#logan if you can hear me please save us | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cryptictongues · 2 months ago

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Tiny Dots on an Endless Timeline

pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Mutant!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 28.5k summary: "It’s been a few years since you'd passed, dying in one of the earlier Sentinel raids. He watched you die. He watched you beg and plead for him to get everyone to safety as you used your gift to keep the Sentinel’s away. It’s his last memory of you; a memory that makes these missions harder. But the idea that stopping all of this from happening could save you, could give him more time with you, gave him something he too hasn’t felt in a long time: hope."

warnings: slow burn, angst/smut/fluff, pining, grief, death, panic attacks, intimacy, unprotected vaginal sex, nipple play, grinding, making out, overstimulation, aftercare

Author’s Note: In this fic, there is some dialogue from the movie used and lyrics from Roberta Flack's "The First Time I Ever Saw Your Face". I do not own the rights to either and they are only used to help the plot of the story.

Please read my pinned post before following me! Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked as this blog’s content is NSFW.

[AO3 link]

Abandoned Chinese Temple; Shanxi Province, China; Year 2023

Logan didn’t have any high expectations when it came to missions. He has learned time and time again that every mission in this war creates loss. It seemed like every time they had a chance, that chance was quickly vanquished. He would convince himself for the longest time things will get better. They have to get better. All wars end eventually. It’s just a matter of when and what the casualties will be. But right now, the end is nowhere in sight.

They were safe for now, hiding out in an old temple that has aged and weathered away with the times. Being back with everyone, seeing who is left of them, sits heavy in Logan’s chest. Having people he cared about ripped away like they were nothing, no proper burial or goodbye, aged him like nothing else. While physically he was still in his proper form and shape, mentally he was struggling.

Charles is giving a history lesson on the Sentinels, giving information many of the younger mutants were not fully aware of. Logan is aware of what this is leading up to, a plan Charles and Erik conjured up as a last resort. It’s smart, but even when it seems too good to be true, he must remind himself the same thing: do not have any expectations.

Logan notices Charles is quiet, and everyone’s attention is on Kitty. She had been talking and even though Logan had zoned out for a minute, the look on her face says it all; it’s impossible.

“You have the most powerful brain in the world professor, but the mind can only stretch so far before it snaps. It would rip you apart. I’m sorry.”

The gears in Logan’s head were turning. He doesn’t quite know the limits of his mutation, especially in regard to traveling back in time. However, he has taken multiple bullets and slashes. He has been through some of the worst experimentation imaginable and his body always recovered. If his body could bear all of that, what’s to say he wouldn’t survive going back a few decades?

It’s not long before everyone agrees that Logan going back was the only solution left. Charles and Erik walk him through what needs to be done the minute he wakes up as his younger self. Patience is what Charles keeps telling him, but of course he knows that will be challenging alone. Not to mention all the bullshit they were doing in the early 70s. Bastards.

“I do apologize, Logan. But I have the utmost faith that you can do this.” Charles chuckles, obviously hearing what Logan called them.

“There is nothing left to lose.” Logan sighs.

“But there is plenty to gain.” Charles smiles, the hope on his features stronger than it had been in a long time. “To bring our loved ones home. To bring her home.”

Logan sucks in a breath, holding it for a second before releasing slowly. His hand goes to his neckline, pulling the chain from his suit to look at it and there it was. The engagement ring: a symbol of good things to come that will no longer come to fruition. A lifetime that was stripped away from him, a life with you no more.

It’s been a few years since you’d passed, dying in one of the earlier Sentinel raids. He watched you die. He watched you beg and plead for him to get everyone to safety as you used your gift to keep the Sentinel’s away. It’s his last memory of you; a memory that makes these missions harder. But the idea that stopping all of this from happening could save you, could give him more time with you, gave him something he too hasn’t felt in a long time: hope.

“It’s good to see that spark in your eyes again, Logan.” Charles says.

Logan huffs under his breath. “I guess my emotions are starting to show on my sleeve, huh?”

Charles laughs, before moving on into the other room. “You’ve grown a lot since I’ve first met you, Logan. And I have her to thank.”

Logan looks down with a smile, reminiscing only a little bit. You really were something else.

It isn’t long before he is lying down on the stone table with Kitty explaining everything to him. It all makes sense, but he can’t shake the fact he will be the only one to remember this war: the trauma, the anger, the dread, the grief. Even when this war will have no bearing on the new world he hopes to come back to, he will still live with that pain.

“Alright, Logan. Calm your mind and think peaceful thoughts. This may sting a little.” He can hear the uneasiness in Kitty’s voice, but he is ready. There is no pain he can’t endure.

He closes his eyes and thinks about the happier times. Some of his fondest memories are of him simply waking up to watch the sun rays glide across your body in the morning. How you would curl more into his chest and mumble words with no connection whatsoever. How you would wake up, kiss his chest and keep going until your lips met his. He would always ask you to use your gift in those moments, wanting to hold you just a little longer before the day started. You were his little piece of heaven.

Even as he feels Kitty’s hands beside his head, he thinks maybe before he wakes up, he’ll dream as his mind travels. He’ll dream of better times and that alone would hold him over during the impending pain. Because what he wouldn’t give to have you in his arms again. That’s all he wants.

His hand grips onto the ring attached to his dog tags, holding it close as he prepares to enter a different time full of the unpredictable.

This is for you, baby. I will save you this time.

And with that thought, the hot pain scorches his temples and sets fire to his mind and then he is gone.

The Algonquin Hotel; New York City, NY; Year 1973

Music. Soft, calming music enters his conscience. It greets his mind, carefully shaking him awake. Then there is the sunlight. It is warm against his skin and he can feel it greeting him, telling him it is time to start the day. It all felt too familiar, and he thought he was dreaming. He felt something draped over his neck. It wasn’t heavy but there was a weight to it. He lifted his hand to touch and the moment he felt another hand, he smiled. Yes, I am definitely dreaming because here she is. He brought your dainty hand to his lips, kissing it gently as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

But the moment is short lived as his other senses kick in. He took one inhale and knew immediately something wasn’t right. He turns to lay flat on his back, and he can’t help but curse under his breath. He feels like he is waking up to the pre-walk of shame as he looks at the woman beside him. He recognizes her, someone he had bodyguarded for a period of time and occasionally let her warm his bed. Well, he let her do a lot more than that.

If only he had the foresight to have kept it in his pants.

He sets her arm to her side and attempts to get out of the bed. He feels the water hold him back, and he groans deeply. Whoever invented water beds can fuck off.

He stands to his feet, taking in his surroundings. He recognizes the room and knows he’s in the Algonquin. The room has its signature set up, with its warm tones on the walls and floor, the plant hanging from the ceiling. He’s been in this room before, or at least another copy of it. He sees the mirror between the two windows, and he walks up to see his reflection.

Holy shit…

He looks the same, but the differences are prominent. The gray that was once at the corners of his hair and beard were gone. His head of hair looked fuller and was back to his original brown state. His body didn’t look much different, but he felt rejuvenated. It looked like his body hadn’t endured much. He looks down further and can’t help but smirk. Heh, still got it.

His sights go to the window, and he peeks through the blinds, only to once again let expletives fall quietly from his lips. He knew it had worked, but seeing Times Square without its vast array of screens made him take a step back. There is a strange emotion forming in his chest, and while he can’t describe it, he can tell it’s good.

“Holy shit,” he mutters in awe, taking in all the minute details. “It worked.”

He feels relief, as well as curiosity as he scans the city in its older form. Charles had said he was a very different man during this time. He wonders what he will be walking into, and how he will prepare for the moment where Charles will think he’s full of shit.

But his mind drifts as he looks down onto the street, street musicians on the side playing their instruments for spare change. He remembers you telling him that was something you did for a while with empty storage containers and food bins as makeshift drums… right here in the city.

His heart aches at the thought that you are out there somewhere, living your life day by day like nothing was wrong. You had told him you had a bit of a rebellious streak in the 70s, especially when you were playing music with a bunch of punks most nights and living out of a van. It reminded him a lot of himself, how he would have some kind of gig to make money and then go home to his trashy, beat up trailer.

He always told you how he would have killed to see you in those times, and now that he’s here he’s tempted. Maybe he could leave right now and take a quick peak around the city. He wouldn’t even interact with you. He just wants to see you breathing and alive. He wants to see you living your life to the fullest, even if it pains him to not interfere.

He scoffs at himself, shaking his head and releasing the blind shade. No. He came here to do one thing, and that was to find Charles and Erik. He knows that if he plays his cards right, everything will turn out okay. The mutant population will continue to thrive, his friends will be alive, and you will continue to be by his side. Logan knows good things come to those that wait, so he will wait for you. Even if it fucking sucks to do so.

He goes to put on his pants, deep blue jeans with a big belt buckle, something he wore often. Some things really don’t change, do they?

He finishes covering himself, and the second his belt is strapped into place, he hears the door open. He turns to see three men standing by, talking loudly at the woman to get dressed as they stare him down.

Fuck.

Alleyway off of East 17th Street; New York, NY

“Fuck!”

You shoot up from your van seat, the thumping on the door startling you awake. You groan, holding your head as you blink slowly. You turn and see a cop at your window, signaling for you to roll the glass down. You grab the lever, rotating it slowly before squinting up at the man.

“Ma’am, you cannot park nor sleep here,” he emphasizes, snark laced in his voice. “You need to get moving.”

You see him whip out his ticket book, a quick scribble before he rips it and hands it over to you.

“What? No warning?” You say defensively. “You gotta understand I was drunk last night. No points for not drinking and driving?”

He looks you up and down, grimacing at your attire. “For cretins like you, absolutely not. Unless you want to dispute the ticket in court, pay the fine.” He turns away, no consideration or anything.

You scoff as he turns to leave, and you roll your window up quickly. You watch as he walks away, and you bring your hand up, curling your fingers in. Everything slows down before freezing all together, only to then reverse in swift motion. You watch the cop rework his steps as time turns back, and you keep going until you see him drive back from which he came. You continue to let time go, so you’d have enough of it to get the hell out of the alley, before releasing your fingers. Time slows again and then it goes on like nothing has changed. You glance at the ticket, noting he had filled the ticket out prior before to scaring the daylights out of you.

“Fucking pig,” you jeer, crumbling the ticket up and throwing it to the back.

You start up the van, pulling out of the alley slowly before turning onto the busy street. There was high traffic per usual, people pushing to get to their jobs. You glance at the clock to see it is nine in the morning, and hum at the amount of time you have before your gig tonight. You are tempted to find another place to park, to sleep off the dreadful hangover plaguing your head. You knew taking all those shots the night prior was a terrible idea, but the drinks kept coming after such a good show. It helps too that your mutation keeps everything in check, a fact that makes you grin.

Being able to control time, rhythm and pace come naturally to you. You are always able to keep a perfect tempo and can change it up at your will. While punk music has never been about perfection, it always helps that you can pull everyone back in if things get too out of hand. People tell you you’re a prodigy, but if only they knew. Your bandmates don’t even know, and while you know they would embrace you, you felt it was always better to keep things hidden. Especially since you tend to use your power to save your ass far too often.

You decide to drive to central park, thinking some fresh air would stop your head from pulsing. You make a turn onto 44th Street, wanting to get to the main road for a straight shot to your new location. However, as you drive down, you start to feel strange. Your head was pulsing more, like your mind was trying to break down a door to give you a warning. It becomes borderline painful, and you can’t help but pull over onto the side of the street.

You put your hazards on, opening the door before getting to the sidewalk. You squat down, dry heaving a little as you work to calm your mind down. You shut your eyes, rubbing your temples to ease the ache. And then as quickly as it came, it stopped. Your eyes open, looking around to see you are in front of the Algonquin.

What the fuck?

“I must have really outdone myself last night,” you mutter under your breath, standing up fully to get back into the van.

You get in and go to turn the hazards off, but you stop when you notice a man walking out of the hotel. You watch as he walks with purpose, getting into what looks to be a green 1970 Buick LaSabre. Your brain glitches, trying to process something that doesn’t exist. You don’t know him. You’ve never seen the man before. So why is your brain acting like you do?

You watch him drive off with a screech, and you watch until he is no longer in sight. You stare off into the distance for a minute, thinking what the hell just happened. It was new, and it isn’t like anything you’ve ever experienced. The aftermath settles in your chest with a weird sense of longing and it makes you even more confused.

I definitely drank too much last night.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY

Logan knew the peaceful thoughts wouldn’t come easy, but god damn the entire morning has been far from peaceful.

The altercation at the hotel ended with the three men on the floor, dead or alive he wasn’t sure. He could’ve handled it better, but the shock from seeing his old claws and the excruciating pain from the bullets sent him into a frenzy. He had truly forgotten how painful bullets felt when his bones weren’t covered in metal.

Driving from New York City to Westchester didn’t help his mood. He’d rather suffer a thousand stab wounds than drive in traffic and deal with dumbass drivers. The only upside was he had time to think about his approach with Charles, and how he was going to convince him that he was serious. He had a pretty good idea of what he needed to say and was feeling confident. As long as there were no obstacles, he could get this done.

But that all shattered when Hank opened the damn door. He hadn’t even considered his presence, but Hank was a pretty understanding guy. He’d understand, right?

Boy was he wrong.

