, yes, but so was Logan. For the first time, he would discover who he was, not what he could do.

He hears the door open behind him, and your bare feet against the wood. 

“Hey, are you coming in?” you ask him. 

He turns back over his shoulder to look at you. Dressed snuggly in his jacket with his flannel poking out underneath. 

“Come here”, he requests, opening his arms. 

You fall into them easily, and he hugs you tightly against him. 

Kuekuatsu, the word enters his brain. He is unable to shake it. He wonders what it means and where it came from. 

He doesn’t dwell on it too long, as you are pulling him inside, and he follows like a dog on a leash. 

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

}{ Warning for consumption of animal blood.

Part 10 of The Codfather's Court AU

It wasn't that fWhip had followed Pixlriffs around all day with the intention of annoying him. Far from it. But he'd grown used to spending his days needling at Jimmy, who made it quite clear through words or direct action when he was fed up. Pix, though, was more subtle - too subtle for fWhip, who, with Jimmy back in the Codlands, felt suffocated by the peace and quiet that settled over the Codfather's side of the palace in his absence.

He asked questions just to ask them, not bothered by unusually short answers or impatient gestures toward a relevant book or document, attributing the brevity to Pix's focus on his work. He told stories about his many escapades with Sausage, and laughed about the way Gem always lectured them afterwards despite getting up to her own fair share of shenanigans. He shared his misgivings about Sausage's friendship with Xornoth, and sighed wistfully about how much he missed Scott. When lunchtime came and went without Pix so much as glancing at the tray that was brought to him, fWhip wandered closer and leaned over his shoulder for a better look at the documents in front of him.

"Do you always have this much administrative work to do?" fWhip poked at a stack of parchment, admiring the array of colored tints. It was far less boring than the Grimlands, where every document was the same off-white.

"Not everything I do is administrative," said Pix brusquely when fWhip failed to notice the irritated snap of his tail. "I do a lot of preservation work as well. This climate, as you can imagine, is not well-suited for most of the writing materials used by other empires."

"Yeah, I guess water stains might make it a little hard to reference, uh - " fWhip pulled a document closer to peer at its heading. "The rising population of sea urchins in the eastern kelp forests. Fascinating."

His dry sarcasm elicited another lash of Pixlriffs' tail. "Yes. And other reports. Like this year's unusually high egg and infant mortality rate in the outer settlements, attributed largely to several years of famine conditions that occured after salmon troops devastated their farmland using the redstone technology you so helpfully developed."

fWhip drew back at that. "I told you, we thought - " He cut himself off and sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter what I thought at the time. What's done is done." He glanced at the paperwork covering nearly every available inch of the desk's surface, wondering how the Grimlands fared in his absence, and if his inventions were still being funneled to the salmon through Sausage. "Hey, can I write Gem another letter? I want to make sure - "

"No."

fWhip stared at Pix. "What?"

Pix didn't even glance at him, focused again on his writing. "You were fortunate to have been allowed the first one. Jimmy ordered that you refrain from further correspondence."

"He 'ordered'? Gross." fWhip made a face. "Do you just do everything he tells you without question?"

The scratch of Pix's quill came to a halt. "Do I try my best to follow the wishes of my husband, who is also my king and my god? Yes, fWhip, I do."

fWhip rolled his eyes. "Some god. He's an asshole. A short-tempered, short-sighted, grade-fucking-A asshole."

Pixlriffs slowly rose from his seat, but fWhip was too busy stewing in his latest wave of annoyance at Jimmy to notice, and kept talking. "I mean, even you should be a little tired of his bullshit! All this work, so busy you can't even eat one little meal, and for what? A guy who fucks off to the swamp every time he turns around, never taking you with him? Who takes on another lover without warning, and expects you to just deal with it? I mean, did he even ask you if you were okay with it before he - "

He didn't realize he'd been backed into a corner until Pix's hand slammed the wall next to his head. "That's enough."

fWhip stared up at him in shock, reminded that though Pixlriffs was now First Prince of the Codfather's Court, it wasn't so long ago that he was a king himself, and a powerful one at that. The eyes of a lion gleamed at him out of the face of a man, and fWhip was suddenly very aware of why people were often wary of the sphinx even when he smiled at them.

"I devoted myself to Jimmy years ago," Pix growled. "I gave up my throne for him. Gave up the Vigil and the priesthood I worked a lifetime for. Drowned for him. I have earned my place at the Codfather's side. You are here on his whim. Mind yourself, before I remember to put protecting what is mine before being your friend."

"Right. My bad. Sorry," said fWhip with a nervous grin. "I'll...leave you to your work, shall I?" Pixlriffs loomed over him a moment longer before taking a step back, allowing fWhip to scurry for the door.

fWhip kept to himself the next day, eating alone for lunch and expecting dinner to go the same way. He was surprised to see Pix waiting for him in the dining hall, and doubly so to see what dish awaited him at his usual seat - one of his favorites, a fusion between a classic aromatic dish of Mythland and the preferences of the Grimlands. The scent of onions and spices was mouthwatering enough, but it was the small cubes of chicken blood that captured fWhip's attention.

"I hope it's to your liking," said Pix. "The kitchen did their best to work with my description. I recalled you and Gem once discussing it with...great enthusiasm."

Unlike most of the Grimlands, it wasn't animal blood that he and Gem usually added to the meal, but Pix had no way of knowing that. fWhip smiled anyway, touched by the gesture and relieved to see a solution to the growing lethargy he was trying to stave off. It wouldn't restore him to full strength, but it would suffice for now.

"Thank you," said fWhip, and Pix politely pretended he couldn't hear the emotion that choked his voice. "And...I'm sorry about yesterday."

"I'd like to offer my apologies as well." Pix took his seat as fWhip did, his own meal something far less rich in iron. "I was frustrated about something else, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry."

"Nah, I was being a nuisance. I have a natural talent for it, according to Gem." fWhip grinned, then took a bite of his food and sighed happily. "Oh, that's so good I could cry. Anyway, you have more patience with me than anyone I've ever met, except maybe Sausage, and that's only 'cause he's as bad as I am. Kind of surprised you haven't thrown me out a window yet."

Pix chuckled. "I do believe any attempts at defenestration would be thwarted by the fact you can fly."

"Defene - ? What? No, nevermind, you'll probably just give me a riddle instead of a straight answer, and it's too early in the day for that."

"It's nearly sunset."

"Exactly." fWhip stretched out his leathery wings and gave them an experimental flap. "I'm probably a bit rusty, anyway. I haven't been able to fly since I've been here. Hey, I don't suppose...?"

Pix rested his chin on one hand and looked at fWhip's wings thoughtfully. "Perhaps. I'm sure I can come up with something that will please both you and Jimmy."

fWhip stabbed a slice of onion with his fork, trying to wait out the wave of annoyance he felt at the reminder that ultimately, it was Jimmy's decisions and opinions that controlled his every move so long as he remained here. The chicken blood on his plate suddenly felt like less of a relief and more of a temporary emergency patch. He needed to find a solution, and fast, or he was going to be stuck in the Ocean Empire for a very long time.