#logan howlett x original female character

[werdlewrites]

ł ฿Ɇ₵Ø₥Ɇ ĐɆ₳₮Ⱨ - ₱₳Ɽ₮ ₮ⱧⱤɆɆ

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

summary: He couldn’t live in peace knowing what he'd done. Unable to enjoy a stupid party with a pretty girl without the flashbacks of war plaguing his mind. He wasn’t the kind of guy anyone should want–or have. Logan was a monster. warnings: alcohol, smoking, brief NSFW, mentions of blood and death wc: 2,341

Previous - Next

The night was long–nearly endless. Dawn had made it home safely without trouble like she always did with the presence of Death creeping at her back. The apartment echoes with emptiness–soon filled by tumbling shoes as she kicks them off, and the heavy sighs of relief. Charlotte doesn't stumble through the door until her roommate is already tucked into bed, yet knowing she's still awake, she calls out, “I'm home!” She only receives a mumbled reply in return.

Dawn lies awake for most of the night. Tossing and turning with her mind replaying the events of the day, her heart nearly beating free from her chest as she debates over what will happen to her come Monday morning. Cast out of the school and shamed, unable to show her face again. It leaves her chest aching–constricted and emptied of air, yet filled with consuming fear. It fills every space, leaving her in a momentary panic.

It’s October–but her body is burning up. Dawn kicks away the sheets and flips onto her stomach, arms clung tightly around a folded-up pillow for a sense of comfort. It’s not nearly enough. Her heartbeat is somehow louder and more disruptive. Thoughts fuzzy and unfocused–until something familiar creeps in. 

The smell of earth–nature. The smell of wood caught on fire–a delicious spice on her tongue as she drinks it in. A tired mind fights for recollection–a moment in time where she could place it. It’s there, just barely. In the dim light of night, the moon casts a glow through an uncovered window, adorning clothes from only hours ago laid out over the edge of a hamper. It’s a bizarre sign from the universe. Taking an unsettled mind and forcing it to think on something that brought her some joy–even if it was brief. 

The smell of Logan lingers, as does his rough but soothing voice. That particular look in his eye that says he’s curious–but keeping some distance for either his or her protection. It’s insanity the way his smirk suddenly fills her mind. Or the way his tongue glides along his lips after a shot of whiskey to collect the remnants.

The warmth of overworked nerves is replaced by something else–a scorching need building up in the pit of her stomach, spreading outward like a fire until she's squirming, seeking something–anything. She doesn’t even notice the sudden rotation of her hips. Acting on autopilot to quench a thirst–a desire between her thighs.

The gentle movements are enough to spark that small fire until it’s burning up her insides. The air sucked from her lungs as the smoke of lust creeps in–all-consuming and suffocating. Her cheek is damp from open-mouthed whimpers, but it's the last worry on her mind as desperation forces her hand. A gentle touch glides along the front of her underwear with thoughts drifting to him and what his hands would feel like. 

Was it soft and delicate? Sweet kisses masked by the scratch of his beard, heavy breath along her neck with passionate words pulling her in closer. Would he treat her like this? Knowing exactly where to touch and what to say. Letting her grind down into his hand until she’s come down from her high, whispering reassurance.

Was it rough and heated? Barely giving one another the chance to strip their bodies of clothing before she’s bent over and onto her knees. Would her skin grow flush from the contact of his hand? Bite marks of temporary claim that would be long gone by morning. Their bruises would be the only reminder it had ever happened. Would she ache for that breathless feeling? Chasing after one another until they’ve exhausted every ounce of strength.

By morning, Dawn is glowing. You couldn’t tell the girl had lost an ounce of sleep, smiling from ear to ear. Her roommate pried for the details over coffee–not getting a solid enough answer, which only aggravates Charlotte more. She wears a look of pure annoyance, glancing in the other woman's direction as they decorate for the upcoming party. It’s when she asks about the potential of meeting someone that Dawn finally breaks and confesses the details of her night. No matter how small they were.

“You invited him over?” She asks with a look of pure joy and surprise.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

Charlotte leans against the door frame, arms folded across her chest with streamers hung from her fists. “You’re over here smilin’ like a schoolgirl with a crush, and it’s not a big deal?”

Rolling her eyes, Dawn steps down from the ladder, rolling away the spare pieces of tape stuck to her fingertips. “I hardly know him. It’s just…fun, s’all.” 

Fun is hardly how she would describe it. She was antsy–fidgeting or pacing nonstop as she searched for something to do–anything to pass the time. Dawn was giddy and full of excitement about the possibility of seeing him. The entire scenario is playing out in her head like a silly movie. She’d be lost in the music–no longer focusing on his arrival as she takes another shot, and he’d part the dancing bodies like the sea.

But by the third hour of the party–the real party, he’s not there. There’s no thunderous knock of his large fist against the door or the smell of his cigar. He’s not standing just at the corner of the room, watching and imprinting every sight to memory. The man named Logan is simply a story, and she can’t hide from the look of pity Charlotte gives her as she pours another drink into an empty cup.

Maybe she's a little hurt–maybe she feels foolish for being so affected by his absence. He's a stranger, after all. But she's already tipping that red cup back and singing along to another song. She's living without care–or is it a mask to hide the fear? A wary eye on the image of Death, hoping the night won't end in tragedy with a friend splayed out across the floor, blue in the face.

The following day, he's a distant memory–at least, for a short while he is.

Dawn is too lost in her hangover to acknowledge the ache of disappointment in her chest. Already forgetting hazy dreams where she reaches out to him, just to feel the heat of his body. But her bed is cold just like the day before–and long before that. In some way, it almost feels like every smile he spared was only a figment of her imagination. There had never been a Logan she shared salty snacks with at the bar. She chased after a hallucination. Thighs dampened by an illusion.

But the smell of his cigar stuck to every fiber of her coat, taunting her as she debated over tossing it into the washer with the rest of her dirty laundry. It’s the only proof she has of him.

When the day passes and the apartment is cleaned, she makes up some excuse to brave the cold winds of November. Charlotte is too tired to question–laid out along the sofa with legs dangling over the edge. She simply waves her hand dismissively, eyes half-opened, as she fights off an overdue nap.

Dawn can’t help but scold herself for the slouch of her shoulders once she enters that bar. There’s no leather jacket and wisp of black hair among the crowd. New faces and familiars fill up the space–but it surprisingly feels empty. He’s gone–and it’s disheartening. Why is it disheartening? The woman knows little to nothing about him, yet there’s still a tug on her heart, seeking to pull her right out the door and into the night. Maybe it’s just the excitement of something new. She can’t quite understand it.

She takes up her usual spot on the stool with a defeated sigh. She was slumped forward between two bodies that engage in separate conversations, loud and full of energy. There’s a forced smile in Barry’s direction, shaking her head as he holds up a glass suggestively. One Halloween and birthday bash was enough for the remainder of the week.

“I'm just tryin’ t'find my way.”

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was all it ever would be. Just two souls passing in the night, and she’d have to accept that. Add his face to the list of people she admired but could never touch.

Maybe it was better that way.

Iced water lands before her, kindly offered by the owner with an all-knowing smirk of just how intoxicated she had been the night before. She tilts the glass in thanks, and as it hits her tongue, something in the air seems to shift. The bell above the door chimes as another customer strolls in–the smell of something deliciously familiar in the distance. That familiar spice filling her senses and washing over her tongue. She’s hardly given the chance to inspect before his voice pulls her from scattered thoughts.

“Lookin’ for somebody?”

He stands tall at her back–an intimidating presence with a smirk on his face. She could hear it in his tone.

“That depends,” she begins. Her body easily twists to get a better look at him, proving her suspicion right as the cigar hangs from between his lips. “Do I have somebody t’look for?”

His smile is unwavering, though his gaze shifts to the stranger at her side. Smoke comes spilling out as he speaks, “Hey, bub.” A firm tap on the man's shoulder, luring in hazy eyes and seeming almost startled by him. “D’you mind if I-?” His finger gestures towards the girl and the occupied seat, his tone suggesting but eyes demanding–and the man doesn’t hesitate.

“Oh! Yeah, here.” He pulls himself away, beer in hand, as he effortlessly transitions back into his previous conversation, though casting a glance or two over his shoulder, unnerved by the once silent bystander.

“You didn’t show.” 

The words fly past her lips before she’s even thought it all through. Not even a “Hello” before she’s digging through misplaced feelings and biting her tongue. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. A thick brow raises with curiosity, a silent encouragement for the woman to continue. “I was looking forward t’see your costume.”

He chuckles, and it’s like a song. Working every string in her soul until she feels the flutter of soaring notes within her chest–a choir. A familiar feeling from that night creeping in, leaving her cheeks flushed before she was downing her water in large gulps, desperate to beat the heat.

“Do I look like a costume kind of guy?” he questions before taking another drag. It's an awful habit some women turn their noses up at. But there's an odd sense of comfort in the smell–thinking back to cozy fires in a home that no longer existed.

“Maybe.” She answers with a casual shrug. “Maybe like a…pirate or something.” 

He gives her a pointed look. Amused by the thought of where her mind has wandered in their short time apart. “You'd look good in a patch.”

It happens before she can stop it. A sudden drop of the lowest level compliment possible, and still, she has to turn away and hide her embarrassment. Unaware of the crooked grin he wears or the sudden spark in his dark eyes. Dawn wanted to crawl into a hole and forget it ever happened. While he found it endearing and sweet.

“You think so? No hook or nothin’? Peg leg?” 

She swallows her pride, along with the racing heart that is suddenly lurched up into her throat, just to face him again. She wears a brave face, but the stutter and weariness in her voice betrayed her. “D-dancin’ with a peg leg sounds…hard. Especially while drinking.”

He snorts, averting a blazing stare down toward the end of the bar, a simple raise of his fingers asking for a drink. It’s a well-known look for the frequent flyer. “M’not really a party kind of guy.”

“Then what kind of guy are you?”

The glass meets his palm, filled with ice yet still warmed by the water from being recently cleaned. He thinks of the fresh blood on his hands–he can see it even now. The blaring music turns into the sound of gunfire and the clash of blades–the crackle of a roaring fire. The eruption of laughter at his back transitions into the cries of pain and horror from his past–the thing he runs from. 

The lives he's taken–whether by his own hand or from a failure to ever speak up until it was too late. Until the body count had grown and towered high above him and every mercenary he stood alongside. He couldn’t live in peace knowing what he'd done. Unable to enjoy a stupid party with a pretty girl without the flashbacks of war plaguing his mind. He wasn’t the kind of guy anyone should want–or have. Logan was a monster.

“I’ll tell you what I think,” she begins, successfully pulling him out from the darkness of his mind, looking to the ray of sunlight at his side. “I think you enjoy the noise. You do busy work–loud work. Nonstop, all day. But you don’t go home–you come here instead. Then, when you get home, the radio goes on. The TV, anything–but it’s low. Loud enough to keep your mind busy, but quiet enough t’let you fall asleep on the couch. You just hate socializing.”

It’s the first time his smile falls in her presence–though not out of offense or disturbance, more so…intrigue. “And you’re sayin’ I could be the serial killer?”

“I’m sayin’ I know the type.” Her body tilts away from him, now facing forward to study their muddled reflection in dirtied glass. He’s got his eyes on her, lips parted and words stolen right from his tongue–and she sees something else standing in the distance. A familiar creature with dancing stars where a heart should be. The thing that she searches for in moments of uncertainty–yet despises for the pain it brings. “Because I’m the same way.”

[wolvbrattxx]

Family matters (part one)

Hi! My name is May and this is my first time writing something here, but I felt very inspired after seeing so many talented people posting their fics, so I wanted to give it a try as well! Just a fair warning: this story doesn't follow the storyline of the X-Men films. It's just a mixture of everything and surely imagination, but I guess that's why fanfictions are our spaces to experiment, right? The beautiful model is @/richonm on Instagram. Summary: After the awakening and the slumber of the Dark Phoenix, Logan begins to question his role and worth in life. His thoughts are shortly interrupted by the arrival of Ororo's twin sister Loren. Each form their first impressions of one another, but Loren's perspective is ruined by Scott's burst of anger at Logan. Will they make up for the awful introduction? Tags: angst, Hugh Jackman!Logan, poor self-worth, swearing, cheating, oc x canon. Word count: 4510 Next chapter

Logan opened his heavy eyes. His head was throbbing from the amount of sleep that he got this night, which was considered impressive, remembering that most of his nights were filled with nightmares and sleepless hours. He blinked at the celling for a few times and slowly sat up on the bed, feeling exhausted and refreshed at the same time.

Honestly, if anyone saw him at this very moment, they would think that Logan had a terrible night. Muscles felt sore all over as his hands held him up on the mattress, eye bags were dark and swollen, eyes bloodshot and the hair disheveled. He sighed, out of all times, in relief.

A low groan escaped his dry lips as the throb in his head hit a deep spot. His eyes looked out of the window; the day has already started. The students were chattering, playing outside in the early autumn. It seemed like nothing ever happened, as if everything was fine and that this school, where everyone like him lived, was ordinary. Except that it wasn't.

'The Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters' was home to many like Logan, but it had seen many problems. It seemed like an ordinary school for kids and home for many more; however, it usually fell into trouble, because it was actually a shelter for outcasts of the society - so called 'mutants'. The price for being different was too high: resulting in losing lives of your beloved ones or your own. Regardless, they all seemed to forget the traumas, tragedies and live on, because what else can you do? As danger becomes a part of your daily life, all you are left to do is to embrace it, try to get rid of it and enjoy everything else that you are left of.

Logan finally got up from bed and looked at the mirror, hanging on the wall that was about to break at any minute as many other things that he owned in this room. Constant nightmares and stress make him lose composure, that's why even walls were marked by his claws. He keeps fighting these lifeless objects as if they were enemies that appeared during the nights, wearing the faces and silhouettes of his past abusers, but today was different... Everything seemed fine; there was no need to clean up the room. It comforted him in a sense. As Logan stared into the mirror, he thought of how thankful he felt that everything went well yesterday. Even though some were harmed in the process, some may require healing, but it will turn out okay in the end. Even though he looks terrible right now and for all that has happened not so long ago he has to take the blame for, at least his friends were safe and sound for now.

The event that occurred until yesterday involved the awakening of the Dark Phoenix, though previously Jean Grey was presumed deceased. It turned out that Scott Summer's arrival at her deathplace triggered the revival of Dark Phoenix, but with the help of Charles Xavier, she was put under control. Although Scott was harmed during the incident, still he was alive and was healing slowly. However, Logan's sympathy for Jean's complicated situation (seeing her helpless, powerless, even if this state belonged to Dark Phoenix), regardless of the professor warning him countless times, made him awaken the shadow of his beloved one and all went downhill afterwards. Nevertheless, with the help of the remaining X-Men and the professor, the chaos, that could have ended in the world's destruction, was put under control and as per usual: the heroes saved the day.

Even though Scott was the first one to trigger the Dark Phoenix, but he did it without knowing, meanwhile Logan awakened her, fully acknowledging the problems she could cause to the entire world. He felt terrible, especially when Jean fell into coma after putting her shadow under deep slumber. It felt devastating to him, knowing that he brought trouble to his friends and beloved one, and wanted to eat himself up in guilt and shame. However, a tiny voice within said that it would be no help, so all he's left with is a feeling of gratitude that he managed to fix everything with his team.

Logan walked into the bathroom that was next to his room. He turned on the faucet, watching how the water flowed into the drains and washed his face with stinging cold water while trying to get rid of the soreness. For the first time cold water didn't bring up those horrible memories of the past and actually brought refreshment that was necessary at the moment. He looked up at the mirror again, that was now above the sink and checked out the situation of his sideburns and remaining beard. It was time to trim and shave, as he had to spend few days out of the mansion, forgetting to maintain his appearance. Logan curled fingers into a fist and felt how the blades escaped through knuckles. Sharp claws sprung in front of his face and he put them to action, carefully trimming his sideburns. Yet he still managed to cut himself in the process, though the result looked good enough.

The blood, gently dripping down his chin, made something turn inside his intestines. Maybe the burden of having those metal claws and seeing people die because of them or maybe the feeling of being a burden to those that he loved. Logan huffed, holding his head in those rough hands, slightly pulling at the roots of his hair. After such a long time he felt tired, tired of everything that has happened so far. He was afraid that his presence has put a heavy weight on those that he cared about.

As Logan cleaned the sink, his thoughts were disturbed by the sudden knock on his door. He still wasn't dressed, but it didn't matter. He walked up to the door to his room and opened the door slightly, only peeping his head out and hiding the rest of his body behind.

Logan's eyes met Ororo's. Her icy blue eyes felt like a ray of sunshine and it was surprising to see her in such joyful state, remembering the previous events. He smiled softly at her, ignoring that glimpse of strangeness in her gaze.

"The sun has already risen and you are still..." She didn't finish, crossing arms over her chest, cocking a brow at him.

"Mornin' to you too." Logan mumbled underneath his breath, with a tiny grin. "What brings you here?"

Ororo shook her head and chuckled at his stupid face. She clasped her hands together, finally showing the pure joy that she was trying to hide before.

"Get dressed; I want you to meet someone. Someone that is so dear to me and who will finally come back in few hours!"

"Excited over me meeting your lover?" Logan chuckled.

"Oh please... It's someone far more important that a lover. It's a part of my family and since you are a part of my family, you have to meet her."

Logan furrowed his brows and stared at Ororo with curiosity. Out of touch with the reality, he slightly leaned against the door, revealing his bare hip.

"Her? What do you mean her?"

Ororo's eyes widen as he almost revealed himself to the hallway. She looked around, to make sure that there were no students around and glared at him, shutting her lips tightly into a thin line.

Logan took the gesture and grasped the situation. He hid behind the door fully again, not losing the curiosity that caught him before.

Ororo sighed softly, shaking her head slowly with an amused smile on that bright face. She wanted to laugh at Logan, seeing how lost, confused and out of touch he was with all that surrounded him. She was sure that he had the best sleep: it was clear that events like the one that happened could make one so exhausted, that the night can pass with delightful dreams.

"It's my sister. I believe I have told you about her before?"

"Oh, not at all."

"Are you sure? Then there were too many things in my head, I'm surprised that I never told you anything about her. I remember when I first met the others I couldn't shut up about my sister, because she spend most of her time studying. Scott even asked me to stop, but... Who could ever stop the storm?" She winked at him after the remark. "If anyone could get an award for worshiping their sister, then I would be the first one to take it. Believe me, my sister means more than the whole world to me. I don't even want to imagine losing her, I believe that I wouldn't bear it... Anyway."

"That's family for you."

"I suppose so. Well then, get ready; I want you to make a good impression of yourself. I told her a lot of good things about you, so don't disappoint me. She can be... Judgmental sometimes. We are a little different after all." Ororo waved her hand as she walked into the hallway.

Logan stood there for few seconds. If Ororo wanted him to meet her sister that bad, then maybe it would be wise to follow her wishes.

He closed the door behind and stretched his sore body. As he done that, he opened the wardrobe and picked out his everyday clothing: plain flare jeans, white tank top, his favorite leather jacket, brown leather shoes. Even if Ororo wanted him to wear something different, he would find it difficult to do, since there weren't a lot of options for him. He clasped an old belt, as he pulled those old jeans up on his hips.

Logan walked up to the mirror on the wall once more and checked out his hair, which he brushed slightly, bringing it back to place. Luckily, he took care of his beard before so all he was left to do is leave the room and wait until Ororo will reach him again.

Logan walked from side to side, lost in thoughts of how his life was going. Greeting the students, having chats with some, small talks with others, but time passed surely slowly. He went outside for some time, walking from one oak tree to another, throwing rocks at the pond and kicking some that got in his way. Everyone that saw him thought that something bad happened to him, which isn't entirely a lie. He grieved at the thought that Jean has chosen another, but in a sense, he understood why. It's not even worth to compare himself to Scott. Scott was a great person, a great leader, a great group member and of course, a great lover. Loyal, smart, strong and ambitious, but Logan? Sure, he could be all of those things, but he tends to cause problems and slack off, even unwillingly. Leaving for a year or so, without any news of when he'll come back... That's not someone who Jean deserves. She deserves someone better, someone like Scott. Dang, if someone even deserved Logan then... That person definitely wouldn't have any self-respect. And that made him upset. Logan loved Jean, truly, such a smart, brave and outstanding woman that helped him to discover his past. He loved the way that she put words into a coherent sentence, the way she looked when she thought of something serious, the way that she laughed at his awful jokes and the way her eyes looked at him. However, if Jean would ever try to show the same affection to Logan as before, he would be the one to reject, because in no universe should Logan be with such an excellent woman as Jean. No, only Scott would make her happy and he was sure of it. He would make a good partner, a good husband, father and friend. Regardless of their previous conflicts, Logan always envied Scott's traits that seemed unachievable. He wished to be somewhat like Scott, but... He is just himself and that's not enough. Not enough to keep his beloved ones safe, that's why he felt doomed to be alone and forgotten, unloved for the rest of the eternity.

Logan sighed as these thoughts raced through his head and he didn't even realize that he was in the kitchen, rubbing his temples while trying to find alcohol. He was sure that it laid somewhere in the cupboards. And he struggled in front of Rogue and Remy, not even sensing their existence behind his back, even though they chatting loudly of something surely playful.

"Tough night, suga'?" Rogue paid attention to Logan's mood, as he was searching for his only comfort. She leaned against the counter while smirking at Remy.

"Ma cherie, he was awfully quiet this night, so maybe something happened during the day?" Gambit followed the man with his red eyes though his voice sounded serious.

Logan chuckled softly at both of them, maintaining a small smile and still facing his back at them.

"You two better tell me where is-"

"Gone. Your hidin' spots are getting worse, ya' know?" Rogue clicked her tongue as she raised an empty bottle and put it on the counter with a thud, making sure that Logan would turn his head.

And he did. And he was disappointed.

"Someone's gotta' pay for that."

"Calm down, all we wanted to do is to relax. I mean, we did help Jean and now we are awaiting for a good friend of our's after all, is that right, ma cherie?" Remy caressed Rogue's thigh softly, as she was ruffled her frizzy hair.

"Are y'all talking about Storm's sister?" Logan asked, gripping the counter, while his eyes observed the lovers.

"Course', she is a part of our one big ole' family after all. Our pretty gal' was studyin' for couple of years, tryin' to get a degree or somethin'." Rogue replied with a smirk on her face.

"Seems like her welcoming means a lot to everyone."

"Like Rogue said, she's a part of the family. Not to mention, gives a huge helping hand to the team though she may seem... Weak at first, but trust me... That's not the case. God, she can cause a bigger storm than her sister. She's the opposite of Ororo, but has the same passion and love. You'll get used to it." Gambit added while studying Logan's face.

This mysterious sister of Ororo peaked Logan's interest. He couldn't imagine how Storm could have a sister that was the antonym of her being, as he previously thought of this woman being somewhat similar to her sister.

Logan wandered around the mansion again, leaving the lovers to themselves. He didn't even realize how he suddenly stopped at Ororo's classroom, waiting when her class would end. Luckily it didn't last for long, because soon enough the door swung open and students ran out of the classroom, chattering loudly about they will do during their short break and what to prepare for the upcoming class.

Logan walked into Ororo's classroom and leaned against one of the desk, waiting for her to pack up and collect the students' papers before the next class. She lifted her eyes up and flinched suddenly, causing a thunder outside. She quickly grasped the situation and sighed in relief that it was only Logan. Her attention came back to her table as she shook off the tremble.

"You startled me, but I'm glad that you came in time."

Logan raised his hands up.

"I'm no threat."

"Oh I know that, but I'm already tensed up, I just can't wait to meet her again! Let's go, I'm afraid that she is already here and I'm not the first one to hug her!" Ororo clung onto Logan's arm and dragged him out in a hurry, even forgetting to close the door behind herself. That's how excited she was to finally reunite with her sister.

As they rushed to the main entrance, Logan seemed surprised to find most of the team members waiting for Ororo sister's arrival. Even Scott managed to get up from his bed with bandages, pillars on both sides of his body. The only person that was missing from the big picture was Jean.

Finally, the main doors pushed open.

Ororo's sister turned out to be her identical twin, but even physically, you couldn't count the differences on fingers. She was slimmer from her complexion, as Ororo was more muscular. The sister had the same blue eyes that were covered by glasses, but their gaze seemed cold as ice, analytical, critical. The pixie white hair contrasted with Ororo's long silky hair, but it matched her overall appearance: she wore a blue striped button-up shirt that made her breast pop-out; low-rise flare jeans; black heels with white socks; long golden earrings, an amber necklace, a watch, surprisingly long sharp nails. All seemed to fall into place with her dark skin which complimented her even more. She wore a cocky grin on her face as those icy eyes absorbed everything and everyone in front of her, but as soon as she spotted Ororo, that expression softened. She let go of all luggage that she was dragging and ran to Ororo, hugging her tightly in her embrace. You could even think that small tears formed in her eyes.

"Finally you came back, I missed you so much!" Ororo laughed, as the sister was pulling her into a tight hug, making her lightly gasp for air.

"You know that I wouldn't leave you forever." Her sister finally loosened her grip and held Ororo's cheeks instead, kissing each one of them.

Ororo laughed joyfully and pulled her sister away, turning her to greet all the others that were waiting for their turns.

She went round and round, trying to catch up with each one of them, giving out kisses and embraces. Out of all, she greeted Hank the friendliest. She pulled his shirt down to her level and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he was forced to lean down and hug her waist, planting kisses on his cheeks.

"Beloved! Missed me, haven't you? You'll have to show me what you've been up to lately; I'll have a hard time trying to catch up with your work."

He chuckled nervously, patting her back carefully with his large hands. "All is well, my dear. You'll be fine"

And finally she stood in front of Logan, reaching out a hand for him to grasp. Comparing her previous attitude, she seemed serious, but you could see the glimpse of interest in her eyes. He accepted her hand that was soft and warm. "You must be the new guy that Ororo told me about, Logan, right? I am Loren, Ororo's twin."