He definitely underestimated how strong Hank was, especially after seeing him as a younger man. Their tussle had landed him onto the marble table in the center of the foyer and with Hank roaring at him from the chandelier. It was no surprise that the one person who still lives here came out: Charles.

Logan’s first thought after looking at Charles was how much of a bum he appeared to be. He wasn’t one to judge, but to see his mentor in such rough shape was perplexing. It looked like the optimism he always held so close was far gone, which was made clear when he laughed in Logan’s face.

Charles did say he would need to be patient with him, but fuck he was a pain in the ass. Logan understood, as he wasn’t much better when he arrived at the mansion, but if he was this much of an ass as Charles is now, God help him.

At this moment, he was working answers out of Hank, trying to piece something together that would convince Charles that what he was saying is true. Then he heard footsteps from the stairs.

“I’ll help you. I’ll help you get to Raven.”

Which now leaves them all in Charles’s old office, discussing plans on how to retrieve Erik without getting caught. Erik had explained where he was before Logan got here, but now knowing what he did to get there makes this more complicated. Not that it already wasn’t, but it is for certain that his cell will be guarded to hell and back.

Once again, fucking bastards.

“What resources do we have?” Logan asks, hoping that Charles or Hank know someone with an ability to get them in and out.

“Well…” Charles draws out. “I may know one person who could do it, but she will need some convincing. If we can find her, that is.” Charles chuckles, his hand rubbing his face in disbelief.

Hank’s eyes go wide. “You don’t mean…”

“She’s the only person that could pull it off, with her mutation and all.” Charles goes to stand, taking a swig of his whiskey in the process.

“Who is she?” Logan asks curiously, the odd mix of dismay and confidence in their tones intriguing. However, the second he hears your name, he freezes.

“What?” Logan says with uneasiness, something the other two don’t pick up on.

“She was a recruit back when Erik and I were forming a team to fight against Sebastian Shaw.” Charles explains.

“She can control time,” Hank jumps in enthusiastically. “Move it forward, backward, stop it all at once.”

“She left shortly after Cuba,” Charles takes a drink with that. “She said she didn’t want to be at odds with Erik and I.”

“Is there anyone else we could use?” Logan interjects quickly. The idea of seeing you is oh so tempting, but there is a fear that any sort of interaction with you will tear you away from him. To see you is one thing. To interact with you is another.

“There are mutants that can stop time telepathically, but she can do it all, which is why she is our best bet.” Charles adds, waving his hand like he is explaining something complicated. “The only problem is I have no idea where she went. I haven’t seen or heard from her in over a decade.”

Logan can’t help but scrunch his face, biting the inside of his cheek in contemplation. He knows he can’t let his selfishness get in the way of the lives at stake. If you really are the best bet to get Erik out, then so be it.

“Fine, but we just use her to get Erik. After that, she is done.”

“Well, we have to find her first.” Charles shrugs. “I can’t use my powers, so we will need to find an alternative.”

“We have a phone book.” Hank suggests, already walking to the stack of books behind the sofa.

“That is not going to help, but she was in a band around this time right here in New York.” Logan says, looking at Hank as he grabs the phone book. “She was playing gigs most nights in 1973.”

Charles and Hank look at one another, seemingly perplexed by this new knowledge. “How do you know this?” Charles speaks for them both.

“Let’s just say she becomes a protege of sorts for you in the future.” Logan leaves out the rest. This wasn’t the time to get into the details of his relationship. “I know the band name. We can call popular hole in the wall venues around the city to see if her band is playing tonight.”

“I’ll start looking through and making calls,” Hank offers, and sits down at Charles’ desk.

“Let us know if you find anything. The minute we know something, we leave.” Logan says.

Logan leaves before a response is given and goes outside. The sun is bright, surprisingly not too cold for this time of year. He leans against the old brick, taking out a cigar he magically had in his pocket along with a lighter he had snatched off the desk. He cuts the end with his claw, and lets it sink back in as he puts it to his lips. He goes to light, his hand a little shaky but he eventually gets a good burn going, the taste entering pleasantly into his mouth and lungs.

He puffs out some smoke, sighing at how the events of today have turned. He had made the decision not to see you, and now he is going to have to. It’s a double-edged sword; he gets to see the beautiful woman he fell in love with, while also taking the risk of altering his and your future together. So many what if’s: what if something bad happens to you? What if you all get caught and you get sent to prison? What if you somehow realize you don’t like him in this timeline?

What if you die and he can’t save you again?

That thought alone makes him choke a little, lost in so much thought the smoke overwhelmed him. No, he can’t think like that. There is too much on the line for his emotions to play games. Besides, maybe in the end, regardless of if he ends up miserable, you’d wake up in the future safe.

He just wants everyone he loves safe.

Max’s Kansas City Nightclub; Manhattan, NY.

Logan has been to many different nightclubs. Having been a bodyguard for hire, these types of places were nothing out of the ordinary. There were plenty of young women he was hired to watch, ones that wanted to rebel a little, that would come to these clubs to have a taste of freedom. They all had the same shit: drugs, alcohol, sex, and bad decisions.

He was starting to feel the latter.

It isn’t that he disagrees with Charles. Your mutation is powerful and would create easy access to Erik’s hold cell. You are the obvious choice. However, he can’t stop debating with himself on if dragging you into this will change the future; one where you and him are never to be. The thought alone makes his stomach turn.

Along with that, just seeing you in the flesh is enough to send him into disarray. Logan is far from a nervous man, but it has felt like an eternity since he’s seen your face. One look at you and he may not be able to hold it together.

Him and Charles are sitting at the bar, nursing their shitty whisky. It burns the same, and by this time Logan is finishing his fourth glass, waving down the bartender for a fifth.

“Listen,” he hears Charles yell over the loud crowd. “I know you can hold your liquor but you should probably slow down.”

“Trust me, bub,” Logan shoots the fifth round down his throat, swallowing quickly. “You’ll want me as loose as possible for this.”

“What is with you? Is this about her?” Charles nods to the empty stage. “You acted very strange when discussing her today. Were you two close?”

Logan looks down into his glass, his mouth opening and shutting not knowing what to say. It doesn’t matter, however, because before he can make a decision, drums are starting to beat down heavily.

“1, 2, 3, 4!”

Drums start bumping, along with guitar and bass chords. The crowd starts running to the back where the stage is located, jumping and vibrating to the music. Logan looks to the stage, and lo and behold there you are on the drum kit.

Even when you were no longer playing with a group, you played a lot at the mansion. You often taught music classes for students who just wanted to have some fun. It was also your way of releasing some steam. Charles had to soundproof the music room so your constant drum smashing wouldn’t cause a disturbance.

But here you are, keeping perfect tempo as you keep up your rhythm. Seeing you in your element was so much more than he thought. You were an animal on those drums, totally submerged in your performance. You were smiling, interacting with other band members during each song. Whether it be adding vocals, doing theatrics with your drumsticks, or silly banter, you looked like you were meant to be up there.

“She’s really good!” Charles yells over the music, and Logan can only nod. He is immersed in you, his nerves gone as he takes you in. He missed you so badly that seeing you again has given him some grace. He needs to be careful, but right now it doesn’t matter. He just wants to enjoy seeing you happy and alive.

The set goes on for another twenty minutes, the songs short and quick. The crowd was getting more rowdy as the set continued. They were shouting lyrics back, heads rocking and popping as they jumped around. He sees you looking out into the crowd, only for your eyes to meet his own and then to his right. Your eyes went wide, and he turned to see Charles lifting his hand with a small wave.

“Well, the cats out of the bag.” Charles mutters, not leaving eye contact with you.

Logan sees the shock in your features, and can sense you picking up the tempo slightly. Your bandmates didn’t seem to mind, however, as they picked it up as well and the crowd seemed to love it. The last cord plays, and the crowd cheers.

“We’d like to thank y’all for coming. Goodnight!” The vocalist said before the band walked off the small stage. You, on the other hand, didn’t follow.

He watched you make your way through the throngs of people. The look on your face is unclear, but the moment you are in front of him, it’s like it’s just you two.

He fully takes you in. You looked about the same, maybe a little younger. You were wearing jeans with holes at the knees, beat up converse, and a white v-neck that revealed your collarbones quite nicely. A black leather jacket, that has seen better days, pulls it all together. There was a sheen of sweat at your temples, creating a shine in the baby hairs. Logan only had two thoughts in his head: that he desperately wishes he could pull you into his embrace and that you looked so sexy like this.

So incredibly sexy.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” You smirked, hands on your hips.

“I must say this is a pleasant surprise.” Charles laughs, standing up from his seat. “It’s so good to see you, darling.”

“It’s good to see you too, and walking for that matter!” You pulled him in, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek. It makes Logan shift slightly, a little jealousy lingering even though there is nothing he could do about it.

You let Charles go, and you look at Logan, quirking your head as your eyes scan him up and down. He keeps his eyes on you, not budging.

“So Charles, who’s your friend?”

“Ah, yes, well this here is-“

“Logan.”

Logan’s eyes go wide when your hands shoot to your head, gasping as you grip your head. He reaches out, wanting to do something to ease whatever is going on, but as soon as it starts, it stops.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I must have really overdone it with the drinking last night.” You mumbled.

Logan smirks. “A real party animal, huh?”

“More like don’t know when to quit,” you sigh. “So, how did you know that I was playing here tonight? Or better yet, how did you even know I was doing this? Keep tabs on me up there?”

“Actually, Logan mentioned it. He-” Charles starts, but Logan is quick to hit his back, making him double over from the impact.

“What he means is it is a long story, and we should go somewhere else to discuss it.” Logan says with urgency, hoping his tone takes your attention away from how he’s acting.

“Why not talk about it here?” You shrug, going to the bar to order a drink. “The night is still young.”

“This conversation needs to be for your ears only. It is highly confidential.” Charles interjects.

“Hmm,” you don’t look at him, finally getting the bartender’s attention. “Trying to drag me back into some bullshit, Charles?”

“Bullshit that could save everyone’s life, sweetheart.” Logan says. He isn’t used to your slight indifference, but it is something he is going to have to get used to. You are a different person during this time, after all.

You turn back to them, sighing before you lift your hand up, middle finger and thumb pressed together before snapping. Everything stops instantly. Drinks that are being poured freeze. People talking with others go still with mouths open trying to get the next word. The lights stop flickering, some looking to be out while others keep the light.

Time goes still. Except for the three of them.

His eyes go to look at you, where you are wearing a smug look.

“My ears only, right?” You say, lifting your drink like you are cheering for something. “So start talking.”

The Pentagon; Arlington, VA

The Pentagon was incredibly crowded, which was to be expected. Tours were taking place. People were rushing to get to their posts. Security was at each corner of the building. There is a lot of commotion, yet you knew this would be a piece of cake. And yet, you couldn’t believe you had agreed to do this.

When Logan had explained he was from the future, a future where everyone will eventually become slaughtered, it took you aback. It was hard to think about. You knew the U.S. Government has an aversion to mutants, but to create a weapon to wipe them clean with Raven’s DNA? You shouldn’t be surprised, not with everything currently going on, but you are.

The plane ride was fairly quiet. Hank and Charles were in the cockpit, leaving Logan and you in the main lounging area. You had noticed Logan looking at you quite a bit throughout the quick ride. It was like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t. You could’ve sworn you saw something akin to pining in his eyes, but you brushed it off. You didn’t know if it was his way of figuring you out, or if there was something else.

You wondered if you and him are connected somehow. With the headaches coinciding around Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if your mutation is doing something new, something it couldn’t do before because you have never met a time traveler. Not until now.

Maybe you will get answers later. Right now, you have a job to do.

You are standing in the middle of the Pentagon’s main sector, mentally preparing yourself for this. You would have to hold time for thirty minutes, enough time for Charles and Hank to reach and retrieve Erik from his cell. This only gives them fifteen in and fifteen out.

“Are you sure about this?” You hear Logan say from beside you. “We can find another way if it is going to be too much.”

He sounds so sincere, and it oddly does something for you. Here is a man you don’t know much about caring about your wellbeing. For someone of his apparent nature, it is endearing.

“I’ll be fine, but I appreciate you caring enough to ask.” You smile at him, and the smile he gives back makes your stomach flutter. Just a little bit.

“Alright here goes nothing.” You turn to look at Charles and Hank. “The second everything stops, grab an authorized personnel card off of one of the security guards and go quickly.”

“And you’re sure we are the best people to do this?” Charles mutters, looking torn.

You smirk at him. “Oh, Charles. You may not realize this. but he cares about you. Maybe this is the reunion you need.”

“I doubt it,” he grumbles but nods at you to go on.

You look forward, hands slightly in front of you before snapping your fingers. It isn’t instant like it usually is. It travels, people coming to a stop before everything is completely still and silent. It takes a lot of focus and precision on your part. You’ve never had to freeze an entire building, let alone one that runs so deep.

As told, Charles and Hank make quick work, grabbing a card from a guard right by the door they needed to go through. Once the door shut, it was just you and Logan, who had insisted he stay in case something happens.

You sense his eyes on you again, just as he had on the plane. Minutes pass, and you think maybe he will say something, but no. It’s just radio silence. You could handle it on the plane, but right now? Absolutely not.

You roll your eyes at his behavior. “You psychoanalyzing me or something? I can multitask, you know.”

Logan moves so he is facing you, and he is only two steps away from you. You notice he is much taller than you, maybe by a foot. His attire is oddly fitting for someone from the future. The brown leather, the feather pattern on his shirt, and god the big ass belt buckle with blue jeans that fit his legs so nicely. You had to ask.