"I figured." Logan shook her hand lightly. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She let go of his hand. He felt a pang of disappointment in his chest as he imagined that this sister of Ororo's would at least try to make a short conversation. He shook off the feeling with a tiny hope that they would catch up later on, after all, she wants to greet everyone that she was close with and for now Logan was just a stranger.

Right now Loren approached Scott with slight worry. Scott tried to hug Loren, but hissed in the process and gave up quickly due to the pain defeating his intentions.

"What happened while I was gone? Where's Jean?" She asked, not trying to hide the concern.

"Too many things, but don't worry. We're all still here, glad to see you again." Scott smiled softly, trying to smoothen the mood.

Loren took a deep breath and looked at Ororo.

"I remained silent so you could finish your studies with ease. We'll tell you of all that has happened while you were gone, believe me. Let's give Jean a visit, what do you think?" Ororo took her hand and led her towards the school's infirmary.

Logan stalked behind both of them and Hank, as the trio seemed to have a nice conversation that he didn't wish to disturb. He curiously watched Loren laughing and talking loudly, trying to point out more differences that set the sisters apart.

Loren seemed like a strange person. Ororo couldn't hide her emotions well and her face, though tough like a stone, always featured the soft, gentle and motherly aspects of her soul. Loren, on the other hand, was the opposite of that. Sometimes she was serious and at another minute, a pure smile could wash her face. Her natural grim consisted of a stabbing glare, gently furrowed brows, slightly pressed lips, making it look like a natural resting bitch face. Anyone would think that she her face exclaims: "don't approach me or I'll cut you in pieces and destroy your life", not caring about anything else that isn't related to her. Logan doubted that he would ever approach women with such a look, but he saw that Loren is more than her face could portrait. She talks genuinely, placing her words with care, slowly and wisely. The way that she spoke to both Hank and Ororo showed her true nature, which still seemed quite mysterious to Logan.

He didn't even know why he was following them, but someone had to help Scott to go along so Logan gave him a helping hand. Even though it made Scott mumble a couple of insults underneath his breath, Logan didn't mind that at all.

As they finally reached the destination, Loren rushed to Jean's bed, carefully brushing the strands of hair in her face and tucking them behind the ear. Jean's face seemed pale, tired, the dark circles around her eyes made her look like a lying corpse, but the soft breathing proved wrong. Loren gently grasped her hand and caressed it, brushing her thumb against the light skin. "What happened to her?"

"We thought she died. For a long time. One day I came to visit the place where she... I... I don't know how it happened, but I triggered the awakening of the Dark Phoenix and... You can see the outcome of that." Scott spoke first with slight confusion and then glared at Logan. Even though his eyes were covered by glasses, but the daggers that were directed at Logan could be seen by anyone. "The others maintained her, but then this dumbass that you now know of as Logan decided that it would be a good idea to wake her up again, ignoring the warnings of our professor. Mind you, professor gave those warnings directly to you. But you always do what you want, do you? Thinking that you know better... Even though I was laying in bed barely alive, I was still conscious, I've heard everything and seen everything, you fucking bastard. And why did you think that it was a good idea, was it worth the few seconds of pleasure? So Jean would call you a savior or something? That she could climb onto your neck and kiss your lips with such passion as she did? Tell me, you f-"

But Scott couldn't finish the sentence as an ugly cough interrupted his lips and turned into a series of coughs. The anger that boiled inside of him from the moment that he witnessed his beloved one betraying him with Logan finally spilled out, making him suffer not only physically, but mentally as well. As the seizure stopped, he laughed lowly.

"And what did you was going to happen? So what, you two almost fucked right in front of my lifeless body, but in the end, who did she choose? Why did she stop? Oh I know why. I'm going to tell you that right in front of them. It's because she chose me, not you. Now you can fuck off and go where you came from. Piece of shit. If you were here only for her then make sure to note it in your head that she doesn't care about you anymore. She cares about me, so you can do what you want and leave us alone."

Ororo and Hank looked at Scott with horrified faces, making sure that heard everything correctly. Sure, what Logan did was awful, but this is not the place and definitely, not how such information should be presented. Especially to someone who hasn't been home for a while and if you want to make a first good impression of someone, they've never met before. However, Scott didn't care at all. It seemed like he didn't notice his surroundings, only with Logan and Jean present in his eyes. Sadly, Logan was taking up all of that space, the space that he wanted to leave for Jean.

Logan sighed, massaging his tensed forehead. This isn't something that he expected to happen, especially in this setting. However, he didn't fight the allegations thrown at him as he felt that it was necessary to hear them and feel the burden of his actions fall onto shoulders. He didn't want it to be like this, but it was very much needed and he knew it. It was upsetting, depressing sure, but he had to pay the consequences of his actions.

The only problem, that they weren't alone.

Loren's upper lip twitched as she heard the accusations and her brows furrowed deeper than before as Logan didn't deny them. She was purely disgusted to say the least, that look was written all over her face. She let go of Jean's hand, feeling disappointment in her and even more in Logan.

"So that's what kind of person are you, huh." Loren came in front of him blurring view, blocking Scott behind. She was too close to Logan, making a long pause while her eyes swore and yelled right into his face words that she didn't express. "You shameless brute." Then she turned her back at him, not facing any of her friends. "I don't want to hear any of you; none of you can explain what happened properly without your own versions. I'm going to talk with the professor. Excuse me."

That's all that Loren said to him that day. That's all of the direct contact they've had, but it sure looked awful. Logan felt a stab in his chest when she called him that. The way that her cold eyes pierced right into him made him shudder. He couldn't even hear what Hank was saying to both Scott and himself, it didn't matter at that moment. It felt terrible, knowing that you made a bad impression to someone that you've just met. He huffed, knowing that Scott's words were welldeserved, but to put them in this situation felt just brutal. And surely hurtful. But the look in her eyes... Even if Logan wanted to erase it, he felt as if it burned something deeply within him, leaving yet another scar.

It felt impossible to feel happy with yourself. Maybe it was better this way.

[thefandomfires]

Chapter One of my new Remy Lebeau/Original Female Character fic is up!

In Between The Shadows

Link to Chapter 1

Summary

After a battle with Magneto, the X-men and mutants are accidentally revealed to the world. As the humans try to come to terms with this revelation, some want to make sure the mutants know they’re not welcome.

Neighbors begin to turn on each other and one seemingly human girl, Morana Cain is caught in the crossfire.

With her life is turned upside down, she keeps waking up in random places with no memory of how she got there.

Meanwhile the X-men try and track down a mutant who seems to be methodically taking out humans who express anti-mutant sentiments.

[ladysif8]

Primal Attraction 18+

One late night, as I was aimlessly scrolling through TikTok, I came across those pheromone perfume ads and, of course, a steady stream of Logan TikToks. It sparked something, and thus, Primal Attraction was born.

•Pairing: Logan Howlett/Witch Original Female Character

•Rating: Explicit

•Tags: X-men Universe, Mutants, Wolverine, Witchy Vibes, Familiars, Pheromone Perfume, Smut, Possessive Logan, Kitchen Sex, Unsafe Sex,

•Summary:

Join Logan and Indica as they navigate wild magic, pheromone-fueled chaos, and all the possessive, steamy moments you could ask for. 😏💜 From kitchen counters to sweet (and spicy) moments, this fic is packed with love, laughter, and just a little bit of trouble! 😉

Nestled near the quiet town of Banff, Alberta, stood a small stone cottage that looked as if it had been plucked straight from a fairytale. Its walls were made of weathered gray stones, framed by black trim that outlined the windows and roof. The front door, painted a dark, enchanting shade of purple, seemed to beckon visitors into a world filled with secrets and stories. Towering spruce and cedar trees shaded the house, their branches swaying in the breeze and casting playful patterns of sunlight over the stones, adding to the cottage's timeless, rustic charm.

A large white fence surrounded the cottage, its posts carved with runes—symbols of protection that whispered quiet magic. Just inside the gate, the air was fragrant with rosemary, planted in neat rows that flanked the entrance. Beyond the herbs, a lush garden thrived in vibrant shades of green and purple, showcasing the bounty of each season under the careful, loving care of its gardener. Vegetables and herbs of all kinds flourished, while chickens wandered freely, pecking at the earth and clucking softly, adding a lively touch to the serene scene.

The front porch creaked softly as if welcoming every step, and the feeling of stepping into another time deepened once inside. The cottage was a Victorian-style marvel, with ornate trim that framed doorways and windows, and each room was washed in deep, cozy hues that contrasted beautifully with the streams of natural light pouring in from large windows. Despite the dark colors, the abundance of light bathed the space in a warm, inviting glow, creating a perfect balance between light and shadow. Plants cascaded from every available surface, their leaves catching the sun, adding vibrant splashes of green that enhanced the cottage-core vibe of the home.

The kitchen, a true heart of the home, featured wooden butcher block countertops that gleamed softly in the morning sun. Open shelving lined the walls, filled with an array of jars containing dried herbs, spices, and bubbling jars of sourdough starter. Fresh herbs hung drying from hooks overhead, filling the air with their earthy scent, and vintage copper pots were neatly displayed above the stove. This space invited creativity and comfort, blending Victorian elegance with rustic cottage warmth effortlessly.

Through an open set of double doors, the sunroom awaited like a secret garden within the house. Tall, arched windows lined the walls, reflecting the greens of the outside garden. Sunlight streamed in, warming the terracotta tiles underfoot and casting dappled patterns across the room. Whitewashed wooden beams arched overhead, adorned with delicate hanging plants that swayed gently with every passing breeze. Potted herbs and flowers thrived in every corner, reaching toward the sunlight, while vintage wicker chairs with plush cushions and cozy throws invited you to sit and soak in the serene beauty. The room was alive with the scents of lavender, rosemary, and warm earth—a space where the line between the indoors and nature blurred effortlessly.

In the living room, a large stone fireplace with a sturdy chimney served as the focal point, radiating warmth and comfort. Above the mantel, antique candlesticks and a collection of small curios told stories of the past. A large flat-screen TV subtly blended into the old-world charm of the room, perched on a wall opposite a small, cozy sectional. The sectional was draped in soft throws, flanked by vintage side tables topped with lamps whose intricately detailed shades cast a soft, golden glow. The walls were adorned with pictures of ancestors—sepia-toned portraits in ornate frames, their eyes peering out from the past, lending a sense of history and belonging to the space.

The bathroom was a moody retreat, its dark-painted walls making the space feel like a comforting cocoon. A large window overlooked the side yard, where bees buzzed around vibrant plants that fed them. In front of the window stood a clawfoot tub, its porcelain surface gleaming—a perfect spot to soak and watch the play of light and shadow outside. Plants trailed from shelves and perched on windowsills, their lush greenery offering a refreshing contrast to the deep, moody colors. The tile shower featured eucalyptus hanging from the showerhead, releasing a fresh, invigorating scent with every hot shower. Fluffy towels and neatly arranged bath bombs promised relaxation, making the bathroom a haven of comfort.

Across the hall from the bathroom was the master bedroom, an enchanting space where modern comfort met Victorian elegance. The walls were painted a rich, dramatic black, which made the white ceiling feel all the more expansive. A large, old black vintage iron bed frame took center stage, its frame sturdy and elegant, dressed in soft, inviting bedding. Faux ivy intertwined with delicate fairy lights trailed along the headboard, casting a soft, magical glow that made the room feel like a dream. It was a space designed for rest and escape, every detail thoughtfully considered—from the textures of the bedding to the gentle twinkle of lights that sparkled like stars above.

In one corner of the room, a vintage vanity with an ornate oval mirror stood, its wooden surface polished and rich with age. The vanity was adorned with candles, their soft light flickering gently, casting dancing shadows against the walls. Bottles of perfume, each with intricately designed glass stoppers, sat alongside antique trays holding an array of cosmetics—creams, powders, and delicate brushes. The scene was completed by a plush stool tucked neatly underneath, inviting moments of quiet reflection. It was a space that whispered of old-world glamour and everyday rituals, adding a touch of personal charm to the room.

Tucked away at the end of the hall was a second bedroom, currently storage but maybe one day there would be a little one sleeping in crib.

Sound asleep and nestled in the king-size bed, Indica Howlett lay wrapped in sage green bamboo sheets, a thick, cozy duvet draped over her. The morning sun rose steadily, its rays filtering through the large windows, casting a soft, golden light that danced across the room. Indica shifted slightly, stirring against the warmth of her bed. Her auburn hair, streaked with hints of blonde and woven with a few delicate dreadlocks, fanned out across the pillow in a tousled halo. The sunlight caught the different textures, giving her hair a warm, golden glow. A light dusting of freckles graced her pale skin, adding a touch of character to her serene, peaceful expression.

Beside her, sprawled comfortably on the bed, was a massive ball of black fur: Ranger, her devoted 100-pound German Shepherd. He lay with his legs stretched out and his head nestled near her side, his thick coat shimmering under the morning light. His deep, steady breaths matched the gentle rise and fall of Indica's chest, a quiet rhythm of comfort and companionship. Ranger's ears twitched occasionally, half-listening to the waking world while still lost in his own dreams. His calm, watchful presence added a sense of security to the tranquil setting, his protective instincts ever-present even in sleep.

As the sun climbed higher, Indica slowly drifted from sleep, her mind gradually surfacing as she stretched her limbs under the soft duvet. She arched her back, feeling the satisfying pull of a full-body stretch. Ranger, waking with her, let out a deep, lazy yawn, his jaws stretching wide as he blinked his eyes open. He hopped off the bed with a soft thud, his paws landing lightly on the wooden floor. Stretching out fully, he extended his back legs behind him, his front paws spread wide in a perfect downward dog pose, a picture of relaxed contentment.

Indica shifted to the edge of the bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool floor. She reached out to Ranger, her hand smoothing over his head and sliding gently down to his snout, her fingers sinking into his soft fur. Leaning down, she pressed a light kiss to the bridge of his nose. "Good morning, handsome," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. Ranger's tail wagged slowly at first, then picked up pace, a steady rhythm that matched the easy, calm start to their day.

Glancing at her cell phone on the bedside table, Indica noted the time—a little before 8 AM. She smiled softly, setting the phone back down as she turned her gaze back to Ranger. "Guess what, big guy? Daddy's coming home today." Her voice was filled with quiet excitement. Ranger's ears perked up at the familiar words, and his tail wagged a little faster, as if he understood and shared her anticipation.

Indica pushed herself up from the bed, her long auburn hair tumbling down her back, brushing just above her waist. The soft dreadlocks mixed with loose strands gave her hair a unique, natural look that suited her free-spirited style. The oversized tee she had worn to bed slid up her bare thighs, a cozy, well-loved favorite that moved easily with her every step. She stretched her arms above her head once more, feeling the satisfying pop of her joints as she fully woke up. With a contented sigh, she walked over to the window, her bare feet making a soft, whispering sound against the floor. She paused there, gazing out at the day unfolding beyond the glass. Her heart felt light with the thought of her partner's return, and Ranger by her side, ever her faithful companion in their quiet cottage home.

Her steps were slow and unsteady as she made her way to the bathroom, eyes still half-closed. She relieved her aching bladder with a sigh of relief, the early morning quiet wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. Returning to the bedroom, she caught Ranger's expectant gaze. "Alright, let's get you outside," she murmured, her voice soft with lingering drowsiness. She opened the side door, letting him trot off into the yard with his nose to the ground. She propped the door open slightly, allowing the crisp, cool fall air to creep into the house, its chill brushing against her bare legs and waking her up a bit more.

Indica headed to the kitchen, still groggy but comforted by the familiar routine. She started the coffee pot, the sound of dripping water and the rich aroma of brewing coffee filling the air. She leaned against the counter, arms folded loosely as she waited, savoring the peacefulness of the morning. The early sunlight filtered through the windows, casting soft shadows across the walls and floor, painting everything in gentle, warm hues. Once the coffee was ready, she poured herself a steaming cup, the warmth seeping into her hands as she held the mug close. She called Ranger back inside, and he followed her up the stairs, his nails clicking rhythmically against the hardwood floors as they returned to the bedroom.

Indica settled down at her vintage vanity, the oval mirror reflecting her sleepy expression. She placed her coffee mug carefully beside her, the steam curling up in lazy tendrils. Her reflection showed the early signs of the day—hair tousled with a mix of loose waves and a few dreadlocks that framed her face, her eyes still heavy with sleep. Her gaze shifted to the photo tucked into the corner of the mirror, and a soft smile spread across her lips. The picture captured a perfect moment of herself and her wonderful husband Logan Howlett to the rest of the world Wolverine. Indica's hair in the photo was shorter, falling just past her shoulders in a mix of loose waves and dreadlocks. Her sapphire blue eyes twinkled behind thick-rimmed glasses, radiating happiness and a touch of excitement. The picture captured the moment perfectly—the day they had closed on their little cottage. Indica's smile was wide and genuine, her joy almost leaping off the photograph. Logan stood close behind her, his broad frame nearly enveloping her as he held her tightly, their happiness reflected in the way they clung to each other. His strong arms wrapped snugly around her thick waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. His broad, muscular frame easily dwarfed her, his 6-foot-4 stature slightly hunched to meet her height. His messy brown hair was tousled as if he'd just run his hands through it, and his hazel eyes sparkled with warmth and a touch of mischief, a look she knew well.

The cottage had been a dream come true for both of them, a cozy sanctuary nestled away from the bustle of everyday life. Indica remembered the way Logan had looked at her that day—his hazel eyes soft with love and pride as they signed the final papers. She'd been nervous about such a big commitment, but with Logan, it had all felt right. The excitement of that day still lingered in her mind, and every time she looked at the photo, she could almost feel the warmth of Logan's arms around her again, the thrill of their new beginning captured in that single, perfect moment.

Indica traced her fingers along the edge of the photo, her heart swelling with affection. Logan's presence in the picture felt almost tangible, his grin infectious even in stillness. "Just a few more hours," she whispered to herself, her voice tinged with anticipation and a bit of impatience. The thought of Logan's return filled her with a warm, fluttering excitement. Ranger nudged her leg gently with his nose, his tail wagging softly as if he could sense her mood and shared in her joy.

She took another sip of her coffee, savoring the rich flavor as it spread warmth through her body. The oversized tee she wore to bed shifted slightly, brushing against her bare thighs as she adjusted in her seat. Indica glanced around her bedroom, taking in the soft, golden glow of the morning light that bathed everything in a gentle brightness. The vintage vanity with its oval mirror and scattered candles, the bottles of perfume and cosmetics neatly arranged, the comforting mess of her life—everything felt just right.

Indica hopped happily down the steps, the hem of her high-waisted sage green skirt fluttering with each bounce. The soft cotton fabric swayed around her thighs, catching the morning light as she moved with a buoyant energy. A playful sliver of skin peeked out between the waistband of her skirt and the dark gray square-neck crop top that stretched snugly across her chest, highlighting her natural curves. Around her neck, layers of delicate necklaces shimmered, their pendants catching the light as they gently clinked with her steps, adding a subtle melody to her cheerful rhythm.

Draped over her shoulders, a long black cardigan flowed with her movements, its cozy fabric trailing behind like a soft, comforting shadow. Her bare feet, with black-painted toes peeking out from beneath her skirt, softly tapped against the floor as she hopped down the stairs. Indica's auburn hair was pulled into a carefree bun, beads, and charms woven into her dreadlocks, peeking from the back of her head, adding a touch of whimsy and individuality to her look. The beads glimmered with each step, catching the light, a small yet personal statement of her unique, effortless style.

Indica felt light and free, the crisp fall air brushing against her exposed skin, adding to the sense of renewal that filled her with every step. She couldn't help but smile, her lips curving upwards as she descended the stairs, the thought of Logan's return filling her with a warm, bubbling excitement. Everything about her felt right and true to herself—from the effortlessly chic outfit to the playful sway of her skirt, and the way her jewelry softly tinkled like a gentle reminder of her happiness.

Ranger followed closely behind, his tail wagging in sync with her upbeat pace, his ears perked and alert as if sharing in her joy. Indica glanced back at him, her smile widening at the sight of her loyal companion, and gave him a quick wink. Ranger responded with a soft woof, his tail swishing even faster, matching the light, carefree energy that filled the room.

Indica grabbed her long, wide wicker basket from the kitchen, the familiar weight resting comfortably against her hip as she made her way out the back door. The cool morning air greeted her, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly turned earth.

Indica stepped off the path out her side door and into the dewy grass, the cool moisture kissing her bare feet as she walked further into the yard. She set down her basket and stood still for a moment, arms lifting to her sides with elbows tucked in, palms facing upward. Her chest rose with a slow, deliberate breath as she closed her eyes, her toes flexing into the soft earth beneath her.

She felt it immediately—the hum of energy from the land beneath her feet. The power of Mother Nature surged up from the ground, flowing through her like an ancient current. Indica exhaled slowly, focusing her mind, letting herself connect deeply to the earth. She imagined the energy like roots from a tree, spiraling up into her body, and she soaked it in, drawing it into every fiber of her being.

The warmth of it spread through her, filling her with an undeniable sense of peace, strength, and belonging. The soft energy wrapped around her, soothing, healing, and energizing her all at once. She smiled faintly, feeling the pulse of the earth underfoot, her body vibrating with life as she continued to ground herself in the moment, in the energy freely offered to her.

Like her husband, Indica was a mutant—though her gifts were of a different nature. While Logan's abilities were grounded in raw physicality and survival, hers were ancient and elemental, deeply intertwined with the world itself. She was a witch, and a powerful one at that. She had walked the earth for over a hundred years longer than Logan, carrying the wisdom and power of centuries in her veins. Time had taught her the secrets of nature, the elements, and the mysteries that lay between life and death.

Her skin began to glow faintly, shimmering in the soft morning light, as if absorbing the energy of the earth like a flower soaks in the warmth of the sun. This was not a grand display of power, but a quiet communion with the forces that surrounded her. The centuries she'd lived had taught her patience, control, and a deep respect for the magic she wielded. She knew that true power was not in the loud, explosive moments, but in the quiet, steady strength that came from being in tune with the world around her.

Unlike most mutants, Indica's abilities weren't just tied to her DNA. They were rooted in the ancient magic that had been passed down through generations of witches before her. She could feel the life force of everything around her—the trees, the wind, the animals hidden in the forest—and she could call upon that energy, bending it to her will if the need arose.

But today, she needed nothing more than the peace of connection. Her glowing skin was a testament to the energy she drew from the earth, a soft aura of magic that surrounded her like a protective blanket. Despite the peaceful scene, there was always a wildness in her—an untamed force, like a storm waiting to be unleashed. It was the kind of power that lay dormant until it was needed, and when it was released, it was devastating.

Logan knew that side of her well. He'd often teased her, saying that while he could survive almost anything, it was Indica who truly scared him when she was pushed too far. Her power, unlike his own, wasn't something that could be fought or overpowered. It was subtle but immense, like the slow rise of the tide that you only notice when it's already swept you away.

She wore that power with a quiet grace, moving through life as though she carried the weight of the world effortlessly on her shoulders. And in many ways, she did.

Indica stepped into her garden, the dewy grass cool under her bare, and took in the sight of her plants, thriving in the warm spring sunshine. This was her favorite way to start the day—hands in the soil, surrounded by the quiet hum of nature, and the sense of peace that came with nurturing her little piece of the world.

She crouched down among the rows of vegetables, the hem of her skirt brushing against the soft soil. Carefully, she plucked ripe, plump tomatoes from their vines, placing them gently into her basket. Next, she moved on to the peppers, their vibrant colors standing out against the green leaves. She selected a few zucchinis and squashes, their firm skins still cool from the morning air. A large head of cabbage, nestled among its leafy companions, found its way into the basket as well, along with a few heads of broccoli, their bright green florets crisp and fresh.

Indica then made her way to her herb garden, where the fragrant scent of thyme and lavender filled the air. She snipped generous bundles of each, tucking them carefully into the basket, their earthy and floral scents mingling with the vegetables. She paused for a moment, inhaling deeply, letting the soothing aroma ground her in the quiet morning.

With her basket now brimming with fresh produce and herbs, Indica walked to the chicken coop. She set the basket down on the ground, glancing at Ranger who was never too far away. His watchful eyes tracked her every move, his ears perked and alert, always on guard and always protecting. She smiled at him, a silent thank you for his steadfast presence.

Indica opened the coop, stepping inside to greet her flock. The chickens clucked softly, flapping their wings and pecking at the grain she scattered on the ground. She moved carefully among them, her hands deftly collecting nearly a dozen warm eggs, each one nestled gently into the straw-lined sections of her basket. The chickens clucked in approval, their gentle noises creating a peaceful soundtrack to the morning's tasks.

With her basket full and her chores nearly complete, Indica paused for a moment, soaking in the serenity of her surroundings. Ranger trotted up beside her, his nose twitching at the scent of fresh eggs and herbs. She gave him a gentle pat on the head, appreciating the quiet companionship he offered.

As Indica turned back toward the house, the sun had climbed a little higher in the sky, casting a warm glow over the garden. The light filtered through the leaves, creating dappled patterns on the ground as she walked. She glanced down at Ranger, his loyal form trailing just a step behind her, ever watchful.

"Come along, Ranger," she said softly, her voice carrying the gentle authority of someone who knew he would follow without question. She adjusted the wicker basket on her arm, its weight a pleasant reminder of the morning's harvest.

Ranger perked up at her words, his ears twitching as he fell into step beside her, his presence a comforting shadow. Together, they walked toward the cottage, its cozy silhouette framed by the early morning light. The cool breeze brushed against Indica's skin, the scent of freshly picked herbs and earth mingling in the air, making her feel connected to the land she cherished.

As they approached the back door, Indica paused for a moment, taking in the peaceful scene around her. The garden, the chickens pecking contentedly in their coop, the quiet hum of nature—it was all a part of the life she and Logan had built together.

Pushing the door open, Indica stepped inside with Ranger trailing close behind, his nails clicking softly against the wooden floor. The familiar comfort of the cottage wrapped around them like a warm hug, the scent of home mingling with the fresh air she'd brought in from outside. She moved into the kitchen, the cozy heart of the house, where sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow over the rustic wooden countertops.

Indica set her basket down and began washing the vegetables she'd just picked. The cool water splashed over the tomatoes, peppers, zucchini, squash, cabbage, and broccoli, washing away the last traces of garden soil. She worked with practiced ease, humming softly to herself as she laid each piece out to dry. Once the vegetables were cleaned and set aside, she moved on to her herbs, bundling the thyme and lavender with twine and hanging them by the window to dry. The fragrant bundles swayed gently in the morning breeze, filling the kitchen with their fresh, earthy scent.

After washing her hands, Indica reached for one of her prized jars of sourdough starter sitting on the counter. She cradled it carefully, knowing the effort and care that had gone into nurturing the culture over time. She could already imagine the tangy aroma of fresh bread filling the cottage—a scent that always made the house feel like a true home.

With her sleeves rolled up, Indica began the familiar process of making two loaves of bread and a dozen bagels. She measured the flour with precision, her movements fluid and sure, a dance she had perfected over countless mornings. The dough came together under her hands, soft and pliable, as she kneaded it with care, folding in the promise of a hearty, delicious meal. Ranger watched her from his spot nearby, his eyes tracking her movements, content to keep her company as she worked.

As she shaped the dough into rounds for the bread and bagels, Indica felt a quiet joy settle in her chest. There was something deeply satisfying about creating with her hands, about filling her home with the warmth and comfort of freshly baked bread. She glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of the sun now fully risen, bathing the garden in golden light. With Ranger by her side and the simple, soothing rhythm of her morning chores, Indica felt at peace, eagerly awaiting the moment Logan would walk through the door and make their little cottage feel whole again.

After finishing the bread and bagels, Indica carefully transferred the warm loaves and golden bagels onto the cooling rack, the rich, yeasty aroma filling the kitchen and spilling into every corner of the cottage. The scent mingled with the lingering hints of thyme and lavender from her herbs, creating a comforting, homely blend that made the space feel alive. She wiped her hands on her apron, glanced at the clock, and saw there was still plenty of time before she needed to meet Logan. Deciding to make the most of the morning, she grabbed a light sweater and stepped outside to check the mailbox at the end of the brick path.

Ranger trotted beside her, his ears perked up and tail wagging, alert to every sound and scent around them. The morning sun was now bright and cheerful, warming Indica's skin as she strolled down the brick path lined with wildflowers. Their colorful petals swayed gently in the light breeze, adding splashes of purple, yellow, and pink against the lush green backdrop. Indica couldn't help but feel a sense of peace; mornings like this were what she loved most about their little cottage.

Reaching the mailbox, she opened it and found a small stack of letters along with a neatly wrapped package addressed to her. Curious, Indica tucked the letters under her arm and carefully opened the small box. Inside was a delicate vintage perfume bottle, ornate with a golden cap and a beautifully etched glass design that caught the sunlight. It sparkled softly in her hand, looking like something out of an old movie. She spotted a folded note inside and pulled it out, her heart warming as she read the familiar handwriting: "To Indi, love Nessa."

Indica's smile widened, and a warm feeling spread through her chest. She gently uncapped the bottle and brought it to her nose. The scent was divine—citrusy and sweet with just a hint of wildflowers, bright and refreshing, yet grounded by a soft floral undertone. It was the kind of fragrance that instantly lifted her spirits, light and invigorating, like a small burst of sunshine captured in a bottle. She couldn't resist spraying a little on her wrist, inhaling deeply as the scent settled on her skin. It felt like a personal little gift of happiness, a reminder of her friend's thoughtfulness.

Back inside, Indica set the mail on the kitchen table, still smiling as she glanced at the perfume bottle again. She carefully wrapped the fresh bread and bagels in soft linen cloths, tucking them neatly into their places in the pantry. The kitchen felt cozy and complete, with the fresh loaves on display like a testament to the simple joys of her morning. She paused for a moment, just enjoying the sight and smell of her work, the way the sun streamed through the windows, making everything feel warm and golden.

Realizing she still had a few things to take care of before meeting Logan, Indica grabbed her bag and checked her list of errands. She needed to pick up a few essentials in town—fresh produce, a couple of things from the hardware store, and perhaps a quick stop by the local market for some special treats to welcome Logan home. The day already felt full of promise, and she was eager to make the most of it.

She gave Ranger a gentle pat on the head, feeling the soft fur beneath her fingers, and grabbed her keys from the hook by the door. With a final glance around the cozy kitchen, she headed out the door, her thoughts already drifting to the moment when she'd finally see Logan again. As she walked down the path, the citrusy, floral notes of the perfume lingered in the air around her, mingling with the fresh morning breeze.

Indica climbed into Logan's old, beat-up blue Ford truck, its paint slightly faded but still holding a certain charm. The engine rumbled to life with a reassuring growl, and she steered the truck down the gravel driveway, the wheels kicking up tiny clouds of dust behind her. She drove along the winding road, the crisp mountain air filling her car as she rolled the windows down. The morning sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden light, making the journey to town feel like a serene escape. As she rounded a bend, she spotted a small roadside stand brimming with fresh produce. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the baskets of peaches, their vibrant orange hue gleaming under the sun. She smiled, thinking of Logan and his love for her peach cobbler.

Pulling over, she parked and stepped out, the earthy scent of ripe fruit filling her senses. The old man running the stand greeted her with a friendly smile, and she picked through the peaches, selecting the ripest ones that would be perfect for her cobbler. She paid the vendor and placed the basket of peaches gently in the passenger seat, giving them a fond glance before getting back on the road.

The road into town wound through the picturesque town, framed by the dramatic peaks of the surrounding mountains. The sun shone brightly, casting long shadows of the jagged peaks across the streets. Banff was a quaint, charming place with a mix of rustic and modern elements. Small shops with colorful awnings lined the main street, their windows filled with local crafts, souvenirs, and cozy café signs. The streets were busy with tourists and locals alike, giving the town a lively, vibrant atmosphere.

Indica parked the truck in front of the hardware store, a modest building with a red and white striped awning that offered a touch of old-fashioned charm. She stepped out of the truck, taking a deep breath of the crisp mountain air. The town's fresh scent, a mix of pine and the faint aroma of brewing coffee from nearby cafés, filled her senses.

Indica strolled through the hardware store, scanning the shelves for the items on her list. It didn't take long for her to notice the way the male employees' heads turned as she walked by, their eagerness to assist almost palpable.

One of the workers, a lanky guy with a name tag reading "Evan," approached with a bit too much enthusiasm. "Can I help you find anything, miss?" he asked, his eyes darting over her face and lingering on her form longer than necessary.

Indica offered a polite smile. "Just browsing, thanks," she said, moving on, but she caught him leaning in subtly as if trying to catch a whiff of her perfume. She arched an eyebrow but kept walking, shaking her head slightly.

Further down the aisle, another employee, stockier with a mop of curly hair, was stacking bags of mulch. His eyes drifted south the moment she passed, staring shamelessly at her chest. Indica shot him a pointed look, and he quickly turned back to his task, cheeks reddening as he fumbled with the bags.

By the time she reached the checkout counter, the young cashier couldn't have been more than nineteen and looked utterly flustered. His eyes widened when he saw her, and he stumbled over his words as he tried to make small talk.

"Uh, hi, ma'am! I mean—hey! Uh, find everything okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Indica nodded, placing the bags of chicken feed and dog food on the counter. The cashier's hands shook as he scanned the items, his fingers hitting the wrong keys on the register repeatedly. He mumbled an apology, cheeks turning pink, clearly overwhelmed.

"Uh, s-sorry," he stammered, glancing up at her with wide eyes. He knocked over the pack of gum by the register in his haste, and Indica bit back a small smile, trying not to let her amusement show.

"It's okay," she said gently, passing her card over the reader. The cashier nodded, his hands still shaking as he bagged her items, practically tripping over himself to finish.

Indica smiled softly, trying to put him at ease. "Don't worry about it," she said, watching as he finally managed to ring up her items.

The cashier fumbled with the receipt, dropping it twice before finally handing it over. "Uh, have a great day!" he squeaked out, avoiding eye contact as Indica gave him a kind nod and walked out of the store, the sound of his relieved exhale following her out the door.

Indica took her bags, giving the cashier a nod of thanks as she turned to leave. As she stepped outside, she exhaled a slow breath, shaking her head slightly. The over-the-top attention was almost comical, but she wasn't about to let it get to her.

Driving to the liquor store, Indica noted the mix of calm and hustle that marked the late afternoon in Banff. The store, a modest establishment with a faded sign that read "Banff Liquor Store," had been a regular stop on her errands. Inside, the aisles were neatly stocked with everything from local craft beers to imported wines, and the familiar clinking of bottles filled the air.

As she scanned the shelves for Logan's favorite Molson beer, she became aware of the attention she was drawing. A pair of frat boys, clearly tipsy and a little too eager, followed her movements, their whispers and low chuckles not going unnoticed. Indica kept her focus on the task at hand, pulling two twelve-packs off the shelf and setting them in her cart.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them called out, a smirk plastered on his face. He was tall, with messy blond hair and a backward cap, the epitome of college arrogance. "Need some help with that? Looks heavy for someone like you."

Indica rolled her eyes internally but maintained a polite smile. "No thanks, I've got it." She pushed her cart forward, trying to ignore the way they continued to trail her through the aisles.

The second one, shorter but stockier, with a jersey that looked like it hadn't been washed in days, stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "You know, we could use some company tonight. What do you say? You, us, a couple of drinks... maybe more?"

Indica sighed, her patience wearing thin. "Not interested, guys. Just here to grab some beer and go."

Undeterred, the first guy leaned closer, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that. We're fun. You should give us a chance."

Before Indica could retort, a voice boomed from behind the counter. "Indica! Hey there, kiddo!"

Indica looked up to see Mickey, the store's owner, an older man with a grizzled beard and a cap that seemed permanently affixed to his head. His eyes were sharp as he took in the scene unfolding in his store.

"Everything all right over here?" Mickey asked, his gaze fixed on the frat boys with a steely look that could cut through glass. "These fellas bothering you, Indi?"

The frat boys exchanged uneasy glances, suddenly looking like school kids caught by the principal. Mickey's reputation as a no-nonsense guy—and his long-standing friendship with Logan—clearly struck a nerve.

"Uh, no, we were just talking," the taller one mumbled, his earlier bravado quickly dissipating.

Mickey didn't budge. "Well, how 'bout you talk yourselves right outta my store? Ain't got time for any funny business today."

The frat boys muttered a half-hearted apology, shuffling out of the store with their tails between their legs. Indica watched them leave, shaking her head slightly before turning back to Mickey.

"Thanks, Mickey. Those guys were getting a bit too friendly," Indica said, her voice laced with relief.

Mickey nodded, a wry smile breaking through his gruff demeanor. "Ain't no problem, Indi. I've known Logan too long to let punks like that give you any trouble. You're practically family around here."

As Mickey rang up the beer, he glanced over his shoulder at a small display behind the counter. "Oh, by the way, just got a fresh batch of Logan's cigars in. You want me to add a pack?"

"That'd be great, thanks," Indica replied, genuinely appreciative. She watched as Mickey added the cigars to her purchase, his weathered hands moving with the ease of someone who'd been in the business far too long to be rattled by much.

He handed her the bag, his expression softening. "Take care of yourself, Indi. And tell Logan I said hi. Don't need folks like those boys bothering you 'round here."

Indica smiled, feeling a warmth that came from more than just the friendly gesture. "I will, Mickey. Thanks again."

She headed out, beer and cigars in hand, reflecting on the odd string of encounters that seemed to shadow her day. With a sigh, she started up the truck, the engine rumbling to life as she set off for the small-town grocery store, hoping the rest of her errands would be less eventful.

Indica moved through the grocery store with the ease of someone who'd been through these aisles a hundred times before. She grabbed a bunch of bananas, added them to her basket, and moved toward the leafy greens, mentally going over her list. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, blending into the hum of the store's atmosphere. It was supposed to be a routine trip—get in, get out, and go home. But something was clearly off today; she had been approached multiple times by men she'd never talked to, some men she didn't know from around town.

She could sense him before she saw him.

Indica spotted him lingering by the cucumbers, pretending to look at the produce but clearly watching her, waiting for a moment to pounce. Indica sighed, her grip tightening on her basket. She wasn't in the mood for this.

She ignored him and moved to another section, trying to make it clear she didn't want any interaction. But, of course, that didn't stop him. He followed her, slithering through the aisles like an unwanted shadow. Every turn she made, he was right there, just a step behind.

When she stopped to pick up some apples, she felt his presence even closer than before. She turned, ready to give him the standard cold shoulder, but he was standing too close—way too close. Close enough that she could smell the faint, stale scent of cologne on him; before she could step back, he leaned in, took an audibly deep breath, and sniffed her.

Indica froze for half a second, disbelief flooding her mind. The guy actually sniffed her. This had crossed a line.

"As if the fuck off stamped across my forehead wasn't clear," she said, her voice low and firm, "to leave me alone."

He sneered, his smile creepy and self-assured, as if he thought her irritation was cute. "Aw, come on. I'm just tryin' to talk to ya," he purred, his eyes roving over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "You smell good, by the way.....really...really good."

That was it.

Before he could react, Indica's hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. His cocky expression shifted to shock, his mouth opening in protest as he realized that he wasn't just being grabbed—he was being lifted off the ground.

His feet dangled helplessly a few inches above the grocery store floor, eyes wide with panic as the realization of what was happening sank in. The basket in her other hand dropped to the ground with a thud, apples rolling away, but she didn't care.

"You've been warned," Indica growled, her voice low and deadly. "I've had enough of you following me around like a creep. I told you no. That means no."

The man's eyes flickered in terror as he stared at her, now fully aware that she wasn't just some ordinary woman. There was something else about her, something dangerous. His lips trembled, but he was too stunned to speak. His hands clawed at her grip on his shirt, but it was no use.

"And if you don't leave me alone," Indica added, her voice dropping even lower, "you're going to regret it."

Then, as if to punctuate her throat, her eyes began to glow—a soft, fiery amber that lit up her face with an ethereal intensity. The man's breath hitched, his entire body going rigid as he stared into those glowing eyes, realizing he was dealing with something far beyond his understanding.

"I—I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice shaking as he scrambled to get his words out. "I—I'll leave you alone. I swear."

Indica's lips curled into a tight smile, more predator than anything. "Good."

She released him, and he stumbled back, nearly falling on his ass in his hurry to get away from her. He turned and bolted toward the exit, not bothering to look back as he disappeared into the parking lot.

Indica took a deep breath, the glow in her eyes fading as she collected herself. She glanced around the produce section. A few other shoppers had noticed, some staring wide-eyed, but no one dared approach her.

Grabbing a few items from the ground, Indica shook her head. "Freaks everywhere," she muttered to herself, turning her attention back to her groceries.

She was more than done with this trip—time to head home.

As the X-Jet, the Blackbird, descended smoothly toward a secluded clearing near Logan's cottage, the engines' soft hum filled the cabin. Storm expertly guided the jet down, landing on a tranquil stretch of land surrounded by dense forest, with the rugged peaks of the Rockies visible in the distance. The hatch opened, and Logan was the first to step out, the crisp Canadian air hitting him as he stretched, rolling his shoulders. Scott followed, still grumbling about something Logan had said earlier.

"I'm just saying," Scott argued, his voice tinged with irritation. "There's no way the Leafs are making it to the playoffs this year."

Logan scoffed, grabbing his duffle bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Shows how much you know, Slim. That new goalie they got? Kid's a wall. Mark my words; they'll be there."

Scott rolled his eyes, clearly not interested in Logan's sports opinions. "Yeah, sure. Just like you said, the Bears would win the Super Bowl last year, right? How'd that work out?"

"Hey, that's different," Logan shot back, pausing at the edge of the jet to pull his last cigar from the box. He bit the end off and spat it onto the ground, fishing in his pocket for a lighter. "Bears had injuries; the whole season was a wash."

Scott made a face, crossing his arms as Logan finally got his cigar lit, the tip glowing brightly in the early morning light. "Excuses," Scott muttered under his breath.

Storm, watching their back-and-forth with an amused smile, followed them down the ramp. "Do you two ever stop arguing?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with humor. "You're like an old married couple."

Logan smirked, taking a deep drag of his cigar. "He's just pissed 'cause I'm always right." He exhaled a thick plume of smoke, the scent of tobacco mingling with the crisp mountain air.

Scott snorted, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

Storm turned her attention to Logan, a playful gleam in her eyes. "Speaking of impossible, you got anything special planned for Indica's birthday?"

Logan's expression softened slightly at the mention of Indica. He grinned, his eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "Yeah, I got plans," he said, winking at Storm. "Gonna keep her in bed all day if you catch my drift."

Storm laughed, a musical sound that echoed in the open space around them. "That sounds like you, Logan. Just don't forget the flowers—or something a little more romantic."

Scott made a face, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "I don't know why she puts up with you, Logan. She deserves better."

Logan shot Scott a pointed look, his smirk widening. "Wouldn't you like to know, bub?" he quipped, taking another puff of his cigar. Scott grimaced, looking away with a disgusted shake of his head as if trying to banish the thought entirely.

Jean, Rogue, and Bobby emerged from the jet. Next, Jean's red hair caught the morning light as she descended the ramp. "What's all this about flowers and picnics?" she teased, catching the tail end of Logan's conversation. "You going soft on us, Logan?"

Logan's grin widened as he tapped the ash from his cigar. "Nah, just got a special day planned for Indica," he said, his voice taking on a rare, softer edge. "Found the perfect spot—a field full of wildflowers, tucked away from everything. Place looks damn near magical like it's out of a fairy tale or somethin'."

Rogue smiled, her Southern accent slipping through as she spoke. "Well, ain't that sweet. Ah, never pegged ya for the romantic type, Logan."

Logan shrugged, playing it off. "What can I say? Indica's got a way of bringing that out in me." He took another puff of his cigar, the scent mixing with the fresh mountain air.

Bobby nudged Rogue, smirking. "Logan's got a soft spot; who knew?"

"Watch it, Iceboy," Logan warned, though his tone was more amused than threatening.

Jean looked at Logan, genuinely impressed. "That sounds lovely, Logan. I'm sure she'll love it."

Logan nodded, a flicker of pride in his eyes as he thought of Indica. "Yeah, she will," he said confidently. "Gonna pack a picnic, take her there, and let her just soak it all in. Ain't nothin' she loves more than a place that feels like it's got a story to tell and that field—it's got somethin' special."

Storm gave him an approving look, her smile full of warmth. "That's really sweet, Logan. You know, sometimes you surprise me."

Scott, overhearing the exchange, made a face as if the conversation was almost too much for him. "Wildflowers and picnics? Who knew you had it in you, Logan," he muttered, half-sarcastic but tinged with a reluctant acknowledgment.

Logan shot him a sideways glance, a sly grin still on his face. "Like I said, Slim—you'd be surprised at what I got in me. Indica's just got a way of bringin' it out."

Scott shook his head, his exasperation clear as he turned back toward the jet. "Whatever you say, Logan. Just don't screw it up."

Logan's smirk didn't falter. "Not a chance," he called after him. "See ya around, Scott. Try not to be so uptight."

Storm chuckled, giving Logan a knowing look. "You're a piece of work, Logan. But I think you've got this one right."

Logan nodded, his eyes glinting with determination. "Damn right, I do," he said.

As the group reboarded the jet and took off, the roar of its engines fading into the distance, Logan turned his gaze toward the dirt path leading to his cottage. The wildflowers swayed gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors popping against the lush green of the surrounding forest. It was quite peaceful, a hidden gem tucked away from the rest of the world. Logan took a moment to breathe it all in, imagining Indica's reaction when he brought her here.

Slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder, Logan set off down the dirt path toward his cottage. He'd already planned every detail down to the last sandwich in their picnic basket, and he couldn't wait to see the look on Indica's face when she saw it all. The thought kept him going, his steps steady as he made his way home, the scent of wildflowers lingering in the air and mingling with the faint trace of cigar smoke. Logan couldn't help but smile—it was good to be home.

Logan approached the cottage, the faint crunch of gravel beneath his boots, the only sound breaking the stillness of the morning. The air felt crisp, carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp soil, but as he crossed into the boundary of their property, something else tingled in the air.

It was subtle at first, like the quiet hum of electricity just beneath the surface, but Logan could feel it—an almost tangible buzz of energy. He paused for a moment, taking it in. The sensation was familiar, a steady, comforting pulse that surrounded the land like a protective blanket. Whether it was the intricate protection spell Indica had woven around the property, making it impossible for anyone—man or mutant—to find them unless she allowed it, or whether it was simply Indica channeling her powers today, Logan couldn't quite tell.

Either way, it felt like home.

The energy hummed in his bones, warm and steady, like a quiet heartbeat that matched the rhythm of the forest around them. It wasn't intrusive, just there—always present, always protecting. He knew that as soon as he crossed the invisible line, he was safe. No one could track him here. No one could find them. The spell was old magic, ancient and powerful, like everything Indica did. It wasn't flashy, but it was unbreakable.

As he took another step closer to the cottage, Logan's lips curved into a faint smile. The sensation of the spell, or maybe just the natural energy Indica drew from the earth, wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. He'd never been one for magic, but this? This was different. This was her.

He could feel her essence in the land, in the way the leaves seemed to sway a little softer, in the way the sunlight filtered through the trees just right, casting warm, golden rays across the ground. There was a peace here that he hadn't felt anywhere else—a calmness that settled deep in his chest, reminding him that he wasn't just a wandering soul anymore. He had a place, a home.

And that home was with her.

The closer he got to the cottage, the stronger the buzz became, like a low hum thrumming just beneath the earth. Maybe she was channeling today, grounding herself as she often did, drawing power from the land and sky. Or maybe it was just her presence—her very being—that made everything here feel alive, like the world itself bent to her will in the gentlest, most natural way.

Either way, Logan found comfort in it. It wasn't just the protection or the magic that made him feel at ease. It was knowing she was here that she had created this space for them—a sanctuary away from the chaos of the world.

He took a deep breath, the fresh air filling his lungs as he reached the front door, feeling more grounded with each step. Yeah, this was home. And whatever buzz of energy lingered in the air, he'd never get tired of it. It was Indica. It was them.

And it was exactly where he wanted to be.

As Logan pushed open the cottage door, he couldn't help but announce himself. "I'm home!" he called, his deep voice filling the cozy space.

Almost instantly, Ranger was there to greet him, tail wagging and eyes bright. The German shepherd nudged his leg affectionately, the connection between them more than just a man and his dog. Ranger had been Indica's familiar for as long as Logan could remember, a loyal companion who had walked beside her through countless years. In his past life, Ranger had been a sleek, black cat named Nightshade, or Spicy Cat; Wade liked to joke. Logan had heard the stories of how Nightshade had prowled beside Indica, full of attitude and sass, just as Ranger was now, though in a different form.

"Hey, buddy," Logan murmured, scratching behind the dog's ears as he closed the door with a gentle push, the familiar thud of the purple wood hitting the frame making him chuckle.

That damn purple door.

Logan still remembered the day Indica told him she wanted to paint it purple. He had stood there, paint can in hand, brows furrowed in confusion. "Why in the hell are we painting the front door purple?" he had asked, popping the lid off the can with a little more force than necessary. "Doesn't that throw off the feng shui or whatever?"

Indica had only laughed, that melodic sound that always made him feel lighter. She'd grabbed the paintbrush from his hand and dipped it into the vibrant color. "Purple is a symbol of wealth, prosperity, and peace, Logan. It also represents the magic that lives here, in us, in this space. It's an invitation for those who understand and a warning for those who don't," she explained, her eyes sparkling with that ancient wisdom she carried so effortlessly.

Logan had scratched his chin, still skeptical but trusting her judgment as always. "And the runes? All those carvings you did in the doorframe and throughout the cottage?"

Indica had smiled softly, her fingers tracing one of the intricate symbols carved into the wood. "They're protection. Each one has a purpose—to keep us safe, to ensure no unwanted visitors find us, and to help the house feel... alive. A home, not just a place to live."

Logan had stared at her for a moment, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Well, alright then. Purple it is."

That memory always made him smile. He still got a kick out of how serious she was about those little things, but in the end, it all worked. The cottage was their sanctuary, protected by her magic and the love they'd poured into it.

He was pulled from the memory by the warm, inviting scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. His stomach rumbled in response, the smell filling the small space with a sense of comfort and home. "Babe?" Logan called again, his voice softer this time as he headed toward the kitchen.

"I'm in here!" came Indica's reply, her voice warm and full of life.

Logan smiled, giving Ranger one last pat before making his way down the hallway, eager to find her and sink into the warmth of their little home once more.

Logan stepped into the kitchen and stopped, his gaze falling on Indica. She stood at the counter, her delicate hands working a crumble mixture as she leaned slightly over a bowl filled with sliced peaches, the golden fruit glistening with spices. The sweet scent of cinnamon and nutmeg filled the air, mixing with the warmth of the freshly baked bread she must've pulled from the oven earlier.

Without a word, Logan crossed the small space and wrapped his arms around her from behind. His presence was solid, comforting, as he pulled her against his chest, rumbling a low, content sound deep in his throat. "Missed you," he muttered, his voice rough but soft with affection.

Indica smiled, her hands stilling for a moment in the bowl of crumble. Logan lowered his chin to her shoulder, having to hunch down a bit to accommodate the height difference between them, and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Her warmth, the scent of peaches, spices, and the faint trace of lavender in her hair—it was all home to him.

"I missed you too," Indica murmured, her voice soft and full of that deep connection they shared. She paused her work, wiping her flour-dusted fingers on her apron before looking over her shoulder, her gaze meeting his.