“So, if you are from the future, I gotta ask: did you come dressed like that?”

He looks down at what he is wearing, inspecting himself. “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”

He looked so self-conscious. It was cute. “Not at all. Just not something I expected someone from the future to wear.”

“Well, technically I am in my younger self’s body. This is how I dressed in 1973.” He chuckles. “I guess I still dressed like this though, before everything went to shit.”

“So, you an old man now or something?”

He smirks at you. “I’m probably older than your great grandfather, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widen at that statement. “Is that your mutation? Being immortal?”

“Amongst other things,” he holds out his hand, and within a blink of an eye claws are coming out from in between his knuckles. You tilt your head in awe, admiring the bones that are tinted yellow. He then lets them sink back in, the wounds healing instantly.

“Regenerative healing. That’s pretty neat,” you say. “Still must hurt though.”

“Every time,” Logan hums. “But you get used to it.”

“I see,” you murmur, not knowing what to say after that. Luckily, Logan keeps going.

“You must practice a lot for you to stop time in a place like this.”

You can’t help the chuckle that slips your lips. “I wouldn’t call it practice. I just get myself into stupid situations.”

Logan grins, taking a step closer to you. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Well, a few weeks ago we got into a tussle with the police. They decided to start some shit at another club we were playing at. Gave me a black eye even.” You answered, oddly making light of the memory.

“Bet you still looked just as pretty,” Logan joked, but with the way he was looking at you, you’d think he was being serious.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “But then they started making arrests. That’s when I shifted time back. Warned my bandmates before they came in. They were confused about the black eye though.”

This made Logan laugh, and you swear your heart did a double take. Why was this man affecting me like this?

“I like the idea of you getting a little rough. It’s very different.” Logan purrs, and before you can ask what he means, you feel your powers start to weaken.

“Shit,” you curse, hands clenching in front of you.

“What’s wrong?”

You grunt in response, trying to pull yourself together. “How long has it been since they’ve left? Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“It’s been about thirty minutes,” he confirms. “You are certain time has stopped in this entire building?”

“I’m very certain. I wouldn’t be struggling right now if it weren’t.” You say with gritted teeth, getting lightheaded. “Logan, I told them thirty minutes. If I hold on any longer, I’ll pass out.”

Logan is looking around, searching for something before he takes off in a path you can’t see. You are breathing heavily, trying hard to focus but you can feel yourself slipping. It’s like you are on a cliff holding onto loose rocks waiting for them to slip.

“Okay look at me, baby.”

Baby?

You look to see he is holding a key card. He holds your attention, nodding to the door Charles and Hank went through. “We are going to walk over to the door. I’m going to open it with this. When I do, let go.”

“Fuck, what if we get caught?” You whimper, the mental pain starting to get stronger.

“I won’t let that happen again.”

Again?

Before you could contemplate his words, he’s got his arm wrapped around your torso. His left hand holds your leather clad wrist, keeping you steady as two start to walk.

“Small steps, small steps. That’s right,” Logan encourages, keeping pace with you as you walk slowly.

He’s holding you gingerly, like you will break if he lets go. It’s strange but you welcome it. You've never had anyone hold you with such care before. You were rough around the edges. Most people think you can handle anything, but it’s almost as if Logan has done this before; a common feeling you’ve had ever since you laid eyes on him.

He stopped at the door, pulling the keycard from his left pocket and scanning it. The light blinks green and he pushes it, keeping it open with his foot as he looks at you.

“You ready?”

You nod slightly. “Just tell me when.”

“Now!”

You immediately drop your hands, and Logan is shoving you through the threshold. You gasp holding onto your chest as Logan keeps his grip on you so you don’t fall. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down enough to keep going.

“We need to get moving. We will get caught if we stay here.”

Logan nods, letting go of you to look at the map beside the door. You miss his touch already.

“We need to get to this elevator,” he points to the elevator in the south wing. “It’ll take us to the kitchen that leads to the lower cell.”

Without another word, you two are running. You put your hands up again, freezing time again but only in the areas you two are passing. It makes your brain fuzzy, but you push on. Logan looks back at you from time to time to check on you, worry evident on his face.

“I’m fine, keep going!” You press.

Before you two know it, you are both at the elevator. Logan is clicking the button repeatedly like it’ll come faster, and within a few seconds it opens. You both rush in there, and Logan repeats his treatment to the closing button before the doors ultimately close.

You lean against the metal wall, taking a deep breath and praying to whatever God is listening that no one gets on this damn elevator. You don’t know if you have it in you to protect you and Logan if someone gets on.

Luck was on your side, however. The elevator dinged, and when you looked up you saw it was listed as the floor you were getting off on. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, but it gets sucked back into your throat when you hear alarms. The elevator doors open and a multitude of men with chef kitchen attire run in completely drenched.

Before either of you get crushed by the masses, you grab Logan’s hand and yank him out. You hear more commotion coming from down the hall, yelling and crashing. You walk past Logan, jogging towards the noise. You make it to the door, hearing the voices loud and clear, and you bust in to see the insanity.

The kitchen was a wreck. The water is still coming as the alarm blares on. You see Hank trying to pull Charles off of Erik, but he won’t budge. Everything is a mess, and something about it sends you spiraling.

“Oh fuck no!”

You are hurling yourself at these men. You grab Charles’s jacket, and with the help of Hank yank him off of Erik. Hank flies to the floor, and you slam Charles to the wall. He looks so pitiful, and it makes you sick.

“I said thirty fucking minutes,” you seethe. “My power has limits, and this is the reason you all pushed them today? Because you couldn’t help yourself?”

Charles is silent, looking at you with complete guilt. Good, you think. He should feel fucking guilty.

“I could have passed out. You are so lucky I had Logan, or your ass would be going to prison.”

You let go of him, shoving him more into the wall as a warning, and turn to the other two knuckleheads. Hank and Erik are standing, looking at you in shock. They are really about to be in shock, however, because you weren’t done.

“You,” you pointed at Hank. “I know you hate your mutation, but your self-hatred almost fucked us all. I know you aren’t that fucking weak, especially to pull his scrawny ass off of that dumbass.”

“Well, it’s good to see you too-” you hear Erik start. You don’t let him finish.

“And you,” you shout, walking up to him and gripping the white prison uniform at the collars. “I know you are probably very shocked to see all of us. However, and understand this clearly, you do as we say. I am not about to have my future or anyone else’s fucked up because of you. You hear me?”

Erik smirks at you. “Yes, ma’am.” God, you wish you could wipe that look off his face.

You huff, shoving him away from you. “Let’s get out before we get caught.”

“It might be too late for that.” You hear Charles say, and you turn to see five Pentagon security members, plastic guns drawn.

“Charles,” Erik calls out. “Do something, Charles.”

“I can’t,” Charles says under his breath.

“Hands up or we will shoot!” One of the security officers yells, their fingers right on the trigger.

You groan at how worthless everyone is acting, and using your anger, you snap your fingers and immediately clench your fists. The cops freeze in place, and you are panting as your muscles suck up all the oxygen in your body.

“Someone better knock them out before I give out and-“ you are cut off by the sound of a pan connecting to skulls.

Logan was knocking these men out with ease, his strength apparent as the metal clangs. He is moving like a natural, arm swinging precisely to hit each man standing. It was captivating and watching him breathing in and out in his drenched clothes was very hot. You could feel your underwear start to cling to you, and you knew it wasn’t just from the water coming from the sprinklers.

You let go, hands going to your knees as you catch your breath once again. Logan is immediately by your side.

“Let’s get out of here,” Logan commands, and he wraps his arms around your torso to sit you straight up.

“I got you, sweetheart. Just hold onto me,” Logan says in a low tone, like talking any louder would disturb the already broken peace.

Without a word, you grip onto him and you two walk out of the kitchen to the elevator. The others are waiting for you two, keeping the elevator open and soon enough you are all in.

It’s amazing to you that you all made it out. Charles was smart enough to know to go through a back exit, and luckily Erik was able to move the cameras to face a different direction. It was as if none of you were ever there, other than the fact those security officers saw you. You’re hoping Logan hit them hard enough for them to forget.

Charles had parked the rental car close by, shoving yourselves in before going off onto the road. You are in the middle in the backseat, with Logan still holding you close. Erik was to you right, working to put on the jacket and hat Charles had brought to make him less recognizable.

Well, less recognizable to fucking idiots maybe.

“Alright, where to now?” Erik asks, still trying to get the jacket on in the packed backseat.

“We need to get her home.” Logan replies.

“What?!” You shout, feeling complete disbelief. “Why am I going home?!”

“Listen, thank you for your help. But this is dangerous, and you shouldn’t get mixed up in it.” Logan continues, his tone a lot more serious than it has been today.

“I just fucking infiltrated the Pentagon and now you are worried about dragging me into this mess?”

Logan is quiet, and you only get more pissed off. Who the hell does he think he is?

You push his arm off of you, twisting your body so you are looking directly at him. “I don’t know if you noticed, but if I weren’t there today, you all would’ve been fucked. I care about what happens, and y’all need me. So, I apologize but I’m fucking coming.”

Logan’s shoulders drooped, his hand going to rub his face. He breathes out, as if he’s trying to calm himself down, before turning to look out the window.

“Fine.”

“Good, so we are in agreement.” You say, before laying back against the middle cushion.

You let your eyes close as the sounds of the cars and bumps of the road lull you to rest. The chill from the water sets in, and subconsciously you find yourself wishing those strong, warm arms that had held you so much today would wrap around you once more.

The Atlantic Ocean

Fucking bastards.

Logan doesn’t understand how Charles and Erik were ever friends. Imagining them as anything but seemed easier. Maybe it’s the full rage of testosterone in their younger bodies. It would explain the extreme yelling, bickering, anger, grief. He understands the need to release all of that, but he already hates flying. Getting the man who can control metal upset isn’t a great idea in an aircraft.

Things eventually calm down, but what’s left is now a mess of broken glass and ceramic. Charles exits the lounge to go to the cockpit, and at the angle Logan is at he can see Charles with his head in his hands. He feels bad truthfully, seeing him so broken down and beaten up isn’t easy. It reminds him a lot of himself. Looking at Erik, who looks like he hadn’t been in a prison for almost a decade, irritates him slightly. But what irritates him more is that he almost crashed the fucking plane.

“So, you were always an asshole.”

As if on cue, he hears the door to the backroom open and you walk out. You are rubbing your eyes, holding onto the wall as your eyes double take on the view.

“Looks like I missed something eventful,” you yawn, walking over to start picking up broken glass.

“Hey, don’t do that. Let him do it,” Logan says, pulling a cigar out and putting it under the lighter’s flame. “He did this. Let him pick this shit up.”

Erik puts his hand up, letting you know he’s got it. As he starts cleaning up, Logan watches you carefully walk over to sit across the table from him. You lean across it, crossing your arms as you leave your eyes on him. “Give him a break. He’s been through a lot.”

Logan looks your way, taking another puff of his cigar. “Yeah, and he could’ve killed us.”

You shrug, leaning back into the seat while keeping eye contact. “Couldn’t have been that bad. I woke up to the plane flying smoothly.”

Logan takes another puff, a grin wanting to desperately pull onto his lips. Still a heavy sleeper.

“I think you just sleep like the dead,” Logan jokes, leaning forward with his elbows settling on the table.

“I guess.” Your head turned to the window, eyes closing and opening in slow succession. “But seriously, what did we expect? They may have similar ideals for mutant kind, but they are different sides of the same coin. I’m sure seeing one another after a whole decade makes it hard to keep everything bottled up.”

Logan nods in agreement because he can relate. When he saw you for the first time after what felt like a lifetime, it took everything in him not to pull you in. Even now, watching you as the light reflects on your face, he wishes he could seat you in his lap like he would after a long day of training. Having his arms around you as you curled into his side, feeling your warmth against him, made everyday worth living.

There was some reprieve when he was helping you after you stretched your powers to your limits, but he longs for you. He longs for your body, your kisses, your comfort, your love. He longs to show you how much you mean to him, to tell you he loves you. It is too much sometimes, especially in the kitchen at the Pentagon. Seeing how aggressive you were and smelling your scent change to something of want is making everything so much harder. He was already so worked up, he could have easily snapped, but he didn’t and it hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.

There is a part of him that wishes you weren’t here, so he could finally focus, but in reality he is thankful you chose to stay. He knows it is for selfish reasons, but at the same time he knew they’d be lost without you. You give him the strength to keep going; the strength to push forward, even when it’s painful to keep everything he wants to do and say inside. So, he gets it. He gets it so much.

Logan notices you looking at him, and realizes he was staring. He coughs, trying to hide his embarrassment as he puts the cigar to his lips.

“So, is that why you didn’t join either of them after Cuba?”

Your smile is small, like you were reminiscing. “Both had very good points, and it makes sense why they believe the way that they do. Charles tends to see the best in people and Erik sees the worst.”

“So, you couldn’t pick a side?”

“I was only seventeen at the time,” you say. “I wasn’t about to let two grown men tell me what to do, and I’m glad I didn’t. I’m not their keeper.”

“Smart girl.”

You laugh at this, and it feels like dopamine is being injected into his brain. This is the first time he has felt… Joy? Happiness? He could listen to it for days.