Logan didn't need an invitation. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a sweet, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed or hurried, just full of the quiet love they'd built together over the years. His lips moved softly against hers, and for a moment, the world outside their little kitchen seemed to disappear.

When they finally pulled away, Logan rested his forehead against hers, a content smile on his face. "Smells good," he rumbled, glancing at the peaches. "But you smell better."

Indica laughed softly, the sound as warm and comforting as the kitchen around them. "Flatterer," she teased, nudging him playfully before turning back to her task, but not before stealing one last kiss.

Logan nuzzled into the crook of Indica's neck, pressing soft kisses along her warm skin. The familiar, intoxicating scent of her hair—lavender and something earthy—mixed with a new, sweeter aroma that hit his senses all at once. It was citrusy and bright but with an underlying note of wildflowers that seemed to wrap around his mind, making it hard to think of anything else.

He inhaled deeply, the scent taking hold of him like a drug, stirring something deep and primal inside. "Mmm, what's that smell?" he murmured, his voice already rough as he buried his face deeper into her neck, his lips moving against her skin. "You smell... different."

Indica didn't get a chance to answer before Logan's instincts kicked in. The sweet, wild fragrance wrapped around him like a vine, pulling him closer as his hands began to roam over her body. His fingers found her waist, his grip tightening as he pulled her back against him, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her cardigan. A low growl escaped his throat as his lips brushed her pulse point, his nips turning more urgent, more possessive.

He nipped at her neck, teeth grazing the soft skin before soothing the sting with a slow, heated kiss. "You're driving me crazy, darlin'," he rumbled, his voice thick with desire as he moved to the other side of her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste her. He couldn't get enough, the citrusy sweetness making his senses hum and pushing him closer to that dangerous, feral edge he kept so well hidden.

His hands moved up, one sliding under the hem of her shirt to grip her bare skin, the other slipping over her chest, pulling her even tighter against him. "Damn, Indica," he growled as he sucked a mark onto her skin, the scent clouding his mind, turning every thought into need. "Smell like sunshine... like somethin' wild..."

He groaned low in his throat, the scent flooding his senses, making him want to devour her, to claim her in every possible way. His lips returned to the sweet spot just below her ear, nipping and sucking, his body pressed flush against hers as his hands wandered, possessive and hungry.

Whatever that scent was, it had him hooked, pulling him deeper into her orbit, where nothing else existed but her.

Indica felt Logan's warmth seep into her as his lips moved hungrily along her neck. Her breath hitched, and her fingers instinctively gripped the edge of the counter in front of her, trying to steady herself against the surge of heat flooding through her. The scent of peaches and spices from the crumble she'd been working on faded into the background, replaced by the intoxicating mix of Logan's rugged presence and his rough, demanding touch.

She melted against him, her body surrendering completely to his. The strength of his arms around her, the way his hands roamed over her skin, made it impossible to focus on anything else. Every nip and kiss sent shivers down her spine, a soft moan escaping her lips as she pressed her back into his chest, wanting more, needing more.

Logan's growl rumbled through her, vibrating against her skin as his teeth grazed her neck again. Her knees weakened, and she clung to the counter for balance, her knuckles turning white as she tried to ground herself. But it was useless—he had her, completely and utterly, and there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Her breath came out in a shaky exhale as she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her throat. "Logan..." she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him, feeling the hard lines of his body against hers, the possessiveness of his touch igniting something deep inside her.

He responded with another growl, his hands gripping her tighter, pulling her even closer. She gasped, her fingers slipping from the counter for a moment as she leaned into him, her body pliant, her heart racing. Logan's scent—earthy, raw, masculine—mixed with the sweet, citrusy wildflowers clinging to her, enveloping them both in a heady cloud of desire.

Indica's breath hitched again as she let herself go, surrendering to him completely, the world around them vanishing until all that existed was the feeling of his lips, his hands, his body pressing her deeper into that primal, electric connection they shared.

Indica's heart throbbed fiercely against her ribcage, each beat echoing Logan's intense desire. Her hands reached up, tangling in his hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp in a way she knew drove him wild. She could feel the rumble of his growl against her skin, a vibration that spurred a deeper arousal within her.

"Logan," she breathed out again, this time a plea mingled with exhilaration. His response was a deeper groan, almost animalistic, as he pressed his body harder against hers.

His kisses moved with more urgency now, tracing fiery paths down her neck, over her collarbone, each one stoking the flame higher. Logan's hands were relentless and gentle all at once, exploring with a familiarity that only heightened the thrill. The edge of his fang-like canines grazed her skin softly, dangerously, reminding her of the wildness within him that matched the storm he stirred in her.

The sound of her heartbeat filled the kitchen, mingling with the crackle of the oven behind them and their labored breaths. Indica's fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to erase any space left between them.

With a growl, Logan lifted Indica effortlessly, his strong hands gripping her hips as he hoisted her onto the counter. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist as she clung to him, their lips crashing together in a heated kiss. Neither of them noticed the chaos they were creating—too lost in each other to care.

As he leaned into her, one of Logan's hands swept the counter, knocking over the tub of flour. It tipped and spilled, sending a white cloud puffing into the air around them, dusting their skin and clothes. Indica let out a breathless laugh, but it was swallowed by Logan's hungry kiss as he pressed even closer, his lips capturing hers with unrelenting intensity.

In the midst of it all, the sugar tub teetered, then fell, scattering across the counter and onto the floor in a sticky cascade. Eggs, forgotten from earlier, rolled across the counter before slipping off the edge, landing with soft thuds on the hardwood floor.

Neither Logan nor Indica seemed to notice—or care. Logan's hands roamed over her waist, her back, her thighs, pulling her closer, deeper into his embrace as he nipped at her lips, his breathing ragged with desire. Indica's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him in as she kissed him back just as fervently, her body arching toward his, eager for his touch.

Flour dusted her dark skin, and she barely registered the soft crunch of the sugar under her bare feet as Logan pulled her further to the edge of the counter. The mess around them grew, but their focus remained entirely on each other—on the electric connection that sizzled between them, making everything else fade away. His strong hands ran up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher, his touch sending electric shocks through her veins. Indica moaned softly, her body reacting with an intensity that surprised even her; she was lost in the sensation, in Logan, in the overwhelming desire that coursed through them both.

Logan's eyes, usually a calm sea of blue, now mirrored the storm raging inside him. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, but filled with an undeniable love that made Indica's heart swell even as her body ached for him. He kissed her deeply, passionately, a kiss that spoke of raw need and fierce protectiveness.

Her fingers traced the muscles of his back, feeling them tense under her touch as he deepened their kiss. The world outside this burning circle of passion might as well have ceased to exist—they were here now, everything else fading into insignificance.

Breaking the kiss, Logan trailed his lips across her cheek to her ear, whispering words thick with emotion. "You have me spellbound, darlin'. Completely."

Indica's response was a mix of laughter and breathless desire. "And you have me... more than spellbound, Logan. You have me enchanted, ensnared." Her words tumbled out between gasps as his mouth once again found her neck, sending tingles spiraling down her spine.

Logan chuckled, the sound dark and enticing. "Ensnared, huh?" He teased lightly, his breath hot against her skin. "Just where I want you." His hands settled on her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles through the fabric of her skirt, each touch sending waves of anticipation coursing through her body.

Indica felt a surge of power well up within her—a wild, thrilling energy that seemed to pulse in sync with Logan's own feral intensity. She leaned back slightly, looking into his eyes with a daring smile. "Maybe," she whispered huskily, "it's where I want to be."

The heat in Logan's gaze intensified, a flare of desire so strong it nearly took her breath away. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly, teasingly. "Is that so?" he murmured against her mouth, the words barely audible yet laden with promise.

Indica nodded, her eyes locked on his, reflecting the fire she saw burning within them. She pulled him closer, eliminating any remaining distance between them. Their lips met again, this time in a kiss that was nothing short of explosive. Logan's hands moved with purpose now, tracing the contours of her body as if memorizing every detail through touch alone.

"Need you," Indica all but whined, her voice breathless as she clung to Logan. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging in lightly as she pulled him closer, her body trembling with anticipation. The raw need in her voice sent a shiver down Logan's spine, his desire for her flaring even hotter.

"Yeah?" he rasped, his lips brushing against her ear as his hands roamed her body, tracing her curves through the fabric of her clothes. "You got me, darlin'. Always."

Logan's voice was low and rough, the primal edge in his tone matching the intensity in his eyes. He leaned in, kissing along her neck, each press of his lips more urgent than the last. Indica's body responded instinctively, arching toward him as she whispered his name, her need for him a palpable force between them.

His grip tightened around her waist, and he kissed her fiercely, swallowing her soft whimpers.

Her hands wandered down Logan's back to tug at the hem of his shirt, seeking skin, craving the warm contact of flesh on flesh. He obliged without hesitation, pulling the garment over his head and discarding it carelessly to the floor.

As the shirt hit the floor, Indica's breath caught at the sight before her. Logan, bare-chested, was a sight to behold. His muscles rippled beneath his skin, his broad chest covered in a layer of coarse hair that only added to his raw, rugged appeal. His physique was a perfect balance of man and beast—primal, powerful, and utterly mouthwatering.

The deep grooves of his abs led down to his waistband, each muscle flexing as he shifted closer to her. His arms, thick with muscle, bore the marks of countless battles and the strength that came with being Wolverine. There was a raw energy about him, something untamed and dangerous, but beneath that wild exterior was a man who loved her fiercely.

His chest rose and fell with each breath, his body exuding heat and power. Indica's eyes traced the scars scattered across his skin, faint reminders of the wars he'd survived, only to heal and come back stronger. But it wasn't just his strength that made her heart race—it was the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in his world.

Logan stood there, every inch of him dripping with masculinity, and she couldn't help but bite her lip at the sight. He was raw, untamed power, yet the way he was with her—the way he surrendered only to her—made him even more irresistible.

"Like what you see, darlin'?" he rumbled, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk tugging at his lips as he caught her staring. His eyes glinted with that feral edge, a promise of everything to come.

Indica reached out, her fingers barely brushing over the surface of Logan's chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath her touch. "Always, my love," she whispered, her voice filled with both admiration and desire. His skin was warm—hot, even—like the very heat of him was rising to meet her, pulling her closer with every pass of her fingers. The muscles under his skin rippled with each subtle movement, every breath he took vibrating through him like restrained power waiting to be unleashed.

Indica's hands moved slowly, savoring the feel of him, her fingertips gliding over the firm planes of his chest and down toward the valleys between each sculpted muscle. There was a raw energy in him, an untamed force that hummed beneath her touch. With each stroke, the connection between them grew deeper, more tangible, crackling like electricity in the air between them.

Her fingers mapped his chest, lingering on old scars that told stories of battles fought and survived, her touch soft and reverent. She was in awe of him—of the sheer strength and resilience that radiated from his body, yet how he allowed himself to be so vulnerable in her hands. It was an intimacy few knew, a side of Logan that only she was privileged to witness.

As her hands moved lower, trailing over the ridges of his abdomen, the air around them seemed to hum with a potent energy—a spark ignited between them that only grew hotter. Logan let out a low growl, his body responding to her touch, muscles tensing under her fingertips as if aching for more. The tension between them was almost too much to bear, and yet Indica savored every second, knowing that this moment was theirs alone.

Logan's hands were not idle either; they moved up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, teasing her over the fabric of her crop top, which suddenly seemed far too much of a barrier between them.

The scent of her—sweet and citrusy with a hint of wildflowers—hit him again, and this time, something snapped. Logan's grip tightened on Indica's hips, his breathing turning ragged. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with feral intensity, pupils blown wide with desire. The perfume that clung to her skin, mixed with the raw magic he could feel pulsing through her, was driving him wild.

Without warning, Logan's hands moved with rough urgency, tugging at her clothes, fingers gripping the fabric as he pulled her shirt over her head, his growls low and primal. He wasn't gentle—not this time. His need was too strong, too immediate. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as he yanked her closer, his lips crashing against hers, swallowing the soft gasp that escaped her.

As the fabric fell away from her body, completely exposing her large breasts to the cool air of the kitchen and then to the heat of Logan's gaze, a sense of vulnerability swept over her, quickly chased away by the depth of desire she saw reflected in his eyes. His touch was reverent as he traced the lines of her body now laid bare before him.

Indica leaned back on her hands, her chest rising and falling rapidly with each heated breath. Logan's fingertips danced across her skin, exploring every curve and contour as if he were mapping a precious terrain.

"Beautiful...most beautiful thing I've seen in my life," His lips followed, pressing against her flesh with a mix of soft kisses and slight nibbles that drew small, delightful sounds from her throat.

As Logan's broad, hairy chest pressed against Indica's, he could feel something more than just the heat of her body. It was a sensation that pulsed just beneath her skin, a subtle energy—her magic—coursing through her and into him. His muscles tensed slightly as he felt it, a tingle that began at the point of contact and spread outward like sparks flickering through his veins.

The deeper his fingers dug into her hips, the more the sensation grew, as though her magic was responding to their closeness to his touch. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was impossible to ignore. He could feel the hum of power she carried within her, like electricity dancing beneath her fingertips, sparking against his skin.

It was intoxicating, the way her magic blended with the raw physical connection between them. Logan groaned softly, burying his face in the crook of her neck as the sensation intensified. "I can feel it," he growled, his voice thick with desire, "your magic... it's in me."

Indica smiled, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps as she trailed her hands down his muscular arms, fingers tingling with the same power he felt. "It's always been yours," she whispered, her voice laced with a mix of passion and something deeper, a connection that went beyond the physical. "You bring it out of me."

The warmth of his mouth journeyed across her collarbone and delicately down the center of her chest, hovering over her heart as if he could feel the rampant beat echoing his own. Indica's body arched towards him, seeking the pressure of his touch, craving more of the intoxicating mixture of pain and pleasure only he could deliver.

Logan's gaze met hers, intense and unyielding. In that look, she saw the wildness of the beast within him, restrained but palpable, held back only by the thin thread of control he maintained. It thrilled her; it terrified her—a delicious terror that only fueled the flames higher.

He lifted her slightly, his hands firm under her thighs, shoving her skirt up, bringing her even closer, the strength in his arms unquestionable. Logan's lips found hers again, the kiss deep, consuming as if he could somehow draw her very soul into his.

Indica responded with equal fervor, her own passion matching his, stroke for stroke, kiss for kiss. Her hands roamed over the broad expanse of his shoulders and down his back, feeling every muscle tense under her touch.

Her fingers shook as she struggled with the button and zipper of his Levi's, her mind consumed by the searing heat of Logan's lips on her neck. Each kiss left a trail of fire that burned through her body, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on the task at hand.

As the button finally gave way and the zipper descended, a rush of excitement surged through her veins. With a swift movement, Logan tugged down his jeans and boxer briefs.

His thick, flushed cock erupted from his pants, pulsing and throbbing with desperate need. The intense pressure and heat burned through every nerve in his body as he ached to release his desire.

Indica's gaze locked onto him, her eyes dark with want and a touch of wonder. She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she touched him, her fingers wrapping around his girth. Logan groaned, the sound deep and guttural, filled with raw need. His eyes closed for a moment in sheer pleasure at her touch.

His rough, calloused fingers traced a path up her trembling inner thighs until they reached the fabric barrier of her panties. With a primal growl, Logan hooked his fingers in the waistband and yanked them down with a force that left red marks on her skin. The scent of her arousal filled his senses as he exposed her throbbing wetness.

"Indi, darlin'," he whispered hoarsely, his voice strained with desire. He opened his eyes, locking on to hers with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "Please."

The single word was a plea filled with longing and anticipation. Indica nodded slightly, understanding his need, feeling it mirrored in her own body. She shifted her position slightly, guiding him closer with a gentle tug of her hand. Logan obliged, stepping forward until he was nestled between her thighs.

Indica throws herself back onto the counter, knocking over the vase of flowers and scattering sugar across the kitchen. She bites down hard on her lip, eyes locked with her husband's as he leans in and sucks a pert nipple into his mouth. The scent of citrusy perfume fills his lungs, clouding his mind and igniting a primal urge within him. His higher brain struggles to maintain control as the beast inside of him roars, begging to be unleashed and ravish Indica without mercy.

"I'm going to devour you, my little witch," he snarls, his voice dripping with primal hunger as he positions the thick, fat head of his cock at her sloppy entrance.

With agonizing slowness, he begins to press inside her, torturing her with each millimeter of penetration.

Indica bites down hard on her lip, suppressing a whimper as she feels the pressure building inside her. The anticipation coils tightly in her body, setting every nerve on fire and making her ache for release. With a shaky breath, she nods in consent, giving him the permission he seeks.

"Harder...fuck me harder, my beast," she gasps out, surrendering herself completely to the wild desire that consumes them both.

Logan's response is immediate and powerful, his body responding to her plea with an intensity that matched the ferocity of his nature. He drives into her with a primal force that leaves no room for gentleness; each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of their bodies colliding fills the kitchen, blending with Indica's gasps and moans.

The kitchen becomes a blur around them, the world narrowing down to the intense connection of flesh on flesh, the raw, nearly animalistic sounds filling the air: the slap of skin against skin, their mingled breaths, and growls of unrestrained desire.

Logan sets a punishing pace; each thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through Indica. He leans into her, his hot breath against her ear. "Mine," he whispers fiercely between gritted teeth, each word punctuated by another deep drive that sends shivers racing down her spine.

"Yours," she whimpers.

Indica feels herself spiraling toward oblivion, every nerve ending screaming as she clings to Logan, her fingers digging into his muscular shoulders. The world tilts and spins, every sensation heightened to an almost unbearable intensity. She feels as if she's teetering on the edge of a precipice, one more touch, one more thrust away from plummeting into ecstasy.

"Logan," she gasps, her voice breaking with the force of her passion. "Don't stop."

He growls in response, a sound so primal and unrestrained that it sends another wave of desire coursing through her. His hands grip her hips firmly, guiding her to meet each of his thrusts, the connection so deep that it feels as though they are merging into one entity driven by the same wild hunger.

"Won't stop.....never gonna stop," he growled in response, hips snapping forward hard.

Above them, the kitchen lights flicker as if resonating with the energy they are generating, a low hum filling the air alongside the scent of citrus and arousal. Indica's senses are overwhelmed; the scent of Logan's skin, the taste of his kisses, and the feeling of him moving within her fuse together in a dizzying crescendo of sensation.

Each thrust pushes her closer to the edge, and she can feel her body tighten around him, her climax building like a storm on the horizon. Logan senses it too, his movements becoming more desperate, his balls heavy and tight, the growing pressure at the base of his spine; he became more focused as he seeks their mutual release.

Indica's world narrows to the electric connection between them, each point of contact sparking with raw energy. Her cries grow louder, less inhibited as she nears the peak of her desire. She grabs Logan's face, pulling him down for a fierce kiss, their teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance in a dance as old as time.

The tension in her builds to an almost painful degree, her entire body wound tight as a bowstring. And then, with one final, deep thrust, Logan sends her over the edge. Her climax washes over her in waves, powerful and relentless.

"L-Lo—nngh," she cries out back arching off the counter.

Logan groans deep in his chest, feeling her velvety blood hot walls massage his aching cock. "Fuck!"

She clings to him, nails digging into his back as she rides the waves of her release, each contraction pulling a deeper growl from Logan's throat. His own climax follows close behind, spurred on by the clenching of her body around him. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his body shuddering with each pulse as he empties himself into her, cum spurting out in thick milky ropes marking her as his in the most primal way possible.

The world seems to pause, their heavy breaths and the slowing thud of their hearts the only sounds in the now silent kitchen. Gradually, they come back to themselves, the haze of lust dissipating slightly as reality begins to seep back in.

Logan lifts his head to look at Indica, his eyes still dark with residual desire but softened with something deeper, a tender yet fierce affection that sends a warm flush through her body all over again. He presses a gentle kiss to her forehead before easing back slightly to look at her.

"We might have gotten a bit carried away," he says with a rough chuckle, his voice still husky from their exertions. A sheepish grin crosses his face as he takes in the disarray around them—the overturned vase, sugar spread across the countertop, their clothes discarded haphazardly on the floor.

Indica laughs, a light, joyous sound that fills the kitchen. She reaches up to brush a damp lock of hair from his forehead, her touch gentle and affectionate. "Maybe just a little," she agrees, her eyes sparkling with amusement and love. "But I can't say I minded it."

He nods, his eyes locking with hers, intense and burning yet filled with an emotion so deep it makes her heart swell in her chest. He bends down to capture her lips once more, this kiss tender and loving, a stark contrast to the passion-fueled ones that had preceded it. It's a confirmation of something beyond their physical desire—an affirmation of their deep, unwavering connection.

Logan took a deep breath, that scent hitting him again, he felt his cock stir. "What the fuck are you wearing? Smells too damn good..." His voice was rough, teasing, but there was a glint in his eyes—like he still hadn't gotten enough of her, even after everything.

Indica chuckled softly, sliding off the counter and pushing her skirt down her legs before pulling on one of his t-shirts. The shirt, oversized on her, fell to just mid-thigh, and she padded barefoot over to the kitchen counter, where the small bottle of perfume sat. She picked it up, sniffing it once more just to test how strong it was before handing it over to him. "Here, see for yourself," she said, smiling.

Logan didn't even need to remove the lid to catch the scent; it hit him full force. He took a deep breath, his nose flaring. "Smells like pheromones," he muttered, more to himself than her, as his brow furrowed in curiosity.

As Indica leaned on the counter, her gaze dropped to the floor. A small brochure, glossy and folded, lay there like it had been waiting to be noticed. She picked it up and read it quickly, her eyes widening before she burst into a fit of giggles. Leaning heavily against the counter for support, she couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling up.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. "What's so funny?"

Still giggling, Indica handed him the brochure and the little card that had come with the perfume. "Here, read this," she said, trying to catch her breath.

Logan scanned the brochure, his expression shifting from confusion to amusement as he read the bold print: Pheromone-Infused Perfume: Enhance Attraction, Elevate Desire.

Logan held the perfume bottle between his fingers like it might explode at any second, his brow furrowed as he stared at it before glancing back up at Indica. "Who the fuck sent you this?" His voice was gruff, laced with curiosity but edged with a little annoyance.

Indica's lips twitched into a knowing smile. "Vanessa," she replied, watching as his reaction shifted from confusion to that trademark grumpy scowl.

Logan grunted in response, his face hardening as he handed the bottle back to her like it was some sort of dangerous contraband. "She's almost as meddlesome as her husband," he muttered, shaking his head as if dealing with Wade's antics in spirit, even when the man wasn't physically present.

Indica couldn't help but laugh at that, setting the bottle back on the counter. "You know they mean well."

"Yeah, sure," Logan grumbled. "Well-meaning chaos, just like Wade."

Indica grinned, still laughing softly. "That's probably why every guy in town was acting crazy around me today. I didn't realize I was walking around wearing literal pheromones."

Logan let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head as he tossed the brochure on the counter. "No wonder. Damn near drove me feral myself." He pulled her close again, his arms wrapping around her waist as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. "But hell, I don't need pheromones to want you, darlin'. You do that just fine on your own."

Logan stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Wait... what do you mean 'acting crazy'? Was somebody hitting on you?" His voice grew rougher, a low growl slipping into his words.

"Logan—" Indica started, trying to calm him down, but before she could say more, she was hoisted up and slung over his broad shoulder with no warning.

"I'll be damned if someone's hitting on my old lady," Logan grunted, marching through the kitchen and living room with determination.

Indica giggled, lightly tapping his back. "Where are you taking me?"

"To bed," he rumbled, his grip tightening possessively on her thighs. "We aren't leaving this house again until you smell like mine," he declared, giving her a playful slap on the ass as he stomped up the stairs, each step filled with intent.

Indica's laughter echoed through the house, warmth filling her chest. She knew Logan was serious, but his protectiveness had a way of making her feel cherished. She relaxed against him, content to let him be feral and wild, knowing all too well how much they belonged to each other.

Mood Board

[steviebbboi]

Logan Howlett/The Wolverine Masterlist

🌶️ = smut; 🥹 = fluff; 🩹 = angst

If You Could, You Would (I could, and I would) 🌶️🩹

Pairing: Logan/Wolverine x Original Female Character (OFC)

Type: Series (In-Progress); 5/?

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Amelia Arson (Emmy) is among the many gifted and talented professors at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. She is intelligent and kind, but also wise and jaded from her own troubled past. As an Elemental, her presence is welcome and swift when acclimating into the X-Men. A fortified team member with mentors like Jean Grey and Storm by her side to continue guiding her in developing her powers. But, what happens when the team goes on a mission only to bring back a certain leather-wearing jacket man with characteristics of a wolf and a timid, glove wearing, doe-eyed girl back to the mansion? Whirlwind ensues.

[nyeddleblog]

A little piece of heaven [Part 1]

Pairing: Wade Wilson x Original Female Character x Logan Howlett. Summary: In Wade's timeline, Iris is his supernice upstairs neighbor. In Wolverine's, she's his beloved dead wife. A/N: This is a Wattpad Fic with an original character of mine that you can find here. This is just the first chapter that I wanted to share with you. Warnings: Deadpool & Wolverine spoilers, kinda.

Chapter 1: Refraction.

When they entered the room she was in a corner, elbows resting on the table as she talked passionately to Vanessa. Logan's gaze was instantly hooked on her, ever since he realized how her delicate features were exactly as he remembered. He froze, inhaling sharply as the memories came back flooding. Her gentle touch, her soft melodic voice, her cute laugh.

This wasn't, of course, his Iris. He tried to pinpoint each difference as soon as he could but both her beauty and her lively nature were tearing him apart.

Her silky blonde hair fell in blowout waves and her lips were a glossy crimson color. She wore a strange piano pleated skirt that barely covered anything and a mesh blouse that showed the bright red bralette she wore underneath. It felt like a desecration to his wife's memory. A sexier, younger, messier version of what she used to be.

Yet she laughed, her eyes crinkling, her small tooth gap showing. And her shoulders shook, and she talked, and her voice was gleeful and melodic. Iris swayed to the music delicately, timidly and then smiled at her friend in front of her.

She was a sight.

Logan felt Wade's hand gently tap his back and understood that he knew. Rage filled him. The little fucker knew, even back when Logan had told him about his dead wife. The little fucker knew and he hadn't told him that it wasn't like that in every universe. Wade knew that in his, Iris was alive and well. He was going to stab him as soon as she was out of sight.

Logan turned to leave but Wade put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him into the picture, acting as if he didn't know what he was doing.

"Wade!" Iris turned around, smiling sweetly, "I thought for a second there that you weren't going to make it! This is actually my outfit for your funeral!"

"It's the most hideous thing I've seen in my life and yet you managed to pull it off!" he answered snappily, with a smile as sweet as hers, "I came back and I brought you a gift."

Logan frowned, not remembering Wade taking anything from the void. Then, he felt his hand firmly press against the back of his neck, like he was some kind of kitten being carried by it's mother, as he dragged him and pulled him onto Iris. 

He was actually going to stab him right there.

"For me?" Iris followed him suit, putting a hand softly on Logan's shoulder, but giving him an apologetic look when they made eye contact, "I've always wanted a Wolverine!"

"Oh, sweetheart" Wade pressed his hands together and tilted his head, "I know."

"You shouldn't have..." And then she laughed, and extended her hand out for him to shake, "Iris Finch, a pleasure."

She looked up through her lashes and Iris had always had such plump, soft and inviting lips that, despite knowing it wasn't his wife, he wanted to kiss her. 

He managed a nod, his voice barely audible, "Pleasure."

And Logan tried to avoid her for the rest of the night. Emphasis in 'tried', because Wade didn't seem to respect the fact that that was not his dead wife. No, this Iris had dirty blonde hair and she never got her teeth fixed. This Iris used a different perfume, a cheaper one, and seemed to like Wade's jokes far more than what Logan was comfortable with.

But just like his Iris, she had an impecable intuition and every time he wanted to take a look at her, she stared back, giving him a smile. Just like his Iris had, she timidly approached, a known curiosity in her eyes that he missed dearly. And he was back there all over again, feeling endearment for her already.

"I know this is sudden, and maybe a bit forward, but I don't remember you."

"Oh, I'm not from..." he tried to explain, his voice rough, "I'm from another..."

"Timeline, I know" she nodded, fidgeting with the beer in her hand, "I meant..." she looked back at Wade, who was finally talking to Vanessa, and then gave Logan a bashful smile, "What was your Iris' abilities?"

Logan frowned. His Iris. He knew the distinction, he knew the distinction, but how did she know he had a Iris? He licked his lips, feeling uncomfortable, yet he answered "Lucid dreaming."

Iris nodded, "And she never told you what dreamwalking was?"

He felt his nostrils flare and anger start to get a hold of him. He didn't understand why yet, but Iris' existence alone was starting to enrage him. Felt like an impostor, uncanny and profaning.

"No."

The girl, oblivious of his annoyance, smiled widely and started explaining in depth the abilities of his beloved dead wife. To be fair, she was explaining her own abilities but Logan didn't want another version of Iris telling him something about her. 

"...And that's why every time I fall asleep, I usually see a Wolverine." she continued, making him raise his eyebrows "And of course I don't think I've met every single one of them, but I'm pretty sure I would've remembered you if I had!"

"In order for you to dreamwalk into another universe, you need another you inhabiting it, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, my wif... Iris" he corrected himself, making sure that he was staring straight into her eyes and making himself clear, "Has been dead for over twenty years."

Iris's smile faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.

"I... I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I thought..."

Logan's anger was slowly simmering down, replaced by a cold, hard realization. It wasn't really her fault that she was another version of the love of his life, however fucked up that was.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft murmur of the crowd. Iris was the first to break it, smiling yet again. 

"So, you're my new downstairs neighbor, huh?"

A/N: I hope u guys understand where I'm going with this... And yes, I'm going to make a side fanfiction where I write the sweet, tragic story of Logan and Iris of his timeline.

NEXT PART.

[lunasblunt]

barracuda

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

SFW!!!!! pt.1

pairing: logan howlett x original female!mutant character

summary: terra, a mutant with the ability to manipulate earthly elements and grow plants/flowers from her palms, finds herself incredibly fed up with logan as they’re forced to to train together.

suggested song: barracuda by heart BASIC IK BUT IT JUST FITS SO WELL

CW: mention of blood, mention of hand to hand combat / fighting using their powers (i’m terrible at writing fight scenes so it won’t be graphic at all), logan is pretty aggressive towards her but dw it’s not gonna be like this for the entire fic it’s just his character arc….

A/N: pretty sure i saw a oneshot w the idea of these powers a while ago so just wanna let u guys know this idea did NOT come from me & i don’t claim to have come up w it :)) also this is part 1 so pls don't hate me for not making them make out straight away...... we need some tension first... HOPE U ENJOY <3

edited a/n: if anyone’s interested in being on a taglist for this fic pls reply/lmk i’d love to figure out how tumblr works and keep u all updated lolllll

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

terra was never one to fuss over charles’s orders. the girl knew the man was incapable of making bad decisions, especially when it came to the team. but when charles had called both logan and terra into his office, asking the two of them to train as a combat duo, she felt her respect for his wisdom fly out the window.

logan… and her? a combat duo? she found the idea hilarious. her eyes scanned the office, waiting to see if this meeting was some sort of prank. as charles continued on, raving about how if the two could cooperate as a unit it could be greatly beneficial for the team, she had to face the reality of the situation. the professor was serious.

the idea of their gifts working well together caused her a great headache. if anything, their abilities, and personalities, were quite opposite. in what world would logan’s cocky, carefree skillset and her peaceful, nonviolent aura compliment each other?

as much as she wanted to put up a fight with the professor, she’d known there was nothing she could do. when charles had made his mind up, it was an unspoken rule to trust how it played out.

now here she was, a day later, taking a gulp of water unhappily as she waited for logan’s arrival.

the second logan stepped foot into training room, terra could feel the energy shift. his cold, stuck up demeanor practically deteriorated the calm, tranquil atmosphere she’d been building all morning.

"glad you decided to show up!" terra spits, setting the tone for their upcoming weeks of training. it'd been an hour past the time charles had set for them to meet.

this newfound attitude felt out of character to terra. usually, the girl found herself calm and collected, grounded and appreciative of the world around her. it was when she first met logan that she discovered the way it felt to actually hate someone.

terra thinks back to the two's first few encounters. the way he ignored her hand when she politely introduced herself, the way he made passive aggressive comments toward her in group settings, the way he completely ignored her presence in any scenario. a hot, tingly feeling started to fill the pit in her stomach.

logan scoffs to himself, finding her attitude amusing. he pinches the thick cigar resting between his lips, takes one last puff, then puts it out on the wall beside him.

"we'll start with hand to hand combat." is all that logan lets escapes his lips. he wasn't there to chat, he was there for a reason, and he wasn't going to let her waste anymore of his day. “no powers, no tricks, just raw sparring.”

terra shakes her head, returning the same petty scoff he’d given her in response. he was unbelievable.

as the two get into their fighting positions, terra refuses to acknowledge the way logan is quick to peel off his tank top, and she definitely refuses to acknowledge the strange way it left that fiery pit in her stomach lively and bothered.

for a while the two fight, logan’s experience giving him the upper hand. she’d never been the soldier, she was the distraction. making the ground shake or bending the trees around them into different shapes to buy the team some extra time; she was there to confuse the enemy, not hurt them.

eventually, their brawl tends to get more heated and logan can see how it’s affecting her. the girl was tired, her body practically crumbling beneath her, but she refused to give up.

logan sees this as the perfect opportunity to get under her skin.

“come on, that all you got?” he hisses through gritted teeth, poking the bear. terra can’t help but let the vines that had been begging to be freed shoot out of her palms. before he realizes what’s going on, logan can feel the plants slithering up his legs. they make their way to his forearms, then to his neck, curling around him tightly, pushing him away from the girl trapped beneath him.

logan lets out a low chuckle at the girl’s spectacle, the grip of the vines on his neck a feeling he didn't exactly mind. was that really the best she could do?

as terra gives a breathless smirk, thinking she’d done a number on him, logan lets the blades hidden in between his knuckles slide out. without a word, the man is instantly darting toward her... or more specifically the green nuisances growing from her hands.

logan slices the vines straight from where they came from, leaving terra no choice but to fall to the floor in agonizing pain.

he watches as her palms start to gush blood, her eyes widening in shock. bending down on his knee, getting to her level, logan lets his lips slide into a smirk. these next few weeks were going to be fun for him. "you're gonna keep getting yourself into trouble if you don't start paying attention." the man breathes, too careless to yell.

with that, logan turns on his heel, his back facing the injured girl. he thinks about lighting up the rest of his cigar, more hung up on the taste of it lingering in his mouth than the state he's left the oh so peaceful "mother nature" in.

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 1

Series Summary: Alexandria Sokolova spent 15 years with HYDRA, ever since her parents and brother were killed in front of her when she was 3. She was raised to be a soldier; an assassin. But now, faced with coming to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, she has to come to terms that there are people around her who don't want to hurt her, people who actually care about her.

But recognizing that is harder than it seems, especially with a teacher like Logan Howlett, who seems to care more about her than he lets on.

Just because she's currently safe from HYDRA's grasp now, doesn't mean she's safe forever.

Chapter Summary: The Avengers bring Alexandria to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Word Count: 8.9k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: and hello! welcome to this series! this is going to be a long one, since there are going to be three parts, this story, another series based around 'logan (2017)' and another based on 'deadpool and wolverine'.

but let's get a few things out of the way. this is NOT a romance with alexandria and logan. this is about them slowly recognizing they are more alike than different, and how they both eventually let their guard down around each other. if you will, it's a 'slow burn' father-daughter relationship.

another thing, alexandria's powers are as followed: dream-weaver; enter and manipulate dreams and telekinesis. you'll understand a bit more as you read on.

another, another thing, this is an au, the characters of jean, scott, kitty, jubilee, and others mentioned are TEENAGERS. they are students in high-school level classes as the X-Mansion, not adults. some of these characters may seem ooc, and if we're being honest it's because i've only watched first class-dark pheonix, the deadpool movies, wolverine origins, and logan. i tried watching the original x-men movies but i ended up falling asleep (oops). so if these characters are written wrong, it's my fault, but we are sticking with the ooc tag.

Series Masterlist → Chapter 2

AO3 Link For Chapter

Alexandria didn’t much care for whatever they were taking her. The Avengers, that is. Being saved from HYDRA did warrant them a ‘thank you’, but after a few days of staying at the Avengers Compound, they decided that it wasn’t a “good fit”.

Meaning a few things: one, they were scared of her, which was unlikely considering her powers weren’t all that terrifying, or two, they simply didn’t want to deal with a 17-year-old girl with trauma dating back 14 years ago.

The only three people who talked to her like a normal person was Wanda, Bucky, and Natasha, which she appreciated greatly.

“Coming up on the school.” Tony’s voice sounded out through the cockpit of the Quinjet.

Alexandria rolled her eyes, this all seemed like too much. She was a kid, just rescued from a terrorist organization and now she was supposed to go to school?

Was this a fucking joke?

Alexandria glared out the window as the Quinjet descended towards the sprawling grounds of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. The idea of school felt absurd after everything she’d been through. She crossed her arms, sinking deeper into her seat, eyes narrowed.

“Hey, I know it’s not ideal, but this place might be good for you,” Natasha said, catching Alexandria’s expression. She leaned over from her seat across the aisle, her voice gentle but firm.

“Yeah, a place full of more people who can do freaky stuff. Great,” Alexandria muttered.

Bucky, seated next to Natasha, turned to her. “It’s not just about powers. You’ll meet people who understand you, maybe even help you find some peace.”

Alexandria snorted, her skepticism apparent. “Peace? That’s rich coming from you.”

Bucky’s face tightened for a moment, but he nodded. “Touché. But it’s worth a shot.”

Tony’s voice came through again. “We’re landing. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.”

The Quinjet touched down smoothly, and the ramp lowered. Charles Xavier was waiting, a welcoming smile on his face, his wheelchair positioned at the edge of the landing zone. Beside him stood a younger man, wearing glasses, a flannel shirt, a tie, and a white lab coat.

Alexandria hesitated at the top of the ramp, glancing back at the Avengers. Wanda gave her an encouraging nod, while Natasha and Bucky looked on with reassuring expressions.

“Come on, kid,” Tony said, gesturing for her to follow. “Let’s get this over with.”

With a resigned sigh, Alexandria descended the ramp. Charles rolled forward to meet her, his eyes kind and understanding.

“Welcome, Alexandria,” he said warmly. “I’m Charles Xavier, and this is Hank McCoy. We’re here to help you.”

Hank offered a friendly smile. “Hi there. We’re really glad to have you here.”

Alexandria nodded stiffly, feeling the weight of their expectations. “Thanks, I guess.”

Charles seemed unfazed by her reluctance. “Why don’t we show you around? Hank, could you give Alexandria a tour while I have a word with our friends?”

“Sure thing,” Hank replied. “Come on, Alexandria, I’ll show you the school.”

As they walked away, Alexandria glanced back to see Charles engaging in a serious conversation with the Avengers. She couldn’t hear the words, but the tone suggested they were discussing her future.

“So, this place is like a school for mutants?” Alexandria asked, trying to make sense of it all.

“Exactly,” Hank said. “We offer a safe environment for young mutants to learn and grow. You’ll find a lot of people here who understand what you’ve been through.”

“Doubt it.” she muttered. Part of her didn’t even believe she was a so-called ‘mutant’. What she was however, was an experiment.

Hank chuckled softly as he led Alexandria through the halls of the Xavier Institute. “Well, I can’t promise you that everyone will understand perfectly, but you’re not alone in feeling out of place.”

“Yeah, right,” Alexandria replied, glancing around at the impressive but unfamiliar surroundings. “I’m supposed to just fit in here after everything that’s happened?”

“Everyone here has their own struggles and history,” Hank said. “Some are more recent than others, but we all find a way to make it work.”

They passed by a few classrooms, and Alexandria noticed students engaged in various activities. Some were reading, others were practicing what looked like combat techniques. It was clear this was not a typical school.

“Here’s the gym,” Hank said, opening a door to a large, well-equipped space. “It’s not just for physical training. It’s a place where students can test their abilities and find out what they’re capable of.”

Alexandria’s eyes flicked over the gym, taking in the equipment and the few students who were sparring. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Training can be intense, but it’s also important,” Hank said. “And there’s more to this place than just classes. You’ll find people who become like family.”

“Family, huh?” Alexandria muttered. “That’s something I’ve never had.”

Hank looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “You’re not alone here. Many of us have found a sense of family and belonging. It takes time, but it happens.”

They continued the tour, moving to the dormitory area where Alexandria would be staying. Hank showed her the common areas and her room, which was modest but comfortable.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Hank said, opening the door to a small, neatly arranged room. “It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

Alexandria walked in, setting her bag down on the bed. “Great. Just what I always wanted. A room of my own.”

Hank smiled faintly. “It’s a start. And if you need anything or have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone flat. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Hank left her to settle in, Alexandria stared out the window, her thoughts racing. The enormity of her situation was starting to sink in. This was supposed to be a new beginning, but it felt more like another form of confinement.

She stared down at the baggy jeans she was currently wearing, something that probably came from deep inside Wanda’s closet.

Alexandria wasn’t much for talking, nor did she know what to do. Usually, she was only let out of her cell for lab-time, which lasted the entire day, before being thrown back into her cell.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the small, framed picture of the school grounds that hung on the wall. The room, though modest, was far from the sterile, cold environment she’d been accustomed to. But that didn’t make it feel any less isolating. The quiet was oppressive, and she found herself fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit she’d developed over the years.

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts. She stood up quickly, her pulse quickening. It was probably someone from the staff, here to check on her or give her some new set of instructions.

“Hey,” a voice called through the door. “It’s me, Kitty. Mind if I come in?”

Alexandria hesitated for a moment before opening the door. A girl about her age stood there, wearing a casual hoodie and jeans. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her eyes were a warm brown, filled with curiosity.

“Hi,” Kitty said with a friendly smile. “Charles sent me to see if you needed anything. I’m one of the students here.”

“Uh, sure,” Alexandria said, stepping aside to let her in. “I didn’t know anyone was coming by.”

Kitty stepped into the room, looking around with a mixture of interest and sympathy. “I know it’s probably a lot to take in right now. I remember my first few days here weren’t exactly easy.”

Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling a bit self-conscious. “It’s... different. I’ve never been to a place like this before.”

Kitty nodded, taking a seat on the small desk chair. “Yeah, it’s a lot to get used to. But it’s a good place. People here care about each other. I know it might not feel that way right now, but it does get better.”

“Do you really think so?” Alexandria asked, her skepticism evident.

“Absolutely,” Kitty replied earnestly. “I know it sounds cliché, but this place is like a family for a lot of us. You might not feel it yet, but you’re not alone.”

Alexandria shrugged, not entirely convinced. “I guess we’ll see.”

Kitty tilted her head, studying Alexandria for a moment. “You’ve probably been through a lot, right? With HYDRA and all that?”

“More than you could imagine,” Alexandria muttered. She hadn’t talked much about her past, even to the Avengers. It was easier to keep it all inside, where it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

Kitty’s expression softened. “If you ever want to talk, I’m here. Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest.”

“Thanks,” Alexandria said, though her tone suggested she wasn’t ready to take her up on the offer just yet.

Kitty stood up, giving her a reassuring smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and see if you needed anything. If you do, just let me or any of the staff know.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kitty nodded and made her way to the door. “See you around, Alexandria.”

As Kitty left, Alexandria sat back down on her bed, feeling the quiet settle around her again. The small bit of interaction had been a welcome distraction, but it also left her feeling more alone than before. She wasn’t used to people reaching out, and it made her wary.

And because she was wary, she spent the rest of the day in her room trying to figure out what the object on her desk was. It looked almost like a small, compact box, with many wires connecting to it.

After hours of trying to understand, night fell, and she needed a break. Alexandria grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before walking through the empty halls.

Finally, Alexandria stepped through a side door and found herself in a large, open field surrounded by trees. The night air was cool, and the quiet was a welcome contrast to the clamor of her thoughts. She lit her cigarette, the tip glowing softly in the darkness, and took a long drag. The smoke curled around her, blending with the shadows.

She leaned against the door frame, looking out at the expanse of grass and trees. The quiet of the night felt different here, less oppressive than the silence of her room. Maybe it was the openness, or maybe it was the fact that she was alone, and for the moment, she didn't have to pretend to be okay.

"Smoking's bad for you, you know," a gruff voice said from behind her.

Alexandria tensed, turning to see Logan standing there, someone Hank had mentioned to her, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression was hard to read, but his eyes held a hint of curiosity.

She took another drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. "So I've heard."

Logan stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her. "You planning to make this a habit, or just tonight?"

"Does it matter?" she replied, her tone defensive.

"Maybe not to you," Logan said, "but to the people around here, it does. They care about what happens to you."

Alexandria let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, right. I'm just another problem for them to solve."

"You're not a problem," Logan said, his voice firm. "You're a kid who's been through hell and needs a chance to find herself again."

“Find myself?” she scoffed. “There’s nothing to find.” Alexandria turned to face Logan, who lit a cigar, much bigger than her cigarette. She scoffed again. “You’re one to talk.”

Logan took a long drag from his cigar, the end flaring bright in the dark. “I’m not here to lecture you, bub. Just saying it like it is.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Yeah, well, I don’t need your advice.”

Logan’s gaze was steady, unyielding. “You might not want it, but you sure as hell need it.”

“Why do you even care?” she snapped. “You don’t know me.”

Logan exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, I don’t. But I’ve seen enough kids like you to know when someone’s hurting. And I’m here to tell you, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

She rolled her eyes, dropping her cigarette and stomping out the light. “I’d much rather be alone.”

Logan watched as Alexandria stomped out her cigarette, the ember disappearing into the grass. The silence that followed was heavy, and he could see the tension in her posture. He took another drag from his cigar, letting the smoke curl around him before letting it out in a slow stream.

"You think pushing people away is gonna make things better?" Logan asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

Alexandria didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the dark field ahead. “It’s easier this way. Less chance of someone screwing things up.”

“Yeah, 'cause being alone always solves everything,” Logan replied sarcastically. “Look, I get it. You’re used to keeping people at arm’s length. But if you keep shutting everyone out, you’re never gonna get what you need.”

“What I need is to be left alone,” Alexandria snapped. “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need a bunch of strangers telling me what to do.”

Logan took a few steps closer, the crunch of his boots on the gravel breaking the silence. “And how’s that working out for you? You ever stop to think that maybe you’re just scared to let anyone in?”

Alexandria shot him a sharp look. “I’m not scared. I’m practical. I know what happens when you let people get close.”

“And what’s that?” Logan asked, his voice low and steady.

“They get hurt,” Alexandria said flatly. “Or worse, they end up hurting you.”

Logan shook his head. “You’re making it sound like everyone’s out to get you. That’s not true. Some people actually want to help, but they can’t do it if you keep pushing them away.”

“Everyone is out to get me. I let someone in before and it didn’t end so well for them.” She shook her head gently, removing the graphic, bloody images from her head.

The anger and pain inside her were like a storm, churning and relentless. She didn’t know how to let anyone in, how to trust after everything she’d been through. HYDRA had stripped her of that ability, leaving her with nothing but suspicion and fear.

Logan sighed, taking another drag from his cigar. “Look, kid, I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. Hell, it’s probably gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But you’ve got a chance here, a real shot at something better. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared.”

Alexandria glanced at him, her expression softening ever so slightly. There was something in Logan’s eyes, a flicker of understanding that made her want to believe him. But the walls she’d built were high and thick, and she wasn’t sure she could tear them down.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan nodded, his gaze steady. “That’s all I’m asking. Just give it a shot.”

With that, he turned and walked back toward the mansion, leaving Alexandria alone with her thoughts. She watched him go, feeling a strange mix of frustration and hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of the darkness that had consumed her life for so long. But it would take more than a few words from a gruff stranger to convince her.

She stayed outside for a while longer, the cool night air helping to clear her mind. When she finally went back inside, the mansion was quiet, most of the residents already asleep. She made her way to her room, the events of the day playing over and over in her mind.

As she lay in bed, she thought about what Logan had said. She wasn’t ready to trust, not yet. But maybe, in time, she could find a way to let someone in. For now, she would take it one day at a time, trying to navigate this new world she’d been thrust into.

---

The following morning, Alexandria awoke to a soft knock on her door. She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes as the door opened slightly, and Kitty peeked her head in.

“Hey, sorry to wake you,” Kitty said with an apologetic smile. “But I thought you might want some breakfast. We have a pretty good spread in the dining hall.”

Alexandria stretched and nodded, still not fully awake. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Kitty.”

“No problem,” Kitty replied. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

After quickly changing into some clothes that fit her better, Alexandria joined Kitty in the hallway. The two girls walked to the dining hall together, the atmosphere between them more relaxed than it had been the previous day.

“So, how was your first night?” Kitty asked as they walked.

Alexandria shrugged. “It was okay, I guess. A lot to take in.”

Kitty nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I get that. But trust me, it gets better. The people here are really great once you get to know them.”

When they reached the dining hall, Alexandria was surprised to see how lively it was. Students were chatting, laughing, and eating together, the room filled with a sense of camaraderie and belonging. It was a stark contrast to the isolation she’d known for so long.

As they grabbed their food and sat down, Alexandria couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. But Kitty was friendly and patient, introducing her to some of the other students and helping her feel more at ease.

Alexandria looked at the food on her tray. Some of it was colorful, in fact, it all was. There were red triangular objects on her tray with a green leafy top, a fluffy golden-brown circle, and a small cup of amber liquid.

Alexandria stared at the food on her tray, her brow furrowed in confusion. She poked at the red triangular object with a fork, then glanced over at Kitty, who was already digging into her own breakfast.

“What’s this?” Alexandria asked, holding up the fork with the red object speared on the end.

Kitty looked over and grinned. “That’s a strawberry. Haven’t you had one before?”

Alexandria shook her head, eyeing the strawberry warily. “Not that I remember.”

Kitty’s expression softened. “You should try it. They’re pretty good.”

With some hesitation, Alexandria took a small bite of the strawberry. The sweet and slightly tangy taste was foreign to her, but not unpleasant. She nodded slowly, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s... different.”

Kitty laughed. “Yeah, in a good way, though. That round thing is a pancake, and the syrup is for pouring on top. Trust me, breakfast here is usually a highlight.”

Alexandria mimicked Kitty’s actions, pouring a small amount of syrup onto the pancake and taking a cautious bite. The flavors were rich and comforting, and she found herself enjoying it more than she expected.

As they ate, the din of the dining hall continued around them. Alexandria noticed how the other students seemed at ease, joking around and chatting as if they didn’t have a care in the world. It was strange to see so many people with powers like hers acting so... normal.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” Alexandria asked, trying to sound casual but feeling a bit lost.

“Well,” Kitty began, “after breakfast, there’s usually some training sessions. You’ll probably have an orientation with Professor Xavier and maybe some one-on-one time with one of the teachers to figure out where you’re at with your abilities.”

Alexandria nodded, pushing her half-finished pancake around on her plate. “Sounds like fun,” she muttered sarcastically.

Kitty smiled sympathetically. “It might not be as bad as you think. Plus, it’s good to know what you can do. There are some pretty cool things you could learn here.”

Alexandria took a sip of her juice, trying to ignore the bustling energy of the room. “Yeah, well, we'll see.”

Kitty looked around at the other students who were beginning to head off for their various activities. “Hey, you want me to show you around a bit more before the orientation starts? I can give you the rundown on some of the places you might want to know about.”