“You said they sent you here together. Do they actually become friends again?”

Logan sends a small smile your way, but shakes his head. “It’s complicated.” And it really is. Logan is sure that if the Sentinel’s never came to be, they would still be at some sort of odds against each other. “Like you said, same coin, different sides.”

“I see,” you start to tap your fingers against the table, a nervous habit Logan had picked up on when you two met the first time. “Since we are talking, you never answered my question.”

Logan lifts an eyebrow in confusion, not realizing anything was asked.

“The other night at Max’s. Charles said you knew where to find me. How did you know?”

Logan only hums, taping his cigar to let the ash pool into the crystal tray. He feels like revealing anything about the future is a bad omen, but his restraint is wearing thin, and he can’t help but relent.

“You told me.”

“So, we know each other in the future?”

Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, sweetheart.

“We do,” Logan breathes out.

You leaned in closer, your jaw in your hands. “Are we friends?”

Not quite. “Sure, yeah. We’re friends.”

“Are we close?” You are smiling big, teeth showing. He missed that smile.

“Very close,” he leans in towards you, faces a few inches apart. “So close that I know everything about you.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes flash. “Like what?”

“Ask me something.” He is feeling cocky now.

“Okay,” you draw out, looking around as you contemplate, before your eyes shine back at him. “What’s my favorite band?”

“They don’t exist yet. Not for another couple of decades.”

“What? Really?” You gasped.

“The genre doesn’t even exist yet,” Logan grinned, seeing you surprised going right to his head. “But right now, it would probably be Velvet Underground.”

“Wow, you’re good.” You compliment. “Okay, how about my favorite color?”

“Really?”

“Should be easy if you know me so well.”

Logan vibrates, loving the back and forth happening between the two of you. “It’s blue. Dark blue especially because you love how the sky looks after the sun has set.”

You look down, and Logan wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with one finger. He moves forward just an inch more. “You’re going to have to ask something a little harder, sweetheart.”

You shy away from him, still staying close, a rush of pink added to your cheeks. Fuck, you are so beautiful.

“Okay, well,” you say, still looking away from him. “There is something else I can do with my mutation. What is it that I can do?”

Logan knows this answer far too well. It’s the only reason he was able to be with you as he is, even though he truly believes he would’ve fallen in love with you regardless.

“You can stop yourself from aging.” Logan whispers, not wanting the others to hear. “You use time to stop the clock in your body. You did it for a year after Cuba to try and gain back the time that was lost.”

“I wanted to finish high school, as crazy as that sounds.” You chuckle.

“More like you wanted to continue doing marching band,” Logan says, laughing as you smack his arm.

“Oh God, you must really know me if you know that!” You cackle. “I started aging again after I graduated though.”

“Why is that? Didn’t want to stay seventeen forever?” Logan tries to make light of it, but he knows why. He always knows why.

“Well,” you paused, leaning back into your seat with your hands still on the table. “The war in Vietnam got worse. There were a lot of boys I went to school with that got drafted, and they didn’t make it. If they did, they came back completely altered. Made me realize this isn’t a world worth living in for too long, I guess.”

“I get the feeling,” Logan responds, to which part he isn’t sure.

“And now that I know that the future's so bleaker, is there really a reason to want to keep living for longer than you need to?” You were looking at him so genuinely, and it broke his heart.

He sets his cigar down in the tray and goes to take your hands into his with a squeeze. He looks right at you, hoping what he’s conveying reaches your ears with sincerity and hope. “We can change that tomorrow, and when we do, you will have a reason to keep going.”

The conversation continues for a while, going back to answering questions for you and seeing your face light up when he guesses correctly, and he does every single time. It’s dark out now, the new day counting down to start. Logan can feel himself getting tired, but you? You were dozing off fast with your head against the plane's wall.

“Hey,” Logan reaches over the table, shaking your shoulder. “You should go lay down. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You yawn, stretching your limbs before blinking a few times. “Are you sure? I slept in for most of the day. You should take it.”

“I insist. Besides, I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in here with these bozos.” Logan looks in the direction of Erik and Charles, one sleeping in the chair and the other sprawled on the couch.

“I suppose you’re right, but will you be okay?”

“I’m used to sleeping wherever, so this is nothing. Please, get some sleep.”

Logan watches you get up from your seat, walking over to him before leaning down to his ear. “Goodnight, Logan. Sweet dreams.”

He feels your lips against his cheek, and he inhales sharply. He turns to watch you go into the backroom, and after a long few seconds he releases in an exhale. He puts his head in his hands, rubbing his temples in some poor attempt to calm himself, but his thoughts run fast and there is no stopping them.

He can feel himself close to snapping. It’s like everything you do is calling him in, daring him to do something. He knows it is insane. You don’t know him. If he were to do something, confess everything, what would that do for the future? Everything he says and does can change what the future holds, and a selfish part of him doesn’t care. When it comes to you, he is a selfish bastard.

He leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. Tomorrow is the day things will be set right. When that happens, maybe he will wake up to a world where you are still there. He just needs to hold on a little longer.

Hotel Majestic; Paris, France; Day of the Paris Peace Accords

Getting into the hotel was surprisingly easy. You thought security would’ve been on a high alert, but it was oddly empty. Everyone is able to walk around freely without worry, yet you are still on edge.

You don’t know why, but you’ve had an uneasy feeling ever since the plane landed. You keep relaying it back to nerves, but you know you are lying to yourself. Something isn’t right, and the lack of security here is only making you feel worse.

“Not much security here for a big event like today,” Logan says.

“It’s still a hotel. Anyone can still stay here.” Charles responds. “We still need to be careful though. Stay alert.”

You all make it to the staircase, and you see a map of the hotel. You point to the eastern wing, seeing how the third floor has a section for conference rooms. “Their meeting is most likely happening somewhere here.”

“Okay, let’s get there quick. We are running out of time.” Logan says urgently, and with that everyone is running up the stairs.

Logan is ahead of everyone, and you take notice how much his demeanor changed. He is ultra-focused, his mind only on one thing, and you can’t blame him. You’re sure he is under an insane amount of pressure to ensure he pulls through given the future circumstances. However, you’ve taken notice of how he keeps glancing at you with every chance he gets and it makes you wonder if there isn’t something else going on in that head of his.

Before you can ponder more on it, you hear yelling. You hear things moving harshly and what sounds like bodies hitting the floor. You all take a turn and see a flood of Vietnamese, Russian, and American military personnel running out of a room you can only assume is where your target is: Raven.

You all enter the room, and everything happens so quickly. Raven’s body hits the table, Charles is at her side, and Erik takes the tasers that latched to her body and gets them onto the man to the right of the table.

You hear a rapid beeping and to your left you see a man holding a device, red lines blaring as it goes off. You realize it is Trask, recognizing him from the papers.

You walk up, and before he can probably comprehend what is happening, you snatch the device from his hand. “I’ll take this”

You aren’t scared of him but you back away slowly, ensuring he cannot do anything behind your back. You hear another thump, and turn to see Logan against the wall breathing heavy with eyes screwed tight.

“Logan,” you speak up, walking towards him, but with a few steps in you feel a rush of pain to your head.

You collapse onto the floor, hands holding your head as you start to shake. The pain is sharp and static, forming at the base of your neck and wrapping around your head suffocatingly. You can hear someone calling your name, but it sounds distant.

“Erik…” you hear the fear in Raven’s voice, and with all you can muster you look to see Erik holding a gun. The same one Raven had to kill Trask, now pointed at her head.

Your brain isn’t comprehending anything Erik is saying, but his face is stone cold. Any hope that you were missing something was lost because you knew what he was going to do. It doesn’t take a clear head to see that.

You try to put your hand up, attempting to stop Erik in his tracks. The second your fingers touch his ankle, he kicks it off and places his foot on your wrist. You moan in pain, his weight pressing down enough to bruise.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I’m afraid you are out of commission.” Erik says calmly without taking a peep at you.

Everything happens in slow motion. The pressure is off your wrist, a gun shot sounds, and glass shatters. Your vision is blurry, your head feeling as if it’ll pop off. The people in your vision blur together like paint bleeding in water. Voices are muddled and slow, but loud. You are in agony, and you just want everything to stop.

You start to hear more noise from the other side of the room, and you see Logan’s blurred silhouette on the floor with his back against the wall. His hands clenched in his lap with claws out, breathing rapidly like someone would when they are having a panic attack. You grunt, pushing yourself up on your hands and knees with your jaw clenching tightly as the pain spikes. You crawl towards him with intent, and all you can think is Logan helped you when you were growing weak. He needs someone, and you will help him. Even if it fucking kills you.

“Logan, please say something,” you grit through your teeth, biting back against the strong pulse in your head.

He is unresponsive, and your own panic rises. You both can’t be down, not now. The fate of the world is happening at this very moment, and you aren’t going to let this new ailment weaken you. You grab his left hand, being careful not to freak him out, and quickly change to have a grip on his wrists. You position yourself so you’re hovering over him, knees on either side of his thighs. His eyes are closed shut, his head shaking. It seemed like he was having a nightmare while still being awake.

“Logan, can you hear me?” You say with fast breaths, your head only getting worse, but still there is no response.

Fuck, I have to do something.

You decide to think fast. Maybe, just maybe, you can stop his internal clock, keeping him in place until you can figure out how to get him out of this. You are a little afraid to do it in his current state, not knowing if he will react before everything settles in, but you have no choice. Not unless you want him to cave in on himself. You will stay in pain if it means helping him.

“I got you, Logan. I got you,” you whisper with a tremor and put your hands to his temples, letting your power weasel its way through his mind. Your head clears instantaneously, the throbbing ebb dissipating, causing a sigh of relief to wash over you. However, that relief takes a turn into something startling.

You aren’t sure what’s happening. Logan wasn’t freezing like you were anticipating, but something else was occurring. Your power feels different, like it was searching for something. Whatever you were doing, it seemed to be working. His breathing had slowed down, his claws retracted, and his body became lax against the wall.

The oddest part of all of this though is that you can see everything. It’s like your mind has become a VCR, and a VHS tape of his best memories has been inserted. It’s kind of nice to witness, seeing that even with all he’s gone through, things got better. However, the next thing you see makes your heart stop.

Everything is subdued, but you can tell he is outside on the lawn of Charles’s mansion. It’s bright out, and you see trees. You see young children running around playing, some using their mutations to get the upper hand in their games. And then he shifts, his eyes going to his side to see a figure beside him. His hand reaches out to them and the image clears.

It’s you. Holy shit, it’s you!

You looked older. Not by much but maybe by a few years. The way you’re presented is more mature, but still has that edge. You honestly liked it, and liked the idea of who you would become.

His hand goes to your face, stroking the skin of your cheek and you watch as both of your hands go to the one lingering. You pressed a kiss to his palm, eyes closing and staying that way until you open them and pull your lips away.

“I didn’t know you had come home.” You said, but it was playful.

“Got back early this morning. Didn’t want to wake you.”

“You can always wake me up, Logan. I missed you so much.”

“You have no idea how much I missed you, sweetheart.”

You watch his arms pull you in, but before you watch it happen your mind forces itself away. You feel tears dotting your face. And from the looks of it, Logan had tears on his face too.

What was all that?

“Is he okay?” You hear Charles coming from behind you, a slight edge to his voice.

“I-I got him,” you stutter, shock still in your system. “You and Hank stop Erik.”

There’s no response except for feet pacing away and out the door. You look around and see everyone is gone, most likely getting out during the chaos. You hear a grunt, and turn to see Logan’s eyebrows scrunched up. His lips are quivering, and he is starting to shake again. When you see more teardrops form, you let go of him.

“Shit, I overdid it,” you say under your breath, even though you have zero clue on what you did.

His eyes shoot open, causing you to almost jump off of him if it weren’t for him pulling you back to him. His hands are on your face, thumbs pressing into your cheeks like he doesn’t know if you are really here or not. He says your name softly, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“Logan, are you okay?” You say, hands going to his wrists to steady yourself. In that instance he pulls you in, gripping you tightly in his hold and rocking back and forth with you.

“Oh God, you’re alive. Fuck I thought I lost you.” You hear the pain in his voice, but it confuses you.

“Logan, I’m right here. I’m okay,” you reassure, arms wrapping around his head. You try to comfort him, but he just grips you harder.

“I’m sorry,” he says but it’s muffled with his face buried in your neck. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

There is a dampness from his tears, along with the feel of his lips on your skin. His kisses are bruising, like he is trying to convince himself. You, on the other hand, are experiencing so much. You don’t know Logan, but it is very apparent he knows you. He says you two were close friends, but the more he continues to kiss your neck, the more you think there is something else he isn’t telling you. You can take a pretty good guess to what that is.

You are starting to think you’re going to be in this position forever, until you hear footsteps enter the room.

“We need to get ou-“ you can hear that it’s Charles. “What’s going on?”

Your mouth opens to say something but shuts when nothing comes out. You don’t know what to say and you don’t want to say anything that may set Logan into another fit of unrest.

“Charles, go pull the car around discreetly. Make sure you have Hank. We will be down shortly.”

Once again, Charles leaves with no response. You turn your attention back to Logan, who is still weeping against you. You keep holding him tightly, thinking about how you are going to get him up to leave. As luck would have it, however, it is like something snaps back inside him because next thing you know you are being pushed away.

“What are you doing?”

You quickly hop off of him, standing up in the process to provide some distance. You observe him, and see the shift back to how he was before he started to spiral. Still, there is something wild in his eyes, and you have yet to determine if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Oh thank God,” you sigh in relief. “You had me worried for a second.”

He groans, rubbing his head as he gets his bearings. You should wait to ask; you really should. But you need to know what he saw, and more specifically if he saw what you had seen.

“What happened? What did you see?”

“I saw someone that is going to bring me a lot of pain one day.” Logan looks to the side, and you follow his gaze to where that military man once was.

“I also saw…” he starts, only to look around and notice you two are the only ones in there. “Where is everyone? Where’s Raven?”

“She’s… she’s gone.”

“What?” His head snaps to you, eyes blown wide.

You look down, a sigh leaving your lips at today’s turn of events. You feel the room shift, a tension building that feels foreign to you. You feel guilty, even though you know you shouldn’t, but you feel like you’ve failed him. He is here to fix things, and now no one has a clue if what happened will make things better or worse. From how he is reacting, it can only be the latter.

“We need to leave.” Logan mutters, already walking towards the exit. “Let’s go.”

He isn’t looking at you but waits for you to move. You nod, even though there is no recognition to come, and you walk ahead with him trailing behind you.

Yep, definitely the latter.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY

The trip back felt like it had taken years off your lifespan, the stress that had surrounded the jet almost unbearable. Everyone had feelings of failure and guilt, as it took no telepath to see that, but what made things worse was how much Logan was distancing himself.

You had thought after what happened you would get to know more, but there was none of that, not even a word. It’s like you had burned him with the way he kept his distance. Even on the jet, a space with little room, he stayed far. You had purposely moved closer, and he made an excuse to get up only to sit at the opposite end of the jet. It upset you, and you hate that it did. You shouldn’t feel anything about him, yet after that stupid memory you saw, you do. How could you not?

You didn’t realize it at the time, but feeling how far he is from you makes your body ache in a way that’s unfamiliar. The way your body had felt against his, how solid he was, had you yearning. The way he had held you like you were the most precious thing he possessed had you wanting. If you are interpreting his memory correctly, then why is he holding you from such a distance?

Does he feel like it would be cheating? You know that’s you but that isn’t you now. You are different but how different? Different enough to warrant him to see you as a completely different person?

To be fair, you don’t know his past or even his future, but your heart is starting to want to go where he is. It’s like there is a red string connected between you two that stretches far and wide. You can’t help but think you harbor these feelings because no matter what, you were destined to be with him and he was destined for you. Nothing can cut that string, but it can stretch tightly and that string is losing its thread.

Currently, you are sitting at the top of the stairs, waiting for someone to come out of Charles’s room. Logan and Hank had taken him there, his legs having given out and his mind going off the rails as the effects of his medicine wear off. You chose to distance yourself so as to not overcrowd.

You could hear them talking, sometimes with voices raising and then going soft again. You couldn’t make out what they were discussing, only hearing certain words that have no meaning without context. It isn’t until you hear the door click open that you stand, seeing Hank leaving the room quickly followed by Logan.

“Is he okay?” You ask, watching Hank come towards you fast.

“He’s going to try and find Raven using Cerebro.” He says walking fast past you down the stairs. “Getting his wheelchair!”

Logan follows him, not glancing at you or saying a word causing you to frown. You are hot on his heels, having more questions desperate for answers.

“Logan, is he going to be alright?”

“Yep, just fine. Hank and I will be right beside him.” Logan says curtly, walking towards Charles’s old office.

“What about me?” You ask, but it falls on deaf ears as he starts to look for something.

“Logan.” You were starting to get frustrated. What the fuck is his problem?

He finally finds what he’s looking for, and you see him slam a phone book onto the desk. He is flipping through it just a touch too aggressive, pages cringing as he flips the pages. He then stops and puts his finger down on a number before picking up the phone and clocking in the digits.

“Seriously, Logan. Who could you possibly be calling?” You ask him, only to get fucking pissed at his next few words.

“I need a cab for 1407 Graymalkin Lane-”

“What the hell are you doing?!” You storm towards him, getting more irritated by the second.

“Calling you a taxi. You are going home.” Logan growls out, about to continue speaking before you snatch the phone from him and slam it back down.

“Like hell I am!” You yell. “Just as I told you a couple days ago, I am not going anywhere. You all need me.”

He slams his hands down against the table, making you jump back. “Listen here, princess. I don’t care how much you think we need you because it doesn’t fucking matter. We need to focus. I need to focus. I cannot do that with you here, so you are going to take a cab back to New York City. Do you understand?”

The daggers in his eyes are sharp, trying to make you give in to his demands. You know better and you can see right through him. “Is this about what happened in Paris?”

He scoffs, turning away from you to walk away. “It was nothing you need to worry about. Just saw someone that is going to make my life hell. I am fine.”

“That isn’t what I am talking about. When I was trying to calm you down, I saw something.” You say, and it stops him in his tracks.

“What do you mean you saw something?” He turns, facing you. “What could you have possibly seen?”

“I was trying to stop your panic attack by stopping the conception of time in your brain, but I did something else. Something I didn’t know I could do.” You explain, and his face softens from anger to confusion.

“I think I somehow moved your consciousness forward in time,” you continued. “I was able to see where I was moving it. It was how I was able to get you to settle down.”

He is in front of you instantly, hands on your shoulders in a tight grip. “What did you see?”

“I saw myself through your eyes.” You breathed out. “We were out on the lawn behind the mansion.”

“What else did you see?” Logan shakes you a little, causing you to squeak. He is starting to scare you a little bit; the way he is behaving is very irrational.

“That was all I saw, I swear.” You say honestly.

Logan sighs deeply, tilting his head back with eyes closed. He lets go of you, taking steps back until he’s against the wall. You are growing worried with how he is acting. You wish he would just tell you everything. Tell you what you two really were. Tell you what is running through his head. Tell you what is scaring him so badly. Seeing him so vulnerable has shaken you, but you can’t back down.

“We weren’t just friends,” you whisper. “We were far more, weren’t we?”

Logan’s breath hitches, and his mouth opens to speak but no words come.

“It explains everything. The way you’ve been acting since we met. I can see the longing in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look after me. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Logan laughs but it isn't playful. It sounds like a laugh that comes to cover the hurt and is full of self-pity.

“It matters to me!” You lament. “I want to know why.”

“Listen,” Logans says, his tone becoming solemn. “Whatever I say or do here affects the future as we know it. Me even being in the same vicinity as you these last few days has made everything extremely difficult for me. If say or do one thing wrong, that’s it. The future I have with you ceases to exist and you cease to exist.”

“What do you mean I cease to exist?” You ask, taken aback by his confession.

Logan’s face pales, quickly turning to go back up the stairs. “Fuck, I’ve said to much.”

Your hand grabs his, yanking him back enough to keep him still. “Logan, what do you mean I cease to exist?”

Both of your emotions are running high, bubbling to the point of overflow; the edge you both were teetering on, about to fall over. You shouldn’t push it, but rationality is no longer home; only frustration.

“Logan, I swear to God if you don’t tell me what the fuck it is you mean I-“

“You die in the future! Is that what you want to hear?” Logan shouts, and everything goes quiet.

You are stunned. “What?”

“You die during the first few Sentinel attacks.” Logan rips his hand away like he’s having an adverse reaction.

“So,” you start, not knowing where you want to go with this question. “So you’re afraid I’m sealing my fate by being here?”

“I’m afraid I once again won’t be able to save you.” Logan says with a pained expression.

“You don’t need to worry about me. If something happens, I can just shift time back and we can prevent it.”

“God, you are still so stubborn,” he heaves. He is now face level with you on the steps, and he takes your face in his hands.

“You don’t understand how hard it is for me to stay away. The first time I saw you at the nightclub, all I wanted to do was pull you into me. It is taking everything in me not to hold you like I want to. To kiss you, to love you. But the more I let you in, the more I am close to giving in. I will not divulge my desires at the risk of everyone that is counting on me, especially you.”

You can see his torment, and all you want is to comfort him. You want to kiss him so bad. You want to pull him by his shirt and never let him go. You understand his love for you, but you want him to understand that you would go to end with him, no matter what.

Your hands go to his wrists, keeping his hands in place. “Have you considered that you coming back here and me being here with you was meant to happen? What if me being here helping you all saves me? What if it extends our lifetime together?”

He doesn’t say anything, but the way he is looking at you makes you weep. His lip quivers, his eyes start to shine, and his jaw is clenching hard enough to break teeth. Your hands slither up his arms to his shoulders. You feel magnetized, your face inching closer to his to see if he will have a change of heart. You are close enough to feel his breath shutter against your lips, and your heart is beating so fast you are sure he can hear it. You feel slight contact, a ghost of a kiss before full impact, but it never comes.

“Logan!” Charles yells from upstairs. “We are getting ready to go.”

Logan is quick to pull away, sending a wave of hurt towards you. He breathes out a stuttered breath before yelling a response and heading upstairs, but before he goes up he turns his head towards you. “There is money on Charles's desk. Please leave while you have the chance.”

He goes upstairs not looking back and you watch as he disappears from your view. You stand there for a while, deep in thought as you weigh your options, but you knew what you were going to do. Even though Logan was afraid, and rightfully so, you had a gut feeling everything would turn itself around.

So, with heavy steps, you walk up the stairs and down the hall, picking the second to last room on the right. It is barren aside from a bed and a dresser, and seeing the bed made you realize how exhausted the day's events have made you. You shut the door, and flop onto the bed, letting sleep take over and dreams manifest.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY; Four Hours Later

20 Text Messages.

10 Missed Calls.

3 Voice Messages.

Voice Message 1: Hey baby, just calling you to tell you goodnight. Don’t worry about waking me when you get home. I wanna see you as soon as you get in. Get back safely. I love you.

Voice Message 2: Logan, something is wrong. There are a bunch aircrafts above the mansion. Not sure what is happening. Myself and the others are getting the kids together. I’d rather be safe than sorry. Please be cautious when you get home. I love you.

Voice Message 3: Logan. Logan! Whatever you do, please do not come to the mansion! It’s under attack! Those Sentinels are here and- oh God Logan it’s a slaughter. Please do not come! I’ll find you once I’m safe. I love you!

Logan is running like hell to the mansion, and he can see them. They swarm the building like flies, crawling along the brick. There are fires, giant gaping holes in the wall, and bodies… so many bodies.

He gets in, staying close to the wall as he listens. He can hear the Sentinel bodies grind and creak as they move, hunting down any mutant that hasn’t been vanquished. He sniffs deeply, trying to find you in the building. He hopes you made it out already, but that hope is lost when he gets a strong whiff of you and blood.

So much blood.

He enters the foyer, and dead center he sees your body, a hole pierced into your stomach. He sees your mouth open, trying to breath but your chest stammers as it goes down.

No. No, no, no!

He is at your side, pulling you into his arms. He cradles your head, his hand going to the hand holding your wound. Your eyes are slitted, a dazed look looking right back at him. It’s haunting how dull you are starting to look, and every second adds to his panic.

“Baby, I’m here. I’m here.”

Your free hand, the one not stained in your own blood, clutches onto his shirt. You pulled on it so lightly, strength slowly fading away.

“I told you not to come,” you whimpered. “It’s not safe here.”

“I wasn’t about to leave you here to deal with this alone. We gotta get you out of here.”

“No, you do.”

“Don’t say that,” he said sternly. “You are coming with me.”

He lets go to take his belt and shirt off. Balling up the shirt, he moves your hand to put the fabric against your stomach.

“Fuck!” You screamed.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Bear with me, please.”

He is crying, holding his sobs in as tears break over the dam. He takes his belt and wraps it around your torso, keeping the pressure so more blood doesn’t come out. There is already so much around you.

“I’m gonna lift you up, okay?”

He wraps your arms around his neck, getting a grip under your legs and your back before lifting you up.

“I got you. I got you.”

He starts walking back from where he came, but he wasn’t so lucky this time. He sees them on the ground, making their way up from where he entered. He turns quickly, thinking the only other way out is through the tunnels.

He hits the secret door, and just as it opens he hears one coming their way. He shoves you both through, getting it shut before he starts making his way down. He is making multiple turns, his mind spinning in a haze as he goes to find the exit. He feels your breathing slow, and for the first time in a long time he is scared. You are everything. Without you, he is nothing.

He makes one final turn, the exit at the end, but he halts in his spot. All he sees is carnage. There is blood on the walls, bodies of students, and marks from where their gifts were used. The exit door had been beaten down, the walls cracked and gone along with it.

“Good God…” He shouldn’t have come down here.

He turns to go back, but from the shadows comes one of them. It blends in with the concrete, and makes itself known once it’s in reach. Its arm shifts into something sharp, and once formed it draws down to where he stands, but just as quickly he dodges with you in his arms.

“We’re not dying today, bub.”

He starts to run like hell towards the exit, only to see another one pop up at the opening. He takes a sharp turn, getting the runaround to make it back to the entrance. It’s a maze of turns, feeling like it’ll take an eternity to get to safety, but with one final turn he has it.

And then he doesn’t.

Rubble had fallen from the flooring above and made its way down creating a massive blockage. It’s a fucking dead end.

The two Sentinels approach, both opening their mouths to burn you two alive. He crouches down with his back facing them, preparing to take anything they give him. He will suffer. Good God, he will suffer. But if he can fake them out enough to leave, you will be safe. That’s all that matters.