Alexandria shrugged, finishing off her pancake. “Sure, why not. Couldn’t hurt to know what I’m dealing with.”

Kitty led her out of the dining hall, guiding her through the maze of corridors. “So, that’s the library over there. It’s got a lot of books on pretty much everything—powers, history, science. It’s a good place to catch up on some reading.”

Alexandria glanced over. “Got it. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“And over here is the common room,” Kitty continued. “It’s where everyone hangs out, watches TV, plays games. It’s pretty chill.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a place I’ll avoid.”

Kitty laughed softly. “Fair enough. Oh, and there’s a small gym off to the side. It’s not as big as the main one, but it’s good for some light workouts.”

As they walked, Alexandria’s gaze drifted to the various students passing by, their casual conversations and easy smiles making her feel like an outsider. She didn’t belong here, and she wasn’t sure if she ever would.

“So, how do you get on with the teachers?” Alexandria asked, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from her discomfort.

Kitty’s expression turned thoughtful. “They’re pretty great, actually. Professor Xavier is really understanding, and Hank is super smart. There are a few others who are great too, but it depends on what you need.”

“Yeah? And what about Logan?” Alexandria asked, her tone a little sharper than she intended.

Kitty hesitated before answering. “Logan’s... Logan. He’s got his own way of doing things, but he means well. You’ll get used to him.”

“I met him the other night,” Alexandria said, her voice dropping to a murmur. “He didn’t seem all that interested in being nice.”

Kitty nodded. “That’s kind of his style. He’s not exactly a touchy-feely kind of guy, but he’s got a good heart. If you ever need anything, though, he might surprise you.”

“Yeah, I’m not holding my breath,” Alexandria muttered, more to herself than to Kitty.

Kitty gave her a sympathetic look. “Just keep an open mind. Things might not seem great now, but you might find some unexpected allies.”

As they reached the main area of the mansion where students gathered before heading to their various activities, Kitty turned to Alexandria. “I think we’ve covered the basics. How about we head to the training room? That’s where you’ll be meeting with Professor Xavier.”

Alexandria nodded, her mood lifting slightly at the prospect of getting some structure to her day. “Alright, lead the way.”

Kitty guided her through a series of hallways until they arrived at the training room. The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds of conversation and movement filtered through.

“Here we are,” Kitty said. “I’ll leave you to it. Good luck, Alexandria.”

“Thanks, Kitty,” Alexandria replied, watching as Kitty walked away. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping into the room.

Inside, Professor Xavier was waiting, his wheelchair positioned near a set of training equipment. He looked up as Alexandria entered, his expression warm and welcoming.

“Good morning, Alexandria,” he said. “I trust you’re settling in?”

Alexandria nodded, though she didn’t quite meet his gaze. “Yeah, I guess. Kitty gave me a quick tour.”

“That’s good to hear,” Professor Xavier said. “Today, I’d like to start with an assessment of your abilities. It’ll help us understand what you can do and how we can best support you.”

Alexandria braced herself, feeling a mix of nerves and irritation. “Alright. What do you need me to do?”

Professor Xavier gestured to an open area of the room. “Why don’t we start with a demonstration of your powers? If you’re comfortable, show me what you can do with dream-weaving and telekinesis.”

Alexandria took a deep breath and moved to the center of the room. She closed her eyes, focusing on her ability to manipulate dreams. She’d rarely demonstrated her powers to anyone outside of HYDRA, and the idea of doing it now made her uneasy.

She visualized a simple scenario- a peaceful meadow with gentle breezes and blooming flowers. The air around her seemed to shimmer slightly as the dreamscape began to take shape. When she opened her eyes, she saw that a small, serene meadow had appeared in the room, though it was more a projection than a physical space.

“Impressive,” Professor Xavier said, observing the scene with interest. “And what about telekinesis?”

Alexandria moved her hand slightly, and a nearby object- a small training ball- levitated off the ground, spinning slowly in the air, covered in her blue telekinetic hue. She held it there for a few moments before setting it back down.

“That’s very good,” Professor Xavier said. “You’ve got a strong control over your abilities. We’ll work on refining them and exploring how they can be used in various situations.”

Alexandria crossed her arms, still feeling the unease bubbling beneath the surface. “And what happens if I don’t want to use them?”

Professor Xavier’s expression remained calm, but there was a hint of concern in his eyes. “That’s entirely up to you. Our goal here isn’t to force you into anything, Alexandria. We’re here to help you understand your powers and give you the tools to decide how you want to use them, or not use them.”

She hesitated, her gaze drifting to the floor. “Yeah, well, understanding them didn’t really work out for me before.”

“Your experiences were under very different circumstances,” Professor Xavier said gently. “But you’re safe here, and you have the freedom to choose your path. No one here will push you into anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Alexandria looked up, meeting his gaze for a moment. There was sincerity in his words, and for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt a tiny spark of hope that maybe—just maybe—things could be different here.

“Alright,” she finally said, her voice a little softer. “What’s next?”

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” Professor Xavier said, his tone reassuring. “For now, I’d like you to get familiar with the training room and the equipment. You’ll be working with some of the other students, but if you ever need time alone, just let me or any of the teachers know.”

He led the way in his wheelchair to a different section of the training room, eerily familiar to the setup the Avengers had.

But she doesn’t like training rooms. Too many needles, wires, and electrodes attached to her and called ‘training’. It wasn’t training, it was torture. Studying her brainwaves, her movements, how her powers worked, it made her hate training.

While she’s partially sure there was none of that here, she still had to ask. Alexandria wrangled her hands before keeping them at her side, trying to seem normal and not at all disturbed. “There’s not… any- you know, electrodes or anything, is there?” she asked quietly.

Charles looked up at her, a hint of sadness in his eyes. It was the softest he had heard Alexandria’s voice since she arrived and the closest he had seen her act like her age. For a moment, he hesitated, weighing his words carefully.

“No, Alexandria,” he said gently, his tone reassuring. “There are no electrodes or anything of that sort here. This is a safe place for you to explore your abilities at your own pace. The only equipment you’ll use is designed to help you understand and control your powers better—nothing invasive, I promise.”

Alexandria nodded slowly, though the tension in her shoulders remained. “Okay,” she murmured, glancing around the room again. It was a lot to take in, but at least she wasn’t going to be hooked up to any machines. That was a relief.

Professor Xavier offered her a small, encouraging smile. “Would you like to try out some of the equipment now, or would you prefer to take a break and come back later?”

She hesitated, unsure of what she wanted. Part of her wanted to get it over with, to face whatever challenges were ahead, but another part of her just wanted to be alone, away from everything and everyone.

“I guess… I could try something small,” Alexandria finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just to see what it’s like.”

“Of course,” Professor Xavier replied, nodding approvingly. “Why don’t we start with something simple? We have a training dummy over there,” he gestured to a humanoid figure across the room, “that’s designed to react to telekinetic force. You can try moving it, just to get a feel for your abilities in a controlled environment.”

Alexandria followed his gaze to the dummy, her expression unreadable. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this whole thing, but she figured it was better than sitting around doing nothing. At least it was a distraction.

She approached the dummy slowly, her steps hesitant. When she was close enough, she raised her hand and focused on the dummy, trying to summon the telekinetic energy within her. For a moment, nothing happened, and she felt a flicker of frustration.

Then, with a deep breath, she tried again. This time, a faint blue aura surrounded the dummy, and it lifted off the ground slightly, wobbling in the air.

“Good,” Professor Xavier encouraged from behind her. “Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Alexandria’s brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to maintain control over the dummy. It wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be, and she could feel her frustration growing. The dummy began to wobble more, and she clenched her fists, willing it to stay steady.

But her frustration got the better of her, and the dummy suddenly shot across the room, slamming into the wall with a loud crash. Alexandria flinched, her hands dropping to her sides as she took a step back, her heart pounding.

“Sorry,” she muttered, feeling a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“There’s no need to apologize,” Professor Xavier said calmly. “You’re doing well, Alexandria. It’s natural to have moments of frustration, especially when you’re trying something new. The important thing is that you’re trying.”

Alexandria didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor. She hated feeling out of control, hated how her emotions seemed to dictate everything. It was a reminder of all the times she’d lost control in the past, with disastrous results.

Professor Xavier wheeled closer to her, his expression thoughtful. “Would you like to take a break? We can continue this later if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”

She shook her head, a stubborn look crossing her face. “No, I’m fine. I just… need a minute.”

“Take all the time you need,” Professor Xavier said softly. “There’s no pressure here, Alexandria. We’re here to help you, not to push you.”

Alexandria took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside her. She knew she couldn’t keep avoiding her powers forever, and maybe this was the best place to start figuring things out. But it was hard, harder than she’d expected.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, her voice steadier. “I’ll try again.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Professor Xavier encouraged.

She took another deep breath and focused on the dummy again. This time, she tried to keep her emotions in check, to approach it with a calmer mindset. The blue aura returned, and the dummy lifted off the ground once more. It wobbled slightly, but this time she was able to keep it steady, holding it in the air for a few moments before gently lowering it back to the ground.

“Good job, Alexandria,” Professor Xavier said, a note of pride in his voice. “You’re making progress.”

She nodded, a small sense of accomplishment filling her. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, she could get a handle on her powers after all.

“That should be good for today. I can have Kitty introduce you to some of the other students if you would like?” Charles asked.

Alexandria considered Professor Xavier’s suggestion, her mind still buzzing from the training session. Interacting with other students wasn’t high on her list of priorities, but she knew that isolating herself wasn’t going to help her in the long run. Still, the thought of making small talk or having to deal with people who would undoubtedly be curious about her past made her uneasy.

“I guess,” she said after a moment, shrugging. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

“Very well,” Professor Xavier replied with a nod. “I’ll have Kitty meet you outside the training room. She can introduce you to some of the others.”

Alexandria didn’t say anything, just nodded back, trying to suppress the anxiety that was bubbling up inside her. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she figured she might as well get it over with.

“Before you go,” Professor Xavier added, his tone gentle but firm, “remember that you’re not alone here. It might feel overwhelming now, but you’ll find your place in time. Be patient with yourself.”

“Yeah,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced but not wanting to argue either. “I’ll try.”

She turned and headed for the door, her footsteps echoing in the quiet training room. When she stepped outside, she found Kitty waiting for her, leaning against the wall with a friendly smile.

“Hey,” Kitty greeted, straightening up. “How’d it go?”

Alexandria shrugged. “It was fine, I guess. Just trying to figure things out.”

“That’s normal,” Kitty said, her voice light. “It takes time, but you’ll get there. Anyway, ready to meet some of the others?”

“I suppose,” Alexandria replied, her tone noncommittal. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, but she knew it was inevitable.

Kitty led her down the hallway, the sound of their footsteps the only noise between them for a moment. Alexandria could sense Kitty glancing at her occasionally, probably trying to gauge how she was feeling. She appreciated the effort, even if she wasn’t in the mood to talk about it.

“So,” Kitty began, breaking the silence, “I was thinking we could start with the common room. A lot of the students hang out there between classes and training sessions. It’s pretty laid-back.”

“Alright,” Alexandria said, keeping her responses short. She wasn’t trying to be rude, but she wasn’t sure how to engage in light conversation, especially with someone she barely knew.

When they reached the common room, Alexandria was struck by how relaxed everyone seemed. Students were scattered around the space, some playing video games, others watching TV, and a few just talking or reading.

“Over there’s Bobby,” Kitty said, nodding toward a guy who was absorbed in a video game. “He’s pretty chill, likes to freeze things.”

“Freeze things?” Alexandria asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, he’s got ice powers. Cool, right?” Kitty said with a grin.

“Sure,” Alexandria replied, trying to muster some enthusiasm but mostly feeling out of place.

“And that’s Jubilee,” Kitty continued, pointing out a girl with bright yellow sunglasses who was chatting animatedly with a couple of other students. “She’s a blast—literally. She can generate fireworks.”

“Fireworks,” Alexandria repeated, her tone flat. It sounded more like a party trick than a power, but she kept that thought to herself.

Kitty seemed to sense her unease and gave her a reassuring smile. “They’re all good people. It might take some time, but you’ll get to know them. And they’ll get to know you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Alexandria muttered, not entirely convinced.

As they walked further into the room, a familiar figure caught Alexandria’s eye. Logan was sitting in a corner, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched the room with a look of vague irritation. He hadn’t noticed her yet, and Alexandria wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Logan’s over there,” Kitty said, following her gaze. “You two met, right?”

“Yeah,” Alexandria replied, her voice tight. “Briefly.”

Kitty hesitated, picking up on the tension in Alexandria’s tone. “He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s one of the best. He’s been through a lot, like you.”

Alexandria’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need anyone comparing her to Logan or anyone else. “I’m sure he’s great,” she said, her tone clipped.

Kitty glanced at her but didn’t push the subject. Instead, she gestured to a group of students who were chatting near the windows. “Those are some of the newer students. Might be easier to talk to them since they’re still figuring things out too.”

Alexandria looked over at the group, noticing how at ease they seemed with each other. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. She hadn’t felt that kind of comfort around others in a long time, maybe ever.

“Maybe later,” she said, not ready to dive into socializing just yet.

Kitty nodded, understanding. “No rush. You can take your time.”

Alexandria looked over at the TV, a movie playing as a bunch of the students sat around the couch and the floors entranced by it.

“Oh, Scott likes to watch Star Wars, most of the time a lot of us end up joining in.” Kitty explained.

“What’s… Star Wars?” Alexandria asked slowly.

“It’s a movie- or well, a bunch of different movies and shows. It’s a franchise.”

Alexandria tilted her head at the large TV screen, currently a girl in an all-white dress kissed a dirty-blonde boy’s cheek before he swung them across some sort of room.

It was intriguing, or maybe that’s just because she’s never seen a movie.

Kitty noticed Alexandria’s gaze fixed on the TV screen, her curiosity evident. She gave her a gentle nudge, breaking the silence. “We can stay and watch it if you’d like. I’m sure Scott won’t mind. He’s a big geek about this stuff.”

Alexandria hesitated, glancing back at Kitty with a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue. “I’ve never really watched movies before.”

Kitty’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Never? Well, this is a good place to start. Star Wars is pretty iconic, and it’s one of those things that a lot of people here are into.”

Alexandria looked back at the screen, where a space battle was unfolding amidst flashing lights and dramatic music. The idea of sitting down and watching a movie felt foreign, but also oddly appealing. “Alright,” she said finally. “I guess I can give it a try.”

Kitty smiled, leading her over to the group around the TV. Scott, a tall guy with a pair of glasses perched on his nose, glanced up from the screen as they approached. “Hey, Kitty! And, um, Alexandria, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Alexandria replied, trying to sound more relaxed than she felt.

“Great to meet you properly,” Scott said with a friendly smile. “We’re just getting into one of the best parts. You’re welcome to join us.”

Alexandria nodded, taking a seat on the couch. The other students, already absorbed in the movie, barely glanced up, which was fine by her. She sank into the cushion, trying to focus on the action-packed scenes.

Kitty settled beside her, giving a small wave to Scott and the others. “I told her you’d be okay with us joining in.”

Scott nodded, adjusting his glasses as he turned back to the screen. “No problem at all. It’s always good to have more people to discuss the movie with. We’re in the middle of the epic lightsaber duel. It’s one of my favorite parts.”

As the movie progressed, Alexandria found herself drawn into the story. The special effects were unlike anything she had ever seen, and the characters seemed to be larger than life. She didn’t fully understand all the details yet, but there was something captivating about the narrative and the way the students reacted to it.

Kitty leaned over and whispered, “So, what do you think so far?”

“It’s… different,” Alexandria admitted, her eyes still fixed on the screen. “I can see why people like it.”

Kitty grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty immersive. And there’s a whole series of these movies, plus spin-offs and shows. It’s a bit of a rabbit hole.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “How many movies are there?”

“Quite a few,” Kitty said with a chuckle. “But you don’t have to watch them all at once. We can always catch up on more later if you’re interested.”

“Hold on, Kitty.” Scott said, “there’s a certain way it should be watched. Some will say release date order, some will say chronologically, but I say no to both. It should be Episode 4, 5, then 1, 2, 3, then 6.”

Alexandria’s eyes widened, “there’s… that many?”

“Well, technically more than that, but those are the ones that really count,” Scott said, his enthusiasm evident.

Alexandria leaned back on the couch, her eyes still glued to the screen. “I didn’t realize there was so much to it,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of amazement.

Kitty smiled. “Yeah, it can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it’s all part of the fun. You get to dive into this whole new universe.”

“You know what that means, right guys?” Scott asked.

A girl, sitting on the floor in front of Scott looked up at him, “Scott…” she gritted out, almost teasingly.

“Star Wars marathon!” Scott exclaimed.

Kitty leaned in to Alexandria as some of the kids groaned and others were amused. “That girl is Jean.” She gestured to the girl sitting in front of Scott, who was now rolling her eyes.

“Jean, huh?” Alexandria said, watching as Jean settled back into her spot on the floor, a bemused expression on her face.

“Yeah, she’s got some pretty impressive telepathic abilities,” Kitty said. “She’s one of the more powerful telepaths around here. But she’s cool.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. She thought back to the cubed shaped thing on her desk, if Scott knew all about movies, then maybe he knew about… whatever that was.

“Um, Scott? What’s that thing on the desk? The… cubed thing?” Alexandria asked.

“That’s a computer.” He answered, shoveling popcorn into his mouth. “Do you know how to use it?”

She shook her head no.

Scott’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t know how to use a computer?” He looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “It’s pretty basic. You can do a lot of things with it—surf the web, write documents, watch videos. But it takes some getting used to.”

Alexandria shrugged. “I’ve never seen one. What’s so special about it?”

Scott tilted his head, clearly intrigued by Alexandria’s unfamiliarity with something so commonplace. “Well, it’s one of those tools that make life a lot easier. It’s like a window to the world. You can find almost anything you need on the internet.”

Kitty, sensing that Alexandria was feeling out of her element, chimed in. “If you want, we can have a quick tutorial later. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Alexandria looked at the computer again, her curiosity piqued. “Maybe. For now, I guess I’ll just stick to figuring out this Star Wars thing.”

Scott grinned, clearly happy to have a new project. “We can definitely work on that. Maybe after the movie, we can set up a session to show you the basics.”

“Sure,” Alexandria said, her tone more engaged than before. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

---

After the group finished the movie, which was after Scott rewound it to the beginning for Alexandria, him and Kitty taught her how to use the computer before they had to go to class.

As she browsed the web, some term Scott used, she realized it was late at night, around 11 o’clock. She took a quick shower and got into what Jean called pajamas, before getting into bed.

Sleep couldn’t claim her. The problem with her powers was that she could see people’s dreams, which was fine when she was with HYDRA, since she was either far away from other people, or they put her in her specialized cell.

Once the clock hit 2:48, Alexandria got out of bed and grabbed a cigarette and her lighter from her bag before heading up to the roof.

Last night, Logan was smoking by the side door, but tonight, and possibly all other nights in the future, the roof seemed like a better, more quiet place.

Alexandria stepped out onto the roof, the cool night air greeting her with a briskness that made her shiver. She leaned against the railing, the city lights twinkling far below. She flicked the lighter, the tiny flame illuminating her face for a moment before she took a drag.

As she exhaled, the smoke curling into the night, she heard the faintest sound of movement behind her. It wasn’t unexpected; she had a feeling she wasn’t the only one who sought the quiet solitude of the rooftop at odd hours.

After a few minutes of peace, the door at the ground floor opened up, with Logan stepping outside and smoking his own cigar. She was glad she wasn’t down there; she had enough human interaction to last a lifetime.

As she looked up at the sky, she realized quickly that she’d never seen stars before. Which was out of the ordinary, or weird, considering most people connect nighttime and dreams with the stars.

Out here, where there were almost no other signs of civilization, the stars seemed to shine brighter than she thought possible.

Alexandria decided to sit on the ledge of the building, her legs dangling and swinging, hitting the brick’s gently as she continued to look up at the night sky, her cigarette forgotten in her hand.

Down on the ground, Logan was finishing his own cigar. He had come out to the side door for some fresh air, his usual gruff demeanor on full display as he paced, taking long, deliberate drags from his cigar. The rooftop wasn’t the only place in the mansion that offered solitude, but Logan found the chill of the night air soothing.

As he neared the side of the building, Logan noticed a faint sound of movement from above. He squinted up, barely making out Alexandria’s figure silhouetted against the night sky. He grunted and took another drag, deciding to keep to his own space rather than investigate further.

Alexandria’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the stars above providing a stark contrast to the chaos she had known. For a moment, she felt disconnected from her past, as if the night sky was a canvas offering a new beginning. She let the cigarette fall from her fingers, the small ember disappearing into the night air.

Suddenly, a light shone up from below, catching her attention. It was Logan’s cigar, glowing brightly as he took another drag. She couldn’t make out his face from this distance, but his presence was unmistakable. Alexandria’s instincts told her to retreat, to avoid any unnecessary interaction.

But Logan, in his usual fashion, wasn’t one to ignore an anomaly. He looked up again, his gaze searching for the source of the disturbance. The flicker of the cigarette's ember had caught his attention. He grunted softly, debating whether to climb the stairs or simply ignore it.

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of him. With a resigned sigh, Logan made his way to the rooftop access and began his ascent. As he approached, he could see Alexandria more clearly now- perched on the edge, seemingly lost in thought.

Logan didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Couldn’t sleep?” he called up to her, his voice carrying over the distance between them.

Alexandria looked down, her face expressionless. “Not really. Just needed some air.”

Logan grunted in acknowledgment. He walked over to the edge of the roof, leaning against the railing as he surveyed the view. “You got a problem with the stars or something?”

Alexandria shrugged. “No. Just never really seen them before.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her. “You mean to tell me you’ve never been outside much?”

Alexandria gave a short, bitter laugh. “Not until recently, no.”

Logan grunted, not quite sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t good with feelings, especially other people’s. He settled for taking another drag from his cigar, letting the silence hang between them for a moment.

"Not exactly the kind of thing you'd expect to hear around here," he finally said, more to himself than to her. “You’ve been through the wringer, huh?”

Alexandria nodded, her gaze still fixed on the stars. “You could say that.”

Logan watched her for a moment, trying to gauge what kind of person she was. She was tough, that much was obvious, but there was something else there too—something that reminded him a little too much of himself. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

He decided to keep it simple. “You’ll figure it out,” he said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “This place isn’t perfect, but it’s better than the alternatives.”

“Is it?” Alexandria asked, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism. “Or is it just another place with its own set of problems?”

Logan smirked, appreciating her bluntness. “Depends on how you look at it. Everyone’s got their own demons. But here, you might actually have a shot at dealing with ‘em.”

Alexandria shifted her gaze from the stars to Logan. “And what about you? What are you dealing with?”

Logan wasn’t one to open up about his past, especially not to someone he barely knew. But there was something about the way she asked the question—direct, no-nonsense—that made him consider it, if only for a second.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he said, deflecting. “Just focus on yourself for now.”

She didn’t press further, sensing that he wasn’t the type to share more than he wanted to. Instead, she nodded, accepting his answer without any more questions.

They stood in silence for a while, the night air cool against their skin. Logan was content with the quiet, but he could tell Alexandria was still restless.

“Why do you stay here?” Alexandria asked, breaking the silence but keeping her gaze on the stars.

Logan took a deep drag from his cigar, exhaling slowly as he considered her question. “It’s as good a place as any,” he replied, his tone neutral. “Better than most, actually. Got people here who understand.”

“Understand what?” she pressed, turning her eyes to him, searching for something in his expression.

Logan met her gaze, his own hard and unreadable. “What it’s like to have a past that doesn’t let go,” he said simply. “This place gives you a chance to move forward, if you let it.”

Alexandria snorted softly, a hint of bitterness in the sound. “Sounds like you’re trying to sell me something.”

Logan shrugged, unbothered by her cynicism. “Not selling anything. Just telling it like it is.”

She looked back at the sky, her fingers drumming lightly against the brick. “I’ve been around people who claimed they could help before. Never turned out well.”

“Yeah, well,” Logan said, flicking ash from his cigar, “this place isn’t perfect. But it’s different. Nobody here’s gonna bullshit you. And you’ll have to pull your own weight.”

Alexandria’s lips twitched in what could almost be mistaken for a smile, but there was no humor in it. “Pull my own weight. That I can do.”

“I’m sure,” Logan replied, his tone dry.

They lapsed back into silence, but it was less uncomfortable this time, as if they’d reached some sort of understanding. Alexandria leaned back on her hands, still sitting on the edge of the building, letting the night breeze cool her skin.

Logan finished his cigar and glanced over at her, noticing the way she seemed to relax, even if just a little. “You planning on sitting out here all night?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“Maybe,” Alexandria answered, noncommittal. “Why? You worried about me?”

Logan’s smirk was barely visible in the dim light. “Not my style to worry about anyone.”

“Good,” she replied, her tone matching his. “I don’t need anyone worrying about me.”

“Figured as much,” Logan said, pushing himself off the railing. “Just remember, you don’t have to do everything alone here. But you do have to show up. Can’t just hide out on rooftops.”

Alexandria gave a slight nod, acknowledging his words but not committing to anything. Logan didn’t push further; he’d said what he needed to say. With a final glance at her, he turned and headed back toward the door.

“Logan,” Alexandria called out, just as he reached the stairwell.

He paused, looking back at her. “Yeah?”

She hesitated, then shrugged, as if she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Thanks. For… you know.”

Logan gave a short nod, his expression softening just a fraction. “Don’t mention it.”

With that, he disappeared down the stairs, leaving Alexandria alone on the rooftop once more. She watched the door close behind him, then turned her attention back to the stars. Maybe this place was different.

[drewmeows]

Drew's Kinktober 2024

➤ please drop an ask in my inbox if you'd like to be added to the taglist! or feel free to turn on notifs!