But the pain never comes.

“Logan.”

He looks down to see you holding your arms out, and his eyes widen when he realizes you are using your powers. He turns to see the Sentinels, but they are still moving. Just incredibly slow.

“Logan, you need to leave.”

He turns back to you, and sees your body shaking. The work he had put into keeping the blood from spilling was fatal. You were hemorrhaging.

“I’m not leaving you here. I won’t do it.”

You let out a pitiful cry, your tears streaming down your cheeks. He can see his too as they mix with yours.

“There is no saving me. Let me save you, please.”

“Baby, I-“

“Do not let me die in vain, Logan. They need you.”

“But I need you!”

“I know, and I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need. It’s selfish, I know.”

“You’re damn right it is.”

“But please, let me be selfish. Let me save you.”

He can start to feel the heat, the Sentinels mouths setting wide enough to set this tunnel ablaze. Everything is telling him to stay, but the way you are looking at him breaks him and it makes him cave.

He can never say no to you.

“Go. Find the others. Make sure they are safe. God, please make sure they are safe.”

“I love you, sweetheart,” Logan chokes, holding you just a little tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am too.”

He kisses you. It’s soft yet full of sorrow. It’s a kiss of death, he knows it.

“I’ll see you in the next life.”

You smiled at that. It’ll be the last smile he sees from you. “Go quickly. I can’t hold on much longer, Logan.”

He lets go, gently setting you down, before he runs past the Sentinels and makes his way back to the exit. The second he was out of sight, he heard it. The roar of the flames, the mechanical sounds from their armor, and your screams.

All he can hear is your screaming.

Your screams.

You are fucking screaming.

Logan shoots up from the bed, a yell cutting off from his lips as he enters consciousness. He is breathing rapidly, swallowing nonexistent spit as he works to pull himself together. His claws were all the way out, a common side effect of his trauma response. He feels how cool the air is in the room due to the sweat that coated his body.

He didn’t think he could dream in this current state. He hasn’t had that dream in a while, even though he wishes it was simply that. He used to have it so often, a constant reminder that he failed you and let you suffer just so he could get away. Having to relive the worst day of his life over and over is his own form of hell.

He hears a knock at the door, startling him from his state of being.

“Logan?”

He freezes up, knowing that voice from anywhere. He really doesn’t want you in here, not with him like this. Not with him feeling so exposed.

“I’m fine!” He calls out, hoping you would take the hint, but he knows better.

He watches the door open and you appear. You are still in your beat up clothes, leather jacket and dirty shoes forgotten. Nothing has changed, but you look even more beautiful than you have since he’s gotten here. Maybe it’s because his senses are heightened. Maybe it’s the way the floodlights from outside shine on you in contrast with the dark room. Simply, maybe it is just you.

“I thought I told you to leave.” He says, trying to sound annoyed, but failing miserably.

“Yeah, and I told you I wasn’t going to let grown men tell me what to do.” You responded, shutting the door behind you.

“Hmph,” he groused, looking down at his hands as his claws sink back into his flesh.

He hears you get closer, feet pattering against the wooden floors. “I could hear you in your sleep. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” But am I really? “Just a nightmare.”

He looks out the window, the night in full effect. The bed dips, and he looks to see you sitting down at the end. He sees it in your face that you don’t believe him, which isn’t surprising. You’ve always been able to read him no matter the circumstances.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he says quickly. He doesn’t want to relive it twice in one night.

“Okay, okay,” you say calmly. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

Please stay, so I know this is real.

That’s what he wants to say, but he feels like he will choke. His silence is deafening, so much so he sees your face twist in reaction.

“If you want to be alone, I understand.” You got up from the bed. “Goodnight, Logan.”

There was a time when he didn’t need to be strong or to carry the weight of others. With you as his anchor, he could be exposed. He has had to be strong for so long in recent years, but with you right here in front of him, he feels himself caving. So many emotions are rushing to his head, a battle between the Devil and God raging. He knows it’s wrong to interfere with the past, especially when there are consequences, but after tonight his sanity is slipping. Before he knows it, his hand grabs your arm to keep you from taking another step.

“Stay,” he whispers, a hint of a crack that is only noticed by him. “Please.”

“Okay,” you say with ease. “Where do you want me?”

The angel on his shoulder is telling him to not give in, yet the little, conniving demon on the other side is telling him what he wants to hear. He wants you close; needs you close.

“Will you let me hold you?”

He thought there may be some hesitation, but there is none. You walk back over to the bed, and he lays back as you climb onto it. His arm is out to invite you in, and you situate yourself to him. Your left arm is cradled into your chest and your right curls so your hand is where his heart is. Your head settles where his right arm and shoulder connect.

“Is this okay?”

It’s more than okay. “Yes, thank you.”

You both lay there for a while, and he lets his senses completely take over. The first thing he senses is your smell. There is something so sugary sweet about your scent. He equates it closely to something he’d smell in a candy shop with housemade confections. It’s intoxicating, and makes him hungry.

You fit into his arms just right. The skin from your cheek laying on his exposed shoulder brings a comfort he hasn’t had in so long. It made him realize how touch-starved he’s been. He hasn’t touched another woman since your passing, and the thought of doing so makes his stomach turn. He only wants to feel you against him, in every sense of the word.

The most shocking thing for him is to hear how calm you sound. Your breathing is deep and slow. Your heartbeat is sounding its soothing rhythm under your ribcage. It’s the opposite of how his heart was reacting; hard and fast pumps of blood rushing. He feels your hand rubbing circles over his heart, and he wonders if you can tell how much you are affecting him.

“Tell me something about me from the future.”

Logan looks down at you, and you look so peaceful as you lay with him. Does he do this to you?

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Something good.”

There are so many good things about you. It’s hard to divulge into just one thing, but even then he knows where to start.

“You teach music at the school.”

You perked your head up at this. “I teach?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, smiling to himself. “You do a lot of the extracurricular activities for the younger ones, but music is one you do a lot of. You’re really good with kids.”

You move your body, hands on top of one another on his chest. Your head lays on them, looking at him with a smile that makes his heart beat faster.

“Sounds like I’ve become a lot more patient in the future.”

“Trust me,” Logan chuckles. “You are still quite stubborn, but you are different with them.”

Logan loved seeing you with the kids. He remembers how nervous you were to teach the younger students, but he knew you would do well. Seeing how you interacted with them during class, how you encouraged them and gave them the will to work hard. So many of the kids came from families who despised who they were. You became a mother-figure to a lot of them.

He thinks about the time he woke up to kids laughing and looked out the window to see you running around with them. You were carrying on with them, laughing with them, looking at them with care and love. It was the moment he realized he would love to start a family with you. Watch you grow with his child, see you love them like you love the kids at school. It makes his heart twist.

“Did they like me?”

“Oh, sweetheart. They loved you.” Loved. God, you were so loved by them.

“Can I ask something?” You ask.

“Anything.” He can feel himself getting lost in you, his hand subconsciously caressing your hair.

“What I did in Paris,” you start. “You seemed genuinely confused when I explained what I did earlier. Was that something I couldn’t do in the future?”

When you told him you brought his memories to the forefront of his mind, shifting time in his brain, he was shocked. Your mutation is special, and the control you had over it is simply astounding. He isn’t surprised that your powers can do more than what was discovered originally, but it now begged the question: what triggered it and why now?

“No,” Logan says with the shake of his head. “What do you think caused it?”

“Logan, I think you did.” He hears you hesitate.

“What do you mean?”

He watches as you sit up, crossing your legs. Your hands grab his right hand, thumbs pushing into his skin right where his mutated bones come out. It is strange how different you are acting in comparison to the last few days. You are acting like the you he gets to know later, the edge in your attitude completely gone. Maybe this is who you are or maybe… you are only this way with him.

“So, the day we met, earlier that day, I saw you come out of the Algonquin.”

He sits up at this, heart picking up more. “You were there?”

“I pulled over because I started to get a terrible migraine. It was so bad I thought I was having a stroke or something, but then it stopped like it was never there. Next thing I know, I see you and I can't look away. I felt like I knew you and I didn’t know why.”

“Has it happened more than once? The migraines?” Logan is pulled into your direction, back hunching slightly to get closer even when he doesn’t realize it.

“It happened again at Max’s when you introduced yourself.”

His eyes widen, the pieces coming together. “That’s why you looked like you were in pain.”

“I chalked it up to having drank too much,” you huffed out a laugh. “It didn’t make sense at the time, but after Paris I can’t shake the feeling.”

“So what are you saying? That I opened your mind?”

“If I didn’t have access to this part of my mutation from the future you are from, what if that means this was all meant to happen?” You brought his hand to your chest where your heart lies and he can feel directly where your heart beats.

Where it beats for him.

“I wasn’t even the one meant to come here,” Logan says in denial. “It was supposed to be Charles.”

“But what if it wasn’t?” You grip his hand harder, pushing it further against you. “What if you were meant to find me to make things right? To save everyone. To save us. Maybe this is fate trying to tell you something.”

He is becoming weak. Your words are so honest and it is taking nothing to believe you. Maybe you are right, maybe you are wrong. You haven’t seen the bloodbath the future becomes, but maybe you don’t need to have seen to know. Your words, your reasoning; both make his resolve crack and there isn’t much left. Having you here in front of him, being so reassuring and confident, he isn’t going to last.

“What are you thinking right now, Logan?” You ask gently, and if he is seeing things correctly, he sees how much you want him to give in. And that’s all he needs.

“I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now.”

His hand on your chest is pulled lower, down to your left breast where you curl your fingers over his to squeeze the flesh. “Then do it.”

To say the dam has broken would be an understatement. The dam has vaporized, mass flooding reaching the heavens. Those three words were enough for him to snatch you into his arms, pull you on top of him, and get his lips onto yours. He has your thighs on either side of his own, holding you so close that your crotch is pressed tightly against his. Your hands are holding onto his shoulders with nails digging into his skin, and fuck he loves it.

His hands are all over you; going from your hips to your ass to the small of your back to your head. He wants to touch every part of you and memorize every inch of your skin. His fingers bundle up the bottom of your top, pushing it up with his fingertips to let his palms glide along your waist. You gasped against his lips, giving him the opportunity to let his tongue fondle yours.

He unclasps your bra as his hands reach the middle of your back, giving him the chance to take both items of clothing off your body. He pulls away from you, back leaning against the headboard as he takes you in. Your body is just as he remembered it, and he could weep at how stunning you are.

“Do I look okay?” There is a hint of uncertainty in your voice, and it sends his hands to gently bring your face down to him.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on.” His eyes bore into yours as he tells you, needing you to know how much he means it.

Before he can say anything else, your lips are back on his. He lets you take the lead, your tongue leading him in a dance. It gives him the opportunity to focus his hands on your breasts. You whimper against his mouth and he feels you push your chest into his palms as he massages them, which causes a little smirk to form at the corner of his mouth. You had always loved when he played with them as it turned you on like nothing else.

“Good to know your tits have always been so sensitive,” he murmurs against your lips, thumb and pointer fingers going to pinch the puckered buds.

A high-pitched moan is pulled from you, your hips involuntary grinding against him in response. Your lips let go of his, and they end up going to his cheek. “I guess you know how to get me going, don’t you?”

“Oh baby, I know your body like the back of my hand,” he hums with a rumble. He can play your body like an instrument, the song being your sweet noises. He is going to show you just how well he makes you sing.

He is quick to flip you over, removing his white wife pleaser in the process before his hands go to your jeans. He yanks them down with your panties and you help kick them off before he tosses them aside. He goes to take his own off, stripping everything away until he is as naked as you are.

He crawls up to you, moving your thighs over his hips. His hands reach under your back and he pulls you into his lap. Your legs wrapped around him, and he groans as your wet cunt sits against his cock. His left arm stays wrapped around you, and his right hand holds the back of your head with fingers at the roots of your hair. Your hips start grinding up onto his erection, mewls so sweet that he can’t help but consume them.

He pulls your head to the side by your hair gently, tugging just enough to get a reaction from you. Your eyes flutter, and he hums as he lets his lips ghost over your ear.

“I have every little spot of yours memorized,” he kisses behind your ear, his tongue peeking out for a little lick before kissing in the same spot. “Even if you think you know what they are, just know I know all of them.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you say with a shiver, making your body press further into the heat he is projecting.

“Mmm that’s right.” His lips go down to the underside of your jaw where your pulse is, kissing it gingerly to prepare you for his next act. “Keep that up.”

He bites down slowly on the crevice, letting his teeth sink in far enough to leave his mark. Your hands are on his head, cooing softly at the distinct pressure. He releases, licking the indents he left in your skin to soothe the ache.

“You sound so pretty, baby,” he murmurs. “Let me see if you know this one.”

His mouth trails down, sucking marks into your skin until he gets down to your sternum. His back hunches down, leaning you back to get the angle just right. He sets his tongue to work, letting the tip trail a stripe up until he reaches the notch between your collarbones. A little gasp followed by a hushed curse falls from your lips. The sensation causes you to squirm in his lap and it makes his dick twitch against your folds. Logan isn’t a patient man in most regards, but he could spend an eternity exploring your body. Your reactions fuel him and they send blood right down to his cock.

“Didn’t know about that spot, did you?”

“No, ah!” Logan pulls another gasp from you as he nibbles around the edges. “Getting me addicted to you early, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, angel.” Logan can’t help himself, thrusting his hips up a little to let his length rub into your pussy; so wet and so good. “I’ll have you yearning for me for decades to come.”

As he proceeds the motion of his hips, tightening his hold on you, he allows his right hand to come up to your left breast. With his tongue and cock being a distraction, he pulls at your taut nipple at the same time his teeth bite down on your collarbone. You cry out his name, his hair being fisted and pulled. He can’t help the wanton moan that spills out, riling him up to no end.

Your breast feels so at home in his hand, but looking at how pretty your nipples look, flushed from his treatment, he gets a craving. His tongue makes a path down, making its way to the left and up until it slithers to your erected bud. His mouth latches, encircling the peak as he sucks earnestly. He continues rutting into you, feeling his and your fluids coating his appendage.

Logan feels himself becoming drunk. With you in his arms reciprocating his intentions, it’s like he is weightless. Something deep in his scarred heart is healing. Years of trauma from seeing and experiencing the unthinkable transform into the better things in life. He thinks of the future he could have with you. A future where you take his last name. A future where you two live in a little home decorated however you choose. A future with your belly big with his kid, where he can kiss your stomach every morning and every night. A future where you and him raise a child. He wants that. He wants that so bad.

In his drunken haze, he feels one of your hands leave his head. Your fingertips send his nerves alight as they trail down his arm. You are tracing the veins that are bulging out, and he grunts as they go over to his chest. He has switched to your other breast, and as he starts, he feels your palm against his cock. You are pushing it more into your cunt, thumb running over his fat tip as you rub it.

“Fuck,” he curses with a pop. “You are such a greedy girl.”

“What can I say?” You jest. “I know what I want.”

“And what would that be, sugar?” He thrusts against you, cockhead rubbing up and down your clit.

You smiled at him, and your other hand goes from his head to his jaw. Fingers slightly scratching his beard with your thumb on his bottom lip, you lean back into him with knees shifting. They are on either side of him now and his tip is being lined up against your hole. Your eyes seek out his, and he can’t look away as he admires you. You are beautiful, an angel sent down for him. Every version of you is perfect, and for every version of you he will sacrifice everything.

“I want you to make love to me,” you say with a shuttered breath. “Show me how you love me. Show me what I have to look forward to.”

Logan’s tip is enveloped by your heat by the time you finish, and your words were the full confirmation he needed to seat you fully onto his shaft.

It’s like gasping for air with how intense his reunion with you feels. You fit perfectly around him. It’s almost too good to be true. Part of him is wondering if he is still dreaming, but with how warm and snug you are, it has to be real. This has to be happening.

You lift your hips until all that’s connected is the head before dropping back down. His cock glides right in and he grunts as you work yourself on him. He guides your movements with his hands, both on your plush ass and giving a squeeze with every bounce. Your arms have since wrapped around his neck, head hiding in his neck. Your hot breath fans across his skin, your teeth nipping at him every time he fills you up.

He loves how you are taking what you need, letting you keep the pace to get used to his size. Normally during an intimacy session, he would prepare you more thoroughly. He’d pleasure you with his mouth, letting his spit coated tongue lubricate your pretty pussy. He’d finger you open, getting you nice and relaxed for his heavy cock. He would add another when your little noises got rowdier, a tell-tale sign that you needed more. He did everything to ensure you were ready for him, the enjoyment of your pleasure and taste a perk in the endeavor. With how you are riding him, however, it feels like you are preparing him. Taking it slow, letting him savor you, letting him know that this is real and you are his.

“You feel incredible, Lo,” you whimper into his neck. He just about mimics you after hearing you call him by that little nickname.

“I can say the same to you, pretty girl.” He lifts your head by your hair, putting your forehead to his as he rocks up into you. “Taking my cock so well. You were made for me. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “I’ll always be yours. In every lifetime, I am yours and you are mine.”

He chokes out a laugh, completely overwhelmed with emotion. He kisses your swollen lips with ease, his tongue flicking out to savor your taste. Every moan that comes out is captured by his mouth, swallowing the sweet sounds desperately. He notices your hips start to slow, and your whining gets more consistent. He knew you were tiring, but that was okay. He has enough energy and greed to take over. You make him greedy, and he needs more.

“Did you want me to take over, baby?”

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “Take me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He shifts himself, keeping you two connected as he gets you onto your back. He situates you so your legs are wrapped around his torso, legs pushed down so your thighs are almost to your chest. The angle he has you in gives him the chance to push in just a little more, his tip putting pressure onto your cervix.

“Oh God, you are so deep,” you mewl, clenching down on his cock causing him to groan at the grip.

“That’s right, baby. Damn you look so beautiful like this.”

“Yeah? I look beautiful with your big cock in my pretty pussy?”

“Fuck, you got a mouth on you.” Logan thrusts shallowly in response, a whine ripping out from your throat. “But to answer your question, you look beautiful no matter what.”

He starts thrusting long, deep strokes into you. He lets one hand stick to your hip, and the other has a gentle grip on your jaw to keep your head in place. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and in an instant your tongue latches to it. It draws it in, getting it so your lips close around it and suck on it as your tongue lathers it. Your eyes shut, and you hum happily like you are savoring the musk from his skin. It enraptured him, making him pick up the pace, hips starting to slam against you.

He’s on the cusp of his release. He doesn’t want this end, not by a long shot. But tonight will become tomorrow. A new day will start where the stresses of his mission will come to light. All he can do is savor this last little bit of happiness and hope sometime soon he will wake up with you by his side.

“Lo, I’m close,” you grunt out.

He takes his soaked thumb, bringing it down to your bundle of nerves. “I’ll get you there, baby. Cum whenever you are ready.”

He swirls your clit at an easy pace, a contrast to how he is slamming into you. He is battering into your pussy, hitting that spot he knows all too well. Your moans grow louder, more accustomed to his hard hitting movements. The sounds of wet slapping with moaning and grunting fill the room, and with the slightest bit of added pressure to your clit he gets you there; right where he wants you.

Your back is arching off the bed, nails finding purchase on his thighs. Your moans are breathless, the wind knocked out as he continues the fast pace of his hips. He looks down where the two of you are connected, watching the white fluid flow down between your ass and drip onto the bed. He can smell it and something snaps in his brain where he wants more.

He can tell you are coming down from your high, but he isn’t having any of that. His length stills, fully seated in you, and starts rutting the tip against your g-spot.

“Fuck, it’s too much,” you cry out. “Logan, please!”

“I got you, pretty girl. Just need you to cum on my cock one more time.”

You nod, and he pushes his hips harder, and it isn’t long before you are wailing with another release. This sets him off again, and he pulls almost fully out before pistoning his cock in and out rapidly as he prolongs your orgasm. You are wailing his name, and he can see tears falling down the sides of your eyes from how good he was making you feel. He is on top of a hill about to roll down, and before he releases, he pulls out.

Your legs try to shut, but his thighs prevent it. He takes two fingers and sticks them into your cunt to continue riding your release out. His other hand fists his cock over your stomach, and with a growl he is cumming in ropes. White paints your tummy until it’s pooling down into your belly button, drenching the skin and making it sheer. He is breathing heavy, orgasmic bliss fading into something more peaceful. He sees you are on the same boat, chest going up and down. It isn’t until he hears a sob crash out from your lips and more tears forming that he snaps out of his daze.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He is urgent as he gets off the bed, getting closer to you from the side of the bed. His hands are immediately on your face, thumbs wiping away the new droplets trailing down.

“I’m sorry,” you choke, staggered breaths coming from you with a mixture of sobs in between. “I’m okay. It was just a lot.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I got carried away.” He goes to kiss the apples of your cheeks where the tears have stained, before standing up fully. “Let me get you cleaned, okay?”

He turns to go get a towel from the bathroom when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, stopping him completely.

“It was a lot, but in a good way.”

He goes to kneel on the ground beside the bed, hands going to yours to kiss your knuckles. “Are you sure you are okay? I wouldn’t dream of hurting you,” he murmurs into your skin.

“Logan, I have never experienced pleasure like that before,” you say hiccuping, causing a laugh to bubble out after. “I never thought I could experience something like that with someone ever.”

It dawns on him that this is technically your first time with him, meaning once the future sets to the right course, this moment will become the first time he made love to you. His mind goes back to the very first time, both coming back from a night out with a need so deep that it was said and done too quickly. This time, he got to cherish you. He got to make your first time with him feel special and adored. It is surreal, and it is everything.

“Why are you crying?” He hears you whisper, a hand escaping his grip to wipe away his own tears.

He didn’t even realize it, but he didn’t care. He didn’t hide it. He lets you wipe them away, mirroring how he tended to yours. “I’m happy. Happier than I have been in a long time.”

He brings his head down to kiss your lips, a light peck that leads to a few more on your face. A giggle leaves your lips, and he swears his face grew more wet.

He looks to see the cum starting to dry on your skin, and he places one more kiss before standing up. “Let me get you cleaned up, and we can rest for a while.”

He rushes to the bathroom, steps heavy, and emerges with a warm, wet towel. He sits on the edge of the bed, taking the fabric to your heat to clean the fluids lingering. He is gentle, not wanting to rub the towel anywhere that’s still sensitive to the touch. He kisses your knees and the inside of your thighs, the fabric now on your tummy as he wipes you clean. Your skin is cleared of any fluids, and with one last kiss to your flesh he pulls away.

He tosses the towel into the sink before going to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet and comforter back to get under. He reaches over to you, pulling you into him as he adjusts the blanket from under you. He settles with you on his chest, just like you were earlier, with the bedding now over your forms. You snuggle up to him, your fingers twirling around the hair on his chest. His fingers brush through your hair, admiring the afterglow you are giving, and thinking about how lucky he is right now.

You are his baby. His life. His soul. He was miserable without you, but he didn’t realize how bad off he was until now. Having you back in his arms, even for a moment, made his soul come to life. It had been rendered useless when it was severed, and now his sense of purpose is strong. The love he is feeling in this room wraps around him snuggly, and he doesn’t want to leave its embrace.

Your left hand pokes out from in between your bodies, and his free hand goes to twiddle with the fingers. He thinks about how big his hands are compared to yours. His whole fist could cover the entirety of your hand, yet your hands are on the rougher side like his. There are some calluses from what he assumes is drumming. They form along the top of your palm where your fingers connect. He stops where your ring finger lies, and he subconsciously sighs.

He remembers how Storm had helped him find a ring for you. You had said how you would love anything he chose because it was from him. However, he wanted it to be a ring that made a statement for his love. He wanted a ring where every time you looked at it, you would know how much he adored you.

He thinks about how back in the future, it is still around his neck like a virtue. It makes him wonder if in the near distant future, when things become sane and good, if he will still have that ring. Will he, who may become a different man after he returns, have the guts to propose to you? He regrets so much, but that is something he regrets greatly. Not proposing before the world fell apart. Not proposing to let you know that he is ready to take the next step, and to let you know he is committed to you even past the point of death. Death do us part doesn’t apply to you or him.

“What’s on your mind?”

He looks down to see you looking up at him, a smile forming on his lips as he takes you in. “Just thinking about how I could go for a cigar right now.”

You smacked his chest, making him grunt out a chuckle. “I’m guessing that’s a common occurrence after these kinds of things.”

“That or we go for round two,” he smirks, laughing as you smack his chest again.

“Horndog,” you mumble into his side.

“A horndog for you, baby.” He goes to kiss you again but then he hears rapid knocking on their door.

“Are you two decent?” Hank asks loudly from behind the door. “This is urgent!”

“Just come in, Hank.” Logan pulls the covers further up on you, a slight possessiveness taking over as Hank comes in. Your body is for his eyes only.

He thought Hank may feel a little embarrassed seeing the two of you like this, but there is none of that. Hank marched over; any social cues forgotten as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Listen, bub, what could possibly be so urgent that you are sitting on the bed I just fucked my girl silly on?”

“Logan!” You scowl.

Hank rolls his eyes. “Raven is going to Washington. Trask is going to be at the White House tomorrow, and she plans to strike. We need to leave tonight.”

“What is happening at the White House?” Logan asked, sitting up on his elbows.

Hank shakes his head in a way that tells Logan it isn’t for anything good. “They are presenting the Sentinel Program tomorrow.”

“Oh God,” you mutter. “Trask is already that far along? Does that mean they could be unleashed sooner?”

Logan shutters at the thought. The idea of the Sentinels starting their massacre whole decades earlier makes him uneasy. It scares him. He wonders if this means things are now going to be worse than they already were, which is hard to imagine. He doesn’t want to imagine it.

He wishes he had more time. He doesn’t know when he will get to be like this with you again. It could feel like a matter of seconds, minutes, hours, days. He could wake up to a world where you and him don’t coincide. But at the end of the day, he needs to pull through for you and everyone else. His main priority is that he wakes up to a world where everyone is alive.

This is his last chance.

“Alright, we’ll get up and get stuff together.” Logan says, and with that Hank gets up with a nod.

As he makes his exit, Logan starts to get up, but not before he feels your arms wrapping around his torso trying to pull him back.

“Sweetheart, we need to get up,” Logan says softly, not wanting to disturb the peace in this room. Not wanting to unveil their reality.

“Just a few more minutes,” you wager. “I’ll freeze time if that means I can stay like this for a few more minutes.”