➤ i am using this prompt list from @dreamlandcreations and will also be tagging all my posts under the hashtag #dlkinktober2024

➤ this is my very first kinktober and in fact, some of the first writing i've ever published so please go easy on me lol!!

➤ and last but not least, (almost) all of these fics are male character x gn!fem!reader, meaning pronouns are they/them for reader but they have a 'female' body. please be mindful of tags on individual posts, and enjoy!!

1. degradation with logan howlett (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

2. wet dream with wade wilson (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

3. phone sex with peter maximoff (apocalypse, 2016)

4. biting/marks with logan howlett (origins, 2009)

5. hunter/prey with logan howlett (pre x-men first class)

6. discipline with erik lehnsherr (first class, 2011)

7. praise kink with logan howlett (days of future past, 2014)

8. dirty talk with scott summers (x-men, 2000)

9. threesome with wade wilson & logan howlett (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

10. mirror sex with erik lehnsherr (days of future past, 2014)

11. choking with wade wilson & logan howlett (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

12. role reversal with logan howlett (days of future past, 2014)

13. daddy kink with logan howlett (logan, 2017)

14. face sitting with wade wilson (deadpool, 2016)

15. overstimulation with peter maximoff (apocalypse, 2016)

16. double penetration with wade wilson & logan howlett (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

17. bath/shower sex with scott summers (x-men, 2000)

18. face-fucking with logan howlett (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

19. competence kink with logan howlett (origins, 2009)

20. body worship with erik lehnsherr (days of future past, 2014)

21. thigh riding with logan howlett (logan, 2017)

22. size difference with wade wilson & logan howlett (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

23. sleepy sex with charles xavier (first class, 2011)

24. temperature play with logan howlett (the wolverine, 2013)

25. somnophilia with logan howlett (pre x-men first class)

26. breeding with logan howlett (origins, 2009)

27. a/b/o with logan howlett (logan, 2017)

28. voyuerism with scott summers (x-men, 2000)

29. sex pollen with wade wilson (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

30. age difference with logan howlett (deadpool & wolverine, 2024)

31. free choice with ...?

Header made by me

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[werdlewrites]

ł ฿Ɇ₵Ø₥Ɇ ĐɆ₳₮Ⱨ - ₱₳Ɽ₮ Ø₦Ɇ

masterlist - ao3 - twitter @ djomamma

PROCEED WITH CAUTION. TW AHEAD

summary: The shock of its truth momentarily numbs the pain in her body–or is it the Creature itself that steals away her agony? She finds herself no longer tense from labor but broken at the mere thought of her baby being stolen from her womb. Fresh tears fill tired eyes, pleading once more for her child’s life with hands raised protectively over her abdomen. “She’s all I have left.” warnings: UNALIVING, loss of family, mentions of blood and potential miscarriage, no logan in this part wc: 2,703

Next part

They say Death walks among us–among the living. An entity never to be seen as They wear a new skin to blend in with the neighbors and the public as They bump shoulders in the streets. They wear the face of someone yet to be created by God’s hand. A soul yet to experience the bizarre wonder and grace of fingers dancing through the universe to pluck and pull. To morph and build another success–another failure. Another lesson learned. Another dream tarnished and bruised before Death sweeps in for another claim in their final moments.

Some say Death wears the face of a familiar when They come for you. 

A man spends his life on the peak of mountains constructed by ambition and desire. Constantly in need of a new high, no matter how tall his achievement grows. He’s searching for a moment to end the torment of his mind–anything at all. The applause of his success dies down in the glass room of his office, and the hateful voices return in the quiet. They call him a failure despite all he’s done. He’s not good enough–he’ll never be what his family dreamt of. And eventually, he makes peace in knowing he’ll never escape his demons–not in this world, anyway. 

The glass breaks, and he feels free for those few seconds soaring alongside the birds. And when the world finally goes dark and the self-doubt ends, the face of his mother appears through the night to greet him. She takes hold of his now still hand–no longer trembling from anxiety–and they walk onward into the afterlife, guided by stars.

Just down the road, an elderly couple lies in bed. Weak but joyous laughter fills their home as they travel down memory lane the best a fading mind would allow. A full yet simple life had been spent under this one roof. Watching their babies learn and grow, then having children of their own to carry on the legacy of the ones who came before. They’d pick up Grandpa’s sense of humor and Grandma’s most treasured cherry crumb pie recipe. 

Her hands had gone weak with time. No longer able to bake but full of bliss as other attempts would slide across the table for each holiday. Her husband still cracks jokes–but forgets he already made the same one twice an hour ago. Still, they laugh, because one night, as the two are tucked deep into warm comforts, Death comes. They wear the face of the other partner to give comfort, taking them by the hand to help them from the bed until their souls are intertwined once more. Their minds are cleared from the heavy fog of age with newfound strength in younger bodies. 

Their family promises not to linger in sorrow. Eventually learning to laugh again at Grandpa’s comedic timing.

On October 30th, 1951, a woman cries out for Them–for it. Her torso is stretched out over the bed, back arched with fingers gripping and tearing at old sheets stained with blood. Thick hair is matted and stuck to glistening skin, with sweat dripping from her brow. The woman’s voice has grown hoarse, her throat dry and aching for water that’s far from her reach. She’s left paralyzed by the pain of every contraction and isolated from the world–from any help.

But still, she calls. 

She screams into the night. Begging for mercy, pleading for life. 

A crimson hand roams along her swollen belly, sobbing as she envisions the chaos brewing within. A precious life coming to a slow end as another contraction tries to force the baby out from her womb. Labor had begun hours ago, and somewhere between the first ache and now, something had gone wrong–she could feel it tearing apart her insides. But it wasn’t her own body that she mourned for–it was the child she had yet to meet.

With shaken knees and trembling hands, the mother struggles to climb up and lay across the mattress, her back to the rickety metal headboard, and her knees spread for any form of comfort. She pushes again and again, yet nothing ever comes. Hope is flickering out like a dying star in this little cottage out in the middle of nowhere. Her screams fade as exhaustion takes over, her body nearly surrendering to what was beyond her control.

The flames of a nearby fire have gone low, leaving the room much darker than it once had been. But look closely, and you’ll see the slightest tint of blue just beyond closed curtains. She wonders if she’ll ever see the sun again. If she’ll ever get the life she dreamed of with a child she prayed for. She’s left in a daze as scenarios play out in her mind, unaware of the Creature that emerges from a nearby shadow.

The floorboard creaks beneath its weight, and she turns to meet the icy blue stare of familiar eyes. Golden hair is tied back, just as it always had been. He had always been unwilling to cut long locks but always seemed irritated by the way they hung in his view. He looks just as she remembers–a knitted sweater, handcrafted by his wife, and dirtied jeans from hours spent wandering through nature, collecting logs for another fire on a cold night.

“Sam-” His name weakly falls from her lips. Barely audible yet somehow heard as the corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. 

The distance between them lessens, and the closer he becomes, the more a delirious woman gains clarity. He’s full of color–full of life. Unlike the man she found lying out in the bushes with grayed skin all those months ago. The light was long gone from once brilliant and loving eyes. Death had taken him without warning–and now They’ve come to finish the job while in the skin of her deceased husband.

He uses caution as he takes a seat just by her side, fingers slipping their way to entangle with her own, and she’s too weak to stop him. “You wear his face, but you’re-you’re not him,” she says in a whisper, lip trembling as she drinks in the sight of a man she loved and lost. “I know you.” The woman spits in a bitter tone, her jaw tight and teeth clenched.

The smile once etched into mimicked features fades, falling to a flat line with eyes staring straight through her soul. Her heart breaks all over again, right before Death. Aching and yearning for the warm touch of her companion. Hollow and desperate for the joy this child would give. The only piece of him that remained.

“Show your face.” 

The Being provides what is demanded without hesitation. Skin and fabric peeled away like old paint to dissipate in the crisp air of autumn. Heavenly strands of gold break away like shards of glass to never meet the ground. Blackened smoke spills out from every crack, enveloping Death and expanding until it towers above her, nearly reaching the angular ceiling of a lonely home. The space suddenly seems much smaller.

There are no defined features left of the entity, only a shadowy figure buried beneath the haze with piercing eyes in the abyss of nothingness. The body, if it could be described as such, was littered with hundreds of thousands of stars. They flicker in and out–some bigger than others. Some brighter or a different hue. Some say it’s every soul collected in a single night–perhaps only within a few hours, maybe even one. It’s immeasurable. And when you stare into the eyes of Death, it’s the last thing you consider.

The shock of its truth momentarily numbs the pain in her body–or is it the Creature itself that steals away her agony? She finds herself no longer tense from labor but broken at the mere thought of her baby being stolen from her womb. Fresh tears fill tired eyes, pleading once more for her child’s life with hands raised protectively over her abdomen. “She’s all I have left.”

A hand much larger than her own lays across to nearly engulf her entire belly, thumb soothing along the marked skin. Nothing is said between the two. The mother is left in the torment of the unknown, while the Being has already worked its way inside to greet a sleeping baby–unaware of the danger. Her life blossoms within Death’s eye. A child growing into a woman unlike any other gifted soul stolen from this world and moved to the next. A child already born of darkness–burdened by Sight.

It’s unknown how it all came to be that night. Maybe Death had grown tired. Or was it perhaps some twisted connection? The mother doesn’t ask, and Death would never tell. But, by the morning of October 31st, Dawn Rosalin Kennedy takes her first breath–her first wailing cry–before falling asleep against her mother's chest. She’s finally safe and remains protected throughout her years.

She grows–just as They envisioned. Picturesque with pudgy cheeks and a dimpled smile as small fingers pluck wildflowers. Her mother tends to the garden just nearby, trusting in the universe that her only child is safe from any harm that may lurk beyond the treeline. And that trust does not go misplaced. The Creature has shown itself on more than one occasion. Sitting at the small dinner table in total silence unless spoken to–watching as the two girls eat a homemade meal.

Every visit They come bearing a new mask, and the girl sees right through it. An unknown man standing before her in the same field where her father died. A stoic expression set alight in the summer’s glow as the entity studied the child. Her doe eyes are on him–quizzical and bewildered until their true form is seen tall above the husk. The shadow of a monster–a God.

Her smile is full of innocence and love. Entirely unafraid of this otherworldly Creature and the heartache it brings. Dawn Rosalin can only see the beauty within it as stars burn brightly in the darkness. The girl offers out a dandelion in kindness, and Death instructs the body it wears to take it with grace, kneeling to her level with a gentle look in adoring eyes.

Time passes, and the child becomes a woman. She’s full of experience–venturing out beyond the grassy fields and into the city. The site alone of so many people was dizzying–the tall buildings sent her stumbling back in awe and wonder. Dawn grew to love this new world–yet always returned to that quiet cabin for the company that waited for her. And the value of that company grew stronger the sicker her mother became, and those city trips dwindled to non-existent.

Disease had wormed its way inside–eating her alive bit by bit. Her skin thinned and bruised, even after agreeing to receive treatment. It was an unstoppable monster, and Dawn could only point the finger of blame at the beast that began to linger in the home more frequently. Death was patient, but she was not.

“This is all your fault.” She would spit. Every slice of carrot was a little harder than the last, leaving indents on the wooden board. She chopped, crushed, and prepared dinner–hardly focusing and moving in a blur as anger took over. Dawn had become a storm–wrapped in unseen danger as she flew across the small kitchen, knife in hand.

The Being sits in all its mystery and glory–no mask used for comfort as the efforts were wasted on the girl with Sight. They have shrunken themselves to fit beneath the short roof, sitting quietly on a stool just at the corner of the room. Eyes built from galaxies follow after her on instinct–unblinking and focused, even as the mother shares an agonizing cough just in the other room–blood spit into her palm.

“You saved us for what?” Dawn says as she spins on her heel, facing the Creature without fear. “Just t’take her from me? You should have put us both out of our fucking misery!”

Death says nothing, nor does the stare break from her scowling features. Her hatred has been heard over a million times in various other situations. The denial–a lack of acceptance as all that is loved must come to an end. Babies, friends, neighbors, and strangers must all succumb to the darkness. Death is inevitable.

“ł ₳₥ ₦Ø₮ ₣₳₮Ɇ.” They speak in defense. Millions of voices echo and climb over one another, dancing through the painful air of a bitter winter. “ł ₳₥ ₮ⱧɆ ฿Ɽł₦₲ɆⱤ Ø₣ ₱Ɇ₳₵Ɇ.”

The girl would laugh in disbelief if she hadn’t been in so much pain. Every ounce of energy spent to hold herself upright. To stand tall against the tsunami threatening to crush her in its fury. Should she let it, she fears she may never stand again. “D’you see peace anywhere?” 

Death is slow to stand. And despite the smaller size, its form still towers high above the girl–once seen as an ant in its eye. The knife she flicked back and forth carelessly slips in through the hazy sternum as the distance is lessened. It stands with the hilt–her hand–nearly buried among the scattered souls. A constant galaxy spiraling and filling up before being released into the afterlife. 

Another cough–another gasp as the older woman struggles to breathe in her bed, and all focus lands on her empty doorway. Each time Dawn looks, she hopes to wake up from this nightmare and find a healthy mother smiling in her direction. 

Nothing ever changes.

“₴ⱧɆ ₩łⱠⱠ.”

The Creature earns another glare, though it goes unnoticed. All of its attention is on the space where a dying woman lies–simply waiting for her final moments. A final breath and a weak goodbye. The tears that build in the girl's eyes bring no amount of guilt for what is meant to be done. No amount of sorrow or empathy. But, as they spill, a ghostly hand wipes them away with a soothing touch.

“You saved me,” Dawn mutters through gritted teeth. “Why can’t you save her?”

“ł ₵₳₦₦Ø₮ ₵Ⱨ₳₦₲Ɇ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ł₴ ₳ⱠⱤɆ₳ĐɎ ₩Ɽł₮₮Ɇ₦. ɎØɄⱤ VɆⱤɎ ɆӾł₴₮Ɇ₦₵Ɇ ₴₳Ɏ₴ ₣₳₮Ɇ Ⱨ₳Đ ₱Ⱡ₳₦₴ ₣ØⱤ ɎØɄ. ɎØɄ ₩ɆⱤɆ ₦Ø₮ ₩ⱧØ ł ₵₳₥Ɇ ₣ØⱤ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₦ł₲Ⱨ₮.”

A trembling lip stills and her hold on the knife loosens. Nearly slipping from her grasp as it hangs at her side. Realization falls upon her like that threatening wave on the horizon–breaking through her chest and sucking every breath from her lungs by the sheer force of it. Her mother was walking the thin line between life and death the moment labor had begun. Death simply extended her time to give her what she longed for–and what the child needed.

And now that extension had reached its end. Death does not wear the face of someone she loved like They once had. The Being appears in its true form–sitting at her side with Dawn on the left, clutching a frail hand. Peace had been made, though the emptiness of her loss weighed heavy on the girl. Her eyes were dry–tears swallowed up by the hollow dessert of her heart, just trying to survive another moment–a second.

It’s different this time. Different than the pleas for protection all those years ago. She begs for release in a voice that no longer sounds like the woman Dawn adored. Someone with nothing left as Death takes her hand and guides her from the bed. The soul pries itself from the host, unable to tear an entranced gaze away from the twinkling abyss, before her hazy form flickers and fades into the tiniest ball of light in the palm of Death.

“Where will you take her?”

Eyes study as the star slowly embeds itself into the darkness. Dancing through time and space with strangers and family, finally granted an eternity without pain or loss. “₮Ø ɎØɄⱤ ₣₳₮ⱧɆⱤ.”

The girl nods along in acknowledgment. Her fingers squeezing around the hand that no longer held her—no longer combed through tangled hair at night when dreams turned to ugly nightmares. No longer dug through the dirt to pull vegetables from the garden or flip through the pages of a favorite story. “I don’t want t’be alone.”

“ɎØɄ ₦ɆVɆⱤ ₩łⱠⱠ ฿Ɇ.”

[remussl0vers]

requesting guide

updated: 17.06.23

please make sure to read this before requesting anything — i'm hoping that you'll respect my boundaries on what am i comfortable with and with not writing.

MASTERLIST

I tend to curse often in my fics, and are usually comfortable with covering more serious topics, so make sure to check the content warning before hand. I always write warnings when I believe they're needed, but do let me know if you think something should be added!

also senders may request as many as they want <3

FORMS OF WRITING :

oneshot

imagine

headcanon

series

alphabet

I tend to write oneshots over 1000 words, so if you want feel free to specify if you want a long or short story.

CONTENT I WRITE :

fluff

angst

sensitive / triggering topics

gore

smut / spice

most tropes ( best at friends to lovers )

I'm pretty comfortable with writing sensitive topics as well as angst ( anyone who's read my works before will know that they're the things I write best ) however, if I'm not comfortable with the topic as a whole I will DM you, or possibly put it off for a while.

*If you have a writing prompt from somewhere as well, feel free to send it through !!

CHARACTERS :

male reader / ftm

gender neutral

genderfluid

original character

I do not write female readers / characters anymore. If there aren't specified pronouns then I will write it as a male character.

There are also some characters I only feel comfortable writing for with a male reader/character and vice versa, which I'll note who.

PAIRINGS :

love interests

platonic

family

polyamorous ships ; depends on the character

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE :

support of homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia, racism, sexism, pedophilia, incest ; if they're mentioned in a request in terms of the character being bullied / abused ( in the past ) then i may write it but NOT explicitly, only a mention

a pairing against a character's canon sexuality

rape

pregnancy

female reader

anime

WHO I WRITE FOR :

DEAD BOY DETECTIVES :

charles rowland

edwin payne

monty

niko sasaki ( not romantic )

crystal palace ( not romantic )

DESCENDANTS :

ben beast

harry hook

carlos de vil

jay

mal bertha

evie grimhilde

LOCKWOOD & CO :

anthony lockwood

lucy carlyle

george karim

quill kipps ( friends / family only )

MARAUDERS :

remus lupin

sirius black

regulus black

james potter

lily evans ( not romantic )

evan rosier

barty crouch jr

marlene mckinnon ( not romantic )

dorcas meadows ( not romantic )

pandora lovegood ( not romantic )

mary mcdonald ( not romantic )

MARVEL :

peter parker / spiderman ( tom and andrew )

loki laufeyson

kate bishop

yelena belova ( not romantic )

steve rogers

bucky barnes

pietro maximoff

wanda maximoff

valkyrie ( not romantic )

natasha romanoff

tony stark ( not romantic )

gwen stacy ( emma stone )

gwen stacy ( atsv )

*marvel and particularly the mcu is a fandom i'm more comfortable with than most, so if there is a character not listed, then i may or may not write for them

NARNIA :

prince caspian

peter pevensie

edmund pevensie ( only during dawn treader )

SHADOW AND BONE / SIX OF CROWS :

kaz brekker

inej ghafa

jesper fahey

wylan van eck

nina zenik

alina starkov

nikolai lantsov

genya safin ( not romantic )

matthias helvar

STRANGER THINGS :

steve harrington

jonathon byers

max mayfield

robin buckley ( not romantic )

TEEN WOLF :

stiles stilinski ( *i will take most/all dylan obrien characters )

isaac lahey

scott mccall

liam dunbar ( not romantic )

allison argent

malia tate

lydia martin ( not romantic )

kira yukimura

derek hale

THE HUNGER GAMES :

finnick odair

peeta mellark

katniss everdeen

THE MAZE RUNNER :

newt

thomas

minho

X-MEN :

logan howlett

charles xavier ( james mcavoy )

jean grey

mystique

rogue

erik lehnsherr ( not romantic )

wade wilson / deadpool

kitty pryde

bobby drake

*FANDOMS COMING SOON : PJO, DISNEY

[wolvbrattxx]

Family matters (part two)

Summary: After the horrible introduction to each other, Logan wants to find Loren and to talk to her privately. However, when the two of them meet in the laboratory, a heated conflict ruins the attempt to rebuild a lost friendship. Loren's prejudice holds her, not allowing Logan to get close. Tags: Hugh Jackman!Logan, Ororor's sister!Loren, angst, self-doubt, regrets, conflict, oc x canon, alcohol, smoking, swearing. Word count: 4164 Previous chapter

More than a week passed since Logan has last seen Loren.

Surprisingly, nothing much has happened during that time. Jean remained in coma, but her condition improved day by day. Scott's physical state was the same, as he was struggling to walk and perform primary abilities. Only Ororo seemed happier than ever - a dazing smile never failed to leave her face, making her the embodiment of the sun itself. It seemed like even the biggest tragedy couldn't affect her bright mood. How else can one feel, when your beloved one is always in your sight? Henry was less seen, as he spent most of his time in the laboratory working with dear friend - Loren.

For Logan, each day of the week was bland and depressing.

Something turned in inside, making his world spin round and round, ever since Scott took revenge on Logan. Though he couldn't hide his grumpiness from the suffering one, his features seemed softer as their eyes met in the hallways. He tried to help Scott rebuild the damaged body, but his efforts were discarded into the void, as Scott always pushed his help away. Hell, the old man even tried to apologize for his actions, but it didn't reach the other. Scott didn't even want Logan to come near him, let alone help him. He still felt pain and disgust after seeing Jean cheating with Logan. He couldn't possibly bear it, his feelings (perhaps pride, disappointment, betrayal, self-pity) didn't allow it. Soon enough, Logan gave up and found the weight on his shoulders too heavy to handle. He couldn't erase the past, but even the attempt to fix and make up for it didn't provide any help whatsoever.

Here he was, sitting by an old oak tree, which wasn't any special than others that surrounded him. He let out small puffs of his cheap cigar's smoke and drank his even cheaper beer in the middle of the night. Stars shone like tiny pearls through the veined leaves, irritating his already red eyes. They were the only ones that were trying to comfort his mood in this evening, even attempting to invite him to get some rest. Logan wished to get drunk at least once in his lifetime, so it could provide at least any ease to his heavy mind, but it was impossible with regenerative powers. Being alone didn't really bother him, as anyone else seemed to annoy him, even though he secretly dreamed to meet Loren again. He wanted to make up for the horrible introduction, prove her that he isn't just some kind of scum. After all, Logan was just a lost man in a terrible world that either took everything from him or wanted to destroy him.

The days went off fine as Logan trained with his team members or students in the danger room. It made him forget everything that happened for the week, as training required full concentration and attention, leaving no time to focus on harsh thoughts or regrets.

Most of his evening were also occupied with a couple of his drunk buddies: Rogue and Remy. Both of them made Logan's gloomy feelings disappear, surrounding his mind with carelessness, laughter and annoying chattering that made him out of touch with the reality. Yet, he always had to act as a father for the two, helping them to reach their beds while carrying jelly-like bodies into their rooms. Overall, both provided comforting company, as they weren't judgeful. Rogue and Gambit still saw Logan as a member of their strange family and wanted to make his depressing days happier even in a slightest bit.

"Suga', we all do somethin' stupid once in a while'. No need to beat ya'self up like' that. Heck, even I made plenty." Rogue used to say, patting Logan's shoulder with a hiccup interrupting her words.

"Exactly, mon ami, don't let it get to you. Time will help you, only time." Remy added, nodding his head to Rogue's words.

Sadly, that wasn't enough, as dark thoughts were making him fall into a deeper pit of sorrow. Sleeplessness creeped in and once again, every night was filled with nightmares.

Logan rubbed his tired face, massaging the tensed facial muscles. He wanted to disappear again, like he did once before. At least for a year or so. Then everyone's lives will go back to how it was before his arrival: peaceful, flowing, progressing. Scott and Jean could make up for the past, start their own little family together and Logan would move on. Perhaps. At least that's what he wanted to imagine, though it seemed impossible, realistically speaking. He felt so tired of feeling lonely, forgotten or left out over someone else. He wanted to feel something softer, something that would make him feel lighter and happier, but was it truly possible?

His eyes wandered at the mansion that proudly stood in the middle of nowhere and noticed the bright lights in the laboratory. Hank must be working on something, Logan smiled at the idea. It wouldn't hurt to give him a visit, would it?

Logan stood up on his feet that were paralyzed by stillness, trying to get them back to work while stretching his entire body. He picked up the empty bottles, knowing that Charles would definitely give him some comments if he'd leave them, as if the professor was Logan's own father, and threw them out into the trash can. The fog rose above the pond and slowly swallowed everything that got in it's way, but the light still showed the way into the mansion. And so, he dragged heavy feet inside, making his way into the laboratory.

Hank was a good listener, was maybe opening up to him could ease thoughts? After all, he had a baggage of wise words, once said by the famous philosophers of the past or written by the best novelists/poets.

The automatic door slowly opened, recognizing Logan as a member of the institution and the part of the X-Men. Firstly, his ears were met by the unnerving sound of computer's keyboard clicking, clacking and pop hits of 2000's, supplemented with soft melodic humming. The last two sounds didn't even remind him of Hank's usual repertoire, as it was necessary to play classical music at such a time to keep him focused on the task.

Logan took a single steep inside and curiously looked to the side, where the working table could be found. He was slightly shocked to find Loren sitting in front of the computer, though it was late already. Out of all times, it was this one that they had to meet. She clearly didn't expect visitors as well, and her pajamas made sure to notify that. She wore loose black pants and a tight white tank top, hiding her short white hair in a black silky bonnet. The look of her face seemed worse since dark circles surrounded those icy eyes, making her look as if she hasn't slept for days and her dark skin slightly paled, hinting that she was probably malnourished in the process. Her state tried to tell him that she was about to go to sleep, but it was far from truth. The amount of mugs told another story: the strong black coffee's scent in the air hit nostrils' so deeply, that it made his head spin.

Loren's head turned to greet the stranger that interrupted her work in the middle of the night. She couldn't erase the annoyance off her face since the intruder made her lose an incredible thought. Her eyes fluttered in shock as she witnessed Logan staring at her, but quickly relaxed and her brows faintly furrowed into their natural state.

"Oh, it's you, Logan. Need something?"