He can’t deny you. God, he can’t. He lays back down to his original state, and before he can help himself the words are out in the open.

“I love you.”

You didn’t respond, and that’s okay. He already knows you love him too.

The White House; Washington D.C.

“Yes, I am with the marine band.”

“You are late, Sergeant. Get into position with the others.”

“Yes sir!”

You move past the metal detectors, jogging towards the rest of the marine band members. There was an empty spot where the snare lies and you get into position, harness going over your shoulders. You fall into play, Stars and Stripes Forever sounding throughout the set up.

It’s perfect really. You are in the best position to see everything. You will be able to see Trask, the President, and other high ranking officials. If things fall into complete disarray, you will shift the time backward and have a complete do over. In the meantime, the guys will look for Raven before she can strike.

It was a string of luck thanks to Charles’s willingness to use his powers again. Hank had told you he had a change of heart, and while you had no proof of what convinced him, you had a feeling it had to do with the man who completely bared his soul to you last night.

Just the thought makes you blush. You aren’t one to let someone you barely know in your bed, giving yourself to them completely. You’ve been there, done that, and it never stuck or felt right. With Logan, it felt different. There is a bond between you both that’s inexplicably there. You have felt it from the start, and it was only confirmed after last night. The way he took care of you, made love to you; you could feel the love he felt for you and while scary to admit, you love him too.

He looks at you like you are the center of his universe. He looks at you like living isn’t worth shit unless you are by his side. It pains you but only because whatever happened in his future has scarred him deep. You could feel it in the way he kissed you, and left marks on your body. He was trying to convince himself that he wasn’t dreaming; that you were there.

You don’t know what will happen after today, but what you do know is you will find him. You will find him, learn every detail about him until he is like a second skin, and love him like he deserves. You will make sure of it.

You look towards the metal detectors and see them passing through. You see Logan look in your direction, a smile shining towards you that you mirror right back. He looks you up and down, sending a wink your way before turning back to Charles and once again your face feels hot. His effect on you is absolutely outstanding.

You can see Charles scanning the crowd, undoubtedly looking for Raven amongst the thousands of people. You keep your eyes on him, reading his expressions as he continues lurking. You aren’t sure what time it is but it’s only a matter of time before President Nixon makes his speech. Even then, that doesn’t mean Raven won’t strike before that.

“I haven’t found Raven yet. Be prepared.”

You felt Charles rattling in your brain. You look in his direction to see everyone looking towards you and you nod to signal the message was clear.

The conductor cuts off the song, signaling the event is about to start. You focus your attention to the stage, looking for any kind of sign of Raven. Everything seems pristine, Secret Service covered at every point.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” You hear someone speak through the microphone on the podium. Your attention goes to the man, someone from Nixon’s advisory team surely, standing before everyone. “It is my utmost pleasure to welcome Mr. President Nixon!”

You see the conductor wave his baton, signaling to start playing, and quickly you are rolling your sticks once the first beat drops. You watch, trying to look in your peripherals for anything weird, before you hear a gunshot.

Your eyes snap to the stage, and you see Trask lying there with a bullet to his head. People are losing their minds, standing erratically to get away from whoever the shooter was. You drop your drumsticks, quickly snapping your fingers to stop the commotion. Everything freezes, and you take the opportunity to walk away from your post. You make observations, needing to be quick, and it doesn’t take long for you to see Raven. Or at least make the assumption that it’s her.

You see she transformed into a man from the Secret Service. The gun has since been lowered and you can see two other Secret Service officials running to tackle. You walk to look at the man’s face, and it makes your lips purse slightly.

She is smiling. There is genuine joy in what she just did. Before time froze over, it was obvious she saw the other men coming to take her down, but she didn’t care. You see it in her face: she won. It didn’t matter what happened afterwards. She saved her kind, your kind.

Except she didn’t, and that’s what kills you as you look at her. Her actions kill so many, and leave so many people without their loved ones. Your future livelihood is dismantled by the Sentinels, so deep down you understand Raven’s hatred for Trask. You hate him too, but you believe all will come to the light. Trask will get his due diligence, and hopefully it’s something worse than death.

Humiliation. Defunding his work. Life behind bars. For a man like him, death would be too easy.

You pass her, heading towards the rest of the group. You get to Logan’s side, and release a breath you didn’t know you needed to release. You lift your arms up and move them down slowly. As they descend, time rolls back like it’s a moveable force. People that swarmed like ants are back in their seats, high security are back at their stations, the President makes his way back behind the stage, and Trask is back on his feet. Your hands clenched tight, holding everything in place before releasing and things continue on completely reset.

You lean down to Charles, making sure he hears you clearly. “She’s right there to the left of the stage. Act fast.”

Charles looks in that direction, focusing with an urgency as he sets his sights on Raven. You watch the scene unfold again, and see how Raven goes to pull the gun from her jacket but she halts. You see her grow stiff, and her lips move like she is talking to someone.

“I’ve got her,” Charles says with relief. “I can only hold her for so long.”

“You two go get her,” Hank says as he gets behind Charles. “He is right. Charles is still not as strong as he was before. You both need to be quick.”

You nod and the two of you start trekking over to where Raven is. The President is talking, but it’s muddled as you focus. The two of you walk slowly, but with urgency, not wanting to cause any alarm that would halt any progress. That didn’t matter, however, because right as you two are on her, a Secret Service agent is in front of you both.

“I’m sorry, but this is as far as you two can go.” He has his hands raised in front of him to prevent any further steps.

“Behold! The world will never be the same again…” The National Anthem kicks in, and you turn to see the American flag drop. What you see makes your jaw drop.

Eight large robots. They couldn’t be more than twenty feet tall. Hell, it looks like they could stomp the average person out. The sheer size of them makes you uneasy, knowing what they can and will do makes your stomach churn.

“Is that what they look like?” You say quietly, your back now pressed against Logan’s front.

“This is just the start.” Logan's right hand grabs yours, squeezing tightly. “But we can change that.”

You squeeze back just as tight, hoping it conveys that you are with him. “Let me stop the time so you can get her.” You go to snap your fingers, but Logan squeezes your hand again as if to hold off.

“What?”

“Do you hear that?” He yells over the cheers. “Something’s coming.”

Logan keeps looking around, and in his search is when you see something moving from the corner of your eye. You turn, and a lump starts forming in your throat.

“Good God…”

It is clockwork with how things evolved. The Sentinels, with their yellow eyes and shiny polymer, are no longer on their feet. They are in the air, carefully looking down on the crowd like they are Gods. They look so much bigger off the ground, and it unsettles you to no end.

You see Trask and the Major talking, a look of frustration on the scientist's face. It confuses you because he is the one that has control over the giants. However, your question is answered when the sun seems to go away and only shadows linger in the shape of a ring. Rubble and debris fall from the sky, and once you look up you couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

A whole fucking stadium. Rows and rows of seats and cement foundation floating in the sky. It moves over the White House like a storm, slowly but surely coming with impending coverage. It is only as the inner circle enters your vision that you see Erik, carrying the weight of it like it was nothing.

The Sentinels rise higher, going up towards the floating anomaly as it surrounds it. You think for a second that maybe they were activated because they detected the threat. However, as you watch them reach the top, taking places like they are guarding a post with arms drawn, you know it wasn’t anyone commanding them from the ground, but from the sky.

“Holy shit Erik…” you whisper to yourself, some disbelief edged into your voice. Erik was a powerful mutant, that you knew, but this? This was next level.

“I’m getting Raven!”

Before you can say anything, Logan is running to tackle Raven down, but it doesn't matter. The minute he is on his feet, bullets are raining from the sky in droves.

“Logan, get back!” You yell, running to pull him back before the mass array of bullets hit him.

“I’ll be fine! I can take them!” Logan yells over the madness of crowds flocking away. “We need to get her!”

“Look around!” You grab his shoulders, shaking them. “It doesn’t matter if we get her now. We need to get Erik and we can’t if we are both down!”

You don’t wait for him to answer, dragging him to rubble that had made its way to the ground. You look around it, trying to get eyes on Charles and Hank before the ground shakes. Logan has his arms around you, covering your body with his to protect it from any kind of blow.

It’s quiet for a moment as the dust settles. You peep out again, trying to locate the other two again. The field was a ghost town, the crowd able to escape before the stadium trapped them in. The President, Trask, and others were gone, assuming they went into some sort of hiding place that only they know about. It is only then that you realize Raven is no longer to be seen, which makes you think she went into hiding… with them.

“Oh no…”

“What?” Logan whispers, his eyes trained elsewhere.

“I think Raven is with Trask.”

“Unfortunately, I think we have a bigger fucking problem now.” Logan curses with eyes unmoving.

You look to see where he is staring, and you see Erik walking towards the White House before stopping. His hands go out in front of him, moving them like he is scanning for something.

You feel something in your mind move, and you gasp when you hear the voice in your head. “Charles?”

“My dear, we are running out of time.” You hear Charles echo in your head. “If you or Logan can get Erik’s helmet off of him, I can stop him.”

“Okay, on it.” You turn in Logan’s hold, back now against the rubble. “We need to get the helmet off him. I will stop time while you grab it.”

“Sounds easy enough,” Logan grunts, crouching in front of you.

“Alright, here we go.” You focus all your energy on your surroundings before snapping your fingers. Your fists are secured, and you look at Logan before nodding his way. “Go on.”

He goes to get up but stops for a second before coming back down. His lips are on yours, a long peck before releasing you. You’re stunned, not expecting such a romantic gesture. “I’ll be back for you, baby.”

He’s off, running towards Erik. You watch as he makes it up to him, carefully removing the helmet and putting it under his arm. He is on his way back, holding the helmet close as he gets back to where you stood. You both crouch back down, and you unclench your fists letting time continue its course.

“Charles, he’s all yours,” you say with the hope he can hear you.

It’s quiet for only a moment when you hear something heavy fall to the ground. You hear a yell, one that sounded exactly like Charles, and you shoot up. You see some particles in the air to your right, steel and concrete a heap on the ground. You see brown hair, and then you see Hank, fully in his true blue form, trying to lift the heavy weight off of Charles. Panic sets in, not really sure how bad the damage is but it stirs you to stand up and release the alarming catharsis that bubbles to the surface.

“Charles!” You scream, your fight or flight response taking the former as you run towards them. You sense Logan right behind you, following your trail as you approach the mess. You almost make it, ready to stop time again but then you feel something graze your arm and then a stretch of pain that takes you out.

You fall with a grunt, holding your left arm as you curse to yourself. Blood is making its way down your arm, and you work to put pressure on it but it continues to seep through the cracks of your fingers. Shit, shit, shit!

You hear more bullets go off towards you, and your heart is in your throat as you expect to be battered, but they don’t come. They don’t come because Logan is in front of you, body jerking as he works to pick you up as wounds form from his back.

“Holy shit, Logan!”

“Hold on!” He seethes in pain, holding you close as he gets you both behind another pile of rubble.

You both have your backs to the scene unfolding, but you know there isn’t much time to stay here. With haste, you unbuckle your belt, flinging it out of the jean loops and wrapping it below the bullet wound. Your teeth sink into the leather, pulling it tightly before securing it.

You look over at Logan, who is surrounded by the pellets he pushed out from his back. He grunts as one more falls to the ground behind him, and he turns to you with an alertness you’ve become all too familiar with.

“Are you okay?” You ask stupidly, because of course he is.

He doesn’t answer at first, looking at you and then looking back at the destroyed lawn. It causes you to look too, and you can see Hank clobbering one of the Sentinels as he yanks out its wiring. But he’s outnumbered and it’s only a matter of time before they gang up on him.

“We need to help Hank,” you say, getting ready to stand up before Logan’s hand grabs you by your jean loops.

Logan’s hands are on your face, holding it still as to keep your focus on him. There is conflict in the way he looks at you; a conflict that says you won’t agree with what he’s about to do next. You can read him so easily, and what you are reading makes you uneasy.

“No, Logan…”

“Sweetheart, I need you to stay right here.” His eyes are saying so much more in relation, telling you why he’s asking you this. You know he has lost too much, and to lose it all before it’s even started isn’t in the cards for him. Still, you can’t help the stubbornness that begs to fight with him.

“I’m not leaving you defenseless out there.”

“Then defend us from here,” Logan says firmly, mind unchanging. “I will not lose you here. I am not going back to a future where you don’t exist.”

It’s quiet for a second, words processing in your head. You knew he loved you, but to see it run so deep at his declaration made you want to cry. How is it a man that you haven’t known for long, can have such an effect on you? How is it that a part of him already runs so deeply inside you? It leaves you with the conclusion that if you are feeling all of this after a few days, then what he must be feeling is tenfold after a lifetime.

Your hands go to his face, mirroring him as you two stare at each other. He’s waiting for you to accept what he is asking, eyes moving back and forth slightly like he is trying to read your response. You sigh deeply, swallowing the pill he wants you to take before you pull him down to your lips to seal your acceptance.

He grunts in surprise, but shortly after melts against you. It’s a kiss molded into words, one that says “thank you” and in kind says “I’ll see you after this is all over”. It’s a kiss that says even when there truly is no time left, there is always time for this, for you, for him.

You pull away, eyes watering as you look at the man who will ultimately become your world and your savior in ways you can’t begin to fathom. You give him one more good look, one more stroke of your thumbs against his facial hair, before dropping your hands to surrender