Logan blinked for a couple of times and cleared his throat. "Was searching for Hank, is he on a break or-"

"Sleeping." She cut him off, turning back to work, clearly screaming from her posture: 'leave me alone'.

"I see." Logan mumbled silently, but his feet didn't move from where he stood.

Loren typed something fast on the computer. Logan peeped his head to the side to see what's she was doing. It looked confusing, he wasn't sure of what he saw: programming, science, equations, scales, diagrams. So many things that he couldn't wrap his head around, but it made him feel respect to the hard work that she was obviously putting. Logan wanted to converse with Loren, at least for a little bit, try to rebuild something. There couldn't be harm in trying.

"What you've been up to?" Logan started, his voice not as confident as he wished.

"Solving problems, trying to make our gear better." She replied, not breaking her eye contact with the screen.

"Must be hard."

Loren hummed in response, agreeing with his words.

Another minute of silence passed. Logan bit his lip, trying to get something in his mind, but it was harder than it looked. He took careful steps closer to her, glancing over her shoulder.

"What you've been studying?"

"Look," Loren flipped her chair to Logan's side and her expression was brutal. Her tired eyes narrowed to slits, glaring without a single blink and her eyebrows pressed closer to one another. Her voice was loud enough to put one into place. "I don't know if you can see, but I'm working. I'm really not interested to talk right now. Go bother someone else; I'm sure you'll find company."

Logan stumbled back after such an attack. It caught him off-guard. He wondered was it something that he said that made her mood turn. Sure, she was absolutely tired, but was such attitude necessary? He felt his defense rising up slowly, as he confidently placed his feet on the ground.

"What's up in your ass?"

"Thought that I've made my stance clear last time we saw each other, no?" She sneered at Logan, still not backing down her ground.

"Oh, that I'm a shameless brute?" Logan replied, his jaw visibly tensing. "Heard that before, no worries, bub."

"Bub? Who do you think you are to call me that?" Loren stood up and took fierce steps forward, making the chair almost fall down from her powerful moves.

"What? Don't like it?" Logan crossed his arms against the muscular chest. "Want me to call you princess instead?"

Loren's eyelid twitched.

"I don't have a problem with the nickname. My only problem is that you're calling me that," she stood right in front of him, almost spitting those words in his face. "I hate infidelity and I hate those, who take part in it."

"So that's your problem," Logan felt his eyes flickering from the anger and sorrow building up on his tongue. "Infidelity." He laughed, almost mockingly.

"Laugh all you want, asshole, but I will support Scott in this."

"Oh no, that made me shiver!" He raised his hands up in defense, trying to ridicule her.

"Don't mock me. You don't understand how it feels to see your friends breaking up over a tiny interest. Trust me, you mean nothing to Jean, no offense," Loren pointed a finger at his sternum and poked it. "I've seen them go through heaven and hell together. They've been through too much, seen too much, talked too much, dreamed too much of their future together, so your presence in Jean's life is a mere adventure to her. I'm saying this not only for their good, but for your own as well. Have some self-respect for god's sake; don't dip your fucking feet into an established relationship. You act like there are no other women in this world."

Logan took a step back again, hardly believing that Ororo's sister had such a sharp tongue. Gambit wasn't lying when he said that Loren could be a bigger storm then her own sister. His head spun from the emotions that were starting to choke him.

"Jean was to first one to understand me."

"So you'll fall for any woman who will understand you, is that it?" Loren's voice rose into a shout.

"You don't choose who to love, y'know?" He replied slowly to her harsh words.

"But you can choose to step back." She talked back, not even trying to hide her disgust.

"You don't get it." Logan turned to leave. It wasn't worth to continue this pointless conversation.

"Don't get what?" Loren scorned, pacing after his footsteps.

"You don't get that I understand what my stupid ass actions made me pay for," he faced her once more, stopping at the door that has already opened. "I understand that what I did was wrong. Hell, I did it from impulse and must admit: it was a dumb decision. I've tried to make for it."

"How? You're talking like it's possible to change the past... It's something hard to forgive for, you know."

"I look like a dumbass, that's a fact, but as a smart woman, you shouldn't forget that there is more to people than past mistakes. Try to look deeper sometime, not just at the surface," Logan cut off the conversation with those last words and walked out of the laboratory. "Night', Loren."

The door closed behind him in a perfect timing.

Logan took few steps forward and felt weak in his knees. He leaned against the metallic wall and slid down to the ground, feeling defeated. That woman definitely caused a storm in both mind and heart. For the first in the whole week, he felt sleepy in his dreadful thoughts that were trying to drown him deeper in sorrow. Thankfully, Loren didn't rush after him with her cruel remarks, he was sure that she would poke fun of his current helplessness. Logan sighed into his hands that were rubbing the fatigue out of eyes. Finally, his body gave in to the efforts to stand up and reach his bedroom. He planted heavy steps ahead under duress, his eyes fixating on the cold ground. At such a minute, he felt like blacking out by the chronic fatigue that followed him for the entire week.

Luckily, Logan managed to reach his destination and collapsed on the bed, fully clothed, as all of his energy suddenly disappeared.

The morning started slowly, but as per usual. The night provided refreshment once again. Fatigue can do something nice once in a while, it seems.

Logan washed up; dressed differently today, only changing his flare jeans into tighter ones and tank top into a flannel shirt, but the leather jacket had to stay on as a rule.

This morning he felt the need to talk with someone of the things that bothered him for a while now. Out of all options, he chose the professor, who will surely try to understand his concerns. So, Logan rocked forward through the hallways, being friendly around kids that looked up to him and friendlier with those, that caught his heart dearly.

However, surprises can't be unseen at some times.

Once again, out of all days, it was this one that Loren finally walked pass him in the hallway. She looked better than yesterday, but still tired, hurrying somewhere. She carried a ton of books in one hand, constantly checking her clock, while her shoulder was leaning down from the weight of the papers.

Once Loren realized, that Logan headed right before her view, she quickly grasped his arm.

He glanced at the side where he the sudden touch and cocked a brow at her. The pleasant smell of tobacco caught his senses, as it rose directly from her rich dark skin.

"Logan..." Loren started, immersing her gaze on to the creaking wooden floor, which was ornamented with brilliant symbols. Suddenly, she snapped out of her daze and looked at the clock on her hand, hissing silently at it. "I have to go, let's catch up later, okay?"

Loren ran away without giving Logan a chance to reply, just to follow her figure with his eyes that was slowly fading away in the corridor.

Soon enough, Logan knocked on Xavier's door, making sure that he was alone before entering the office. Then a familiar raspy voice, with a calm accent spoke in his head: 'come in'.

Professor sat in front of the large window, absorbing all of the sunlight. Ororo's happiness expressed itself in a delight: the sun barely left the sky after the reunion of two sisters; of course, sometimes the days were rainy, in order for the earth to regain strength from golden sunshine's influence. The dust flew from one bookshelf to another in the large room, becoming the stars it. This picture transferred the tranquility that was searched for.

"I sense that something is bothering you, Logan?" Charles turned his head to Logan and offered him to rest in the brown-leathered armchair with his inviting gaze.

Logan nodded, as he sat down.

"It's just... That lately..." He scratched the back of his neck, not even knowing where to start, leaning his elbows against knees. He wasn't used to opening up to anyone, not even to someone as wise as the professor. He sighed heavily, regretting his choice to come here already.

"Take your time." Charles interrupted his thoughts, recognizing how hard it must be for Logan to show his true emotions.

The silence that provided comfort at first soon enough became too loud to handle, squealing in his ears. Logan rubbed his palms together, nervously stroking the harsh skin. The intensity of professor's stare into his soul made him search for a way of how to open up faster: how to destroy the walls that were ready to break. All he needed was a little push and so, he leaped into the unknown.

"I don't know what's gotten into me... I want to run away for some time. From everything." Logan spat out those words in a single breath.

"And why is that?" Charles rolled his wheelchair closer to get a better sight of Logan's pained face.

"I feel like I've matters worse here."

"Nonsense, you have made our future brighter. You us helped to conquer heavy tasks, have you not?"

"But maybe they happened, because I was there. It feels like wherever I'd go, somethin' horrible might happen..."

"However, all goes well each time, because you know how to stop it, do you not?"

"Not like I have a choice to stand back. I just think that everything was better before I got here. I don't wanna' cause trouble or somethin'."

"And you are a gift to us, Logan, not a burden."

"How can I be a gift to y'all, when all I do is ruin things?"

Charles chuckled while the sunrays danced in his eyes.

"My students have always had their own personal struggles and the same doubts as your own. The fate of a mutant is to feel that you might become dangerous to those around you. You know how to control your gift, but you do not understand how to propel the danger that comes into your life, your bubble, from the outside world. Logan, you are no danger to us, our lives are already in danger each time we try to prove the world that this cycle of abuse is wrong. You happened to be in the process and yet helped to overcome those hardships. All has happened not because you are here with us; it happened, because you are here with us. But I believe that your concerns grew after the events with Jean, am I right?"

Logan huffed, hanging his head lowly. A reflex kicked in: a hand lowering to his pocket, searching for a cigar, but he forgot that professor sat in front of him with a warning look written all over his face.

"You are driven by your impulses, Logan, desires and secret wishes. It is only natural to act in such a manner, but we must control ourselves at all costs, as self-restrain may provide us a brighter path to our destiny. Though I cannot interfere with your relationships and your hopes of the future, as I do not have such a right to do so, but I want to give you an advice, because I care for you. You are dear to me, Logan, so allow me to speak further," Charles drew closer to the armchair where Logan sat silently and took his hand, making him look up. It felt like Charles was older than Logan, like a father, even though it was quite the opposite. "I believe that you can now see that Jean is not meant for you, as she has chosen another. Love is a strange thing, I know it from my experience, but you must not be blind to everything else in life. If she is not destined to be with, it does not mean the end of your world. There is so much more to your life, so please: explore it. Find peace with your friends, find joy in the outside world that is awaiting for you and move on from your heartaches, as they cannot change a thing. Furthermore, have you not seen more women that would even outshine Jean in your life? You deserve to be a first option for someone, not a second one. Find someone who will appreciate you, celebrate you and choose you firstly, even if you would not be the best option. Silly, is it not? However, I believe that someone in this world could understand you better than Jean. Yes, she has helped you to witness a glimpse of your past and discover yourself, but she will never help you to understand yourself better. Give love a second chance and be sure: you can find someone better in your life. I truly love Jean as my own, but I know her far more than you do and I understand that only Scott can be her equal. You are far from that, Logan, and that is not considered a bad thing, because you all are different. You must find the puzzle piece that will fit you in life. If you must travel, then go and rest, but please know that you are more than welcome here. You are a part of our big family and we shall always celebrate your existence."

Logan listened to Charles patiently, forgetting to breathe at times or to blink. Silence covered the both of them. He was in awe of professor's words, feeling inspired, even motivated, as demons retreated from the back of the mind. His chest still felt a pang here and there, but it was far better than before. A soft, relieved smile drew his lips up, as Xavier looked divine in the gleaming sunlight, shinning behind him and over his figure. Logan couldn't understand where his wisdom came from and felt the irony on his tongue since he was far older, but surely stupider.

"Did I do a good job?" Charles laughed to a certain extent, breaking the long pause.

"As always, Chuck. As always."

"Good, now go, I have to prepare for a class with Miss Loren." Charles turned around immediately and strolled towards the chalkboard.

"So she's a teach' as well?" Logan spoke up again and he slowly stood up from the comfortable armchair. "Oh, about her... Did you tell her of what happened?"

"Yes, but I can sense that Scott made an impact on her, with his revenge taken upon you." Charles took the chalks from the desk, masking his fingers with the white powder, and dragged his hand up and down, drawing lines and figures in order to explain some sort of laws of physics to his students. "Therefore, it makes sense why the two of you had an argument yesterday."

"How'd you know?"

"I know everything, Logan," Charles chuckled, as if it should be obvious already. "You must understand that I hear all heartaches and complains of one another. Every week. Even though you all are adults, sometimes you act as children and I suppose that someone has to take the role of a parent, no? Well, Loren came today just before you, and I have done my best to prove her my point, that her prejudice against you is more than wrong. Give her some time to rethink. She is a remarkable woman, but sometimes a sense of pride can overshine her inner beauty. Please, be sure that she is not against you. Loren has strong principles and follows them by heart, but someone must remind her from time to time that there is more to the surface."

"You took my words from yesterday..." Logan pointed his finger at the professor's back with a tiny grin.

"Those are wise words. I can learn something from you too," Charles turned back, with an audible snicker escaping his slim lips. "Now, be gone. I need to prepare for the upcoming class."

Logan drew his hand up to express his farewells and walked out of the office. A glimpse of hope shone inside of him, leaving space for new beginning.

[thefandomfires]

Chapter 8 of In Between the Shadows is posted

Remy LeBeau/OFC

Link to Chapter 8

Summary

After a battle with Magneto, the X-men and mutants are accidentally revealed to the world. As the humans try to come to terms with this revelation, some want to make sure the mutants know they’re not welcome.

Neighbors begin to turn on each other and one seemingly human girl, Morana Cain, is caught in the crossfire.

When her life is turned upside down, something starts happening to her. She keeps waking up in random places with no memory of how she got there.

Meanwhile the X-men try and track down a mutant who seems to be methodically taking out humans who express anti-mutant sentiments.

[raikkxz]

ᯓ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ⑅ RULES .ᐟ.ᐟ

★ — requests﹕closed

★ — taglist﹕open

★ pinned post || ☆ taglist || ★ rules || ☆ main masterlist

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ how to request !! ꒱

if you'd like me to write for your favourite driver, requ est their name, trope, concept and anything else! ex : can i request a charles leclerc x reader, best friends to lovers, assistant!reader

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ what/who i write !! ꒱

⭑ f1 ⭑ hp ⭑ blurbs ⭑ headcanons ⭑ fluff ⭑ smut ⭑ boy x girl ⭑ age gap (not super big tho.) ⭑ social media au ⭑ person x female reader ⭑ kinks (not super kinky.)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ what i don't write !! ꒱

⭑ angst (maybe if im in an angsty mood, but otherwise, no) ⭑ anything that has any hate towards to ANY drivers. ⭑ driver/person x oc (i only write person x reader - unless it's a ship) ⭑ eating disorders ⭑ self-harm ⭑ mental/physical illness ⭑ incest

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ drivers i write for !! ꒱

⭑ charles leclerc 16 ⭑ carlos sainz 55 ⭑ lando norris 4 ⭑ oscar piastri 81 ⭑ max verstappen 33/1 ⭑ daniel riccardo 3 ⭑ lewis hamilton 44 ⭑ logan sargeant 2 ⭑ kimi raikkonen 7 ⭑ jenson button 22 ⭑ sebastian vettel 5 ⭑ fernando alonso 14 (these are the drivers i feel comfy with writing, i might do other drivers tho)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ other f1 related people i write for !! ꒱

⭑ toto wolff

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ pjo characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ luke castellan ⭑ percy jackson ⭑ annabeth chase ⭑ leo valdez ⭑ jason grace ⭑ clarrise la rue ⭑ will solace ⭑ frank zhang ⭑ hazel levesque ⭑ magnus chase ⭑ piper mclean (probably more but those are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ hp characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ mattheo riddle ⭑ theodore nott ⭑ lorenzo berkshire ⭑ tom riddle ⭑ harry potter ⭑ hermione granger ⭑ cedric diggory ⭑ luna lovegood ⭑ ginny weasley (probably more too but these also are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ mcu characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ peter parker (spiderman) | any film/actor ⭑ stephen strange (doctor strange) ⭑ tony stark (iron man) ⭑ steve rogers (captain america) ⭑ thor odinson ⭑ natasha romanoff (black widow) ⭑ wanda maximoff (the scarlet witch) ⭑ bucky barnes ⭑ loki ⭑ gamora ⭑ peter quill (star lord) ⭑ miles morales (more but are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ x-men characters i write for !! ꒱

⭑ alex summers (havok) ⭑ scott summers (cyclops) ⭑ jean grey (dark phoenix) ⭑ james/logan howlett (wolverine) ⭑ charles xavier (professor x) | before x-men: apocalypse ⭑ erik lehnsherr (magneto) ⭑ raven (mystique) (more but are js my main ones)

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ ships i write for !! ꒱

⭑ brocedes

˚ ₊ · ͟͟͞͞➳ — ꒰ multiple x reader i write for !! ꒱

⭑ tbc

even if my requests are closed, you can request for a second part and I might consider it. otherwise, requests are closed. if you have any questions, don't be shy to ask me! <3

if you break these rules, request for things i clearly stated that i wasn't comfortable with writing, "just write this, it's not that hard," hate towards any drivers, then you can leave.

please be patient when requesting. remember, I only write for fun, so it's not like a job. Which means that I won't be able to write every minute of every day.

please be specific when requesting. it'll help me get a better visual/thought of what you want me to write.

please understand that I can't write every single request. i'll lyk if i can't write this request or if i don't feel comfy with writing it.

@RAIKKXZ

do not repost/copy any of my works on apps or websites.

all rights and credits go to the original owner of any images from my blog. most images are either from pinterest, discord, or made by ME.

this may be updated often in case of any mistakes or forgotten info.

[sarcastic-salem]

X-23: Innocence Lost & Target X Are The Books That Will Make You Hate Steve Rogers

~~~~~~~~~~

X-23: Innocence Lost is a 2005 graphic novel published by Marvel, following the popularity of the X-Men: Evolution cartoon series which was based off a miniseries of the same name. The show featured the X-Men attending public high school as teenagers while living at the Xavier Institute, which for all intents and purposes served as a group home in the show. The show also served as the debut for the fan favorite character Laura Kinney — AKA X-23.

Following her debut in the Evolution cartoon series, Laura became so in demand that Marvel decided to officially introduce her into the Marvelverse with Innocence Lost. And lemme just say innocence was indeed lost.

The book focuses heavily on Sarah Kinney, whose a scientist and Laura’s mother for all intents and purposes. Sarah was originally hired by the Weapons Plus program — the same government program that produced Weapon X (Wolverine) — to create a clone of Logan Howlett. But when Sarah failed to create a male clone and instead produced a female clone — this is next part is a wee bit fucked up — she is forced to carry Laura to term herself as punishment.

I bet you’re starting to wonder how Steve Rogers comes to play into all of this.

Welp, following years of child abuse — I mean, training — and being forced against her will to carry out multiple assassinations by the Weapons Plus program, Laura eventually escapes the facility she was raised in following her mother’s death. Grief-stricken and rife with PTSD, Laura decides to hunt down Logan at the Xavier Institute in Target X, which is the direct sequel of Innocence Lost. It all leads up to what, I think, is a very touching murder-suicide attempt.

Luckily, Logan is saved from the fourteen-year-old girl by none other than….

Steve Rogers

And if you wanna see the irony and hypocrisy that ensues, I highly recommend doing a compare and contrast of these two books alongside of Ed Brubaker’s Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Or, ya know, watch the movie. That might get the message across a lot clearer.

Happy Reading❤️

[steviebbboi]

If You Could, You Would (I could, and I Would) [chapter 01]

Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x OFC (Emmy)

Summary:

Amelia Arson (Emmy) is among the many gifted and talented professors at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. She is intelligent and kind, but also wise and jaded from her own troubled past. As an Elemental, her presence is welcome and swift when acclimating into the X-Men. A fortified team member with mentors like Jean Grey and Storm by her side to continue guiding her in developing her powers. But, what happens when the team goes on a mission only to bring back a certain leather-wearing jacket man with characteristics of a wolf and a timid, glove wearing, doe-eyed girl back to the mansion? Whirlwind ensues.

Notes:

DISCLAIMER NOTE: I don't give permission for anyone to post this work on any other platform. This only exists on Ao3 AND now Tumblr (5/29/24), so pls don't copy/paste. Also, I don't own any of the Marvel universe (I wish). All of my works are also unbeta'd so please be kind, and apologies for any edit mishaps.

Chap. 01. She Noticed That He Was There

Quiet was the only word that came to mind. Emmy let out a sigh of contentment and looked outside the mansion kitchen's window basking in the quietness of the room. Blankly staring into the night sky, she wondered how her teammates were doing. Ororo and Scott left on a mission a few hours ago in pursuit of Sabretooth-- the professor detecting the wilding mutant around the area a few miles away.

Since Emmy's time at the school, she has come to learn that Xavier's relationship with Magneto definitely comes with its own complications. Although the men were at odds, maybe even close to being considered valued enemies, Xavier always seemed to gravitate towards peace around Eric. Emmy didn't know too much history about Xavier's past- but she knew enough to understand that this is a battle that has been fought from many years ago. 

Emmy turned away from gazing at the abnormally bright stars in the sky to look back at her steaming mug filled with Earl Grey tea. Aimlessly, she stirred the tea with her pointer finger slowly to mix the liquid, mimicking the job of a spoon. As her mind wandered off again, she remembered a time when she was only 10 years old playing with her dolls in the bathtub, and unknowingly making her mermaid-themed Barbie swim waves on the "ocean" due to Emmy's manipulation of the element. Much to her parents' horror, all she remembered at the time was that she was having fun. She scoffed and shook her head at the memory, "Well, at the time, you didn’t know that you were at risk of drowning yourself and everyone else in the apartment- much less, your Barbie.”

That was the first time that she ever considered herself to be dangerous. Emmy never considered her powers to have been so powerful…until that particular night. She felt her face form into a frown as the details of that haunting night were suddenly spurred in her thoughts. She was shocked out of her reverie by a loud noise. Emmy jumped up, her tea no longer spinning, and was forgotten and cold. 

“They’re back!” Emmy thought as she heard the loud noises growing into quiet chatter. She was walking towards the voices until she was stopped by Jubilee who was groaning with a blanket over her shoulders. 

“Professor? Is everything okay?” Jubilee asked sleepily.

Emmy paused and replied, “Everything is okay, Jubes. Go back to bed now, okay?” She put a hand on her blanket-covered shoulder and soothingly rubbed Jubilee’s arm to coax her back into her room. 

Jubilee muttered a quiet okay and proceeded to go back to her room, shutting the door. Emmy sighed and resumed her path towards the elevator that would take her to the bottom floor where the medical labs resided. No longer hearing the voices of the team, she knew that they would be meeting to debrief down there. Reaching the bottom floor, Emmy walked out of the cylindrical-shaped elevator and stepped out to hear ‘Ro and Scott talking with the Professor.

Turning the corner to the medical lab, she saw Jean giving a concerned stare to a body that was laying on the medical bed in front of her. Then, she took note of the ‘Ro’s and Scott’s disheveled appearance while standing next to the Professor, and next to this equally disheveled young girl who looked like she was going to cry at any second.

Emmy quietly gasped with furrowed brows, “What the hell happened out there?” Their voices quieted and all heads turned her way.

“Everything is fine, Em. How were the kids tonight?” finally spoke Ororo. 

“The kids were fine, being kids – don’t change the subject. What happened?” Emmy asked with gritted teeth. Out of all the missions that they have been on this past year, this was by far the most that she has seen Ororo sport a heavy look on her face. Even Scott had this permanent furrow in his brow that doesn’t seem to be going away anytime soon. 

“We ran into a complication.” Scott subtly gestured to the young girl standing to his right. Emmy took a closer look at the girl and noticed that the girl had this dazed and wild look in her eye as her gaze darted around the room. 

“How complicated are we talking?” Emmy responded hesitantly. There was a long pause and before anyone could answer her question, the Professor turned his head towards Emmy. “Amelia, this is Rogue. She is going to be staying with us tonight. Would you mind getting her settled into her room?” 

Emmy hesitated, “But Professor–”. The class four mutant merely smiled, his eyes crinkled with age and something omniscient, before cutting her off, “We will debrief fully tomorrow morning after everyone has gotten some much needed rest.” Emmy pursed her lips in frustration, but ultimately understood where he was coming from. Charles Xavier’s heart for his students will always be the most palpable perception received by his pupils. Even for pupils who didn’t know that they were his pupils yet, like Rogue. 

Emmy stepped closer to Rogue and motioned for her to follow, “Hey, I’m Professor Amelia - but you can call me Emmy for now, if you’d like. Why don’t you come with me and I can help you get settled into your room?” Rogue looked at her with busy eyes but tired eyes, complacent. Although, it was evident from Rogue’s gaze that she also didn’t want to leave the man on the table.

The room was quiet after Emmy’s invitation and sensing Rogue’s hesitation, she responded, “you could come back down here whenever you would like to check in on him. For now, it's best to let Dr. Grey and the Professor check him out, okay?” 

Rogue, with a more determined and secure look on her face, nodded her head with confidence and followed Emmy’s gestured arms that were motioning back towards the elevator. As they were walking, Rogue turned back to the team and let out a soft, but gracious thanks.

Everyone, including Emmy, softly smiled upon hearing the words. It was the girl’s lucky day after all, being saved by the X-Men. Albeit, she existed as an anomaly for now. 

Getting off the elevator, Emmy guided Rogue to her room that also shared the same hallway as her too. Emmy showed Rogue the bathroom, the linen closet that held utilities, and also showed her her own room at the end of the hall.

“If you ever need anything, feel free to always knock on my door, no matter what time it is, okay?” Emmy mentioned to her. Rogue nodded softly and went into her room for the night.

Reflexively, Emmy went to close the door, as did Rogue. Rogue quickly snapped back, startling Emmy, as if she was immediately burned by the touch of the door knob.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go back downstairs to get checked out? No one will hurt you here, I promise.” Emmy questioned cautiously, eager to let this girl know that she means no harm. 

Rogue’s eyes darted back and forth again nervously, “It’s not you.” she whispered.

Emmy paused but nodded before slowly reaching out for the door handle once more. Rogue quietly nodded and whispered another thanks before sitting on the done up bed located in the center of the room. 

Emmy finally shut the door quietly, and sighed once out of view. “Who is this girl? And what about that man on the table?” she thought. 

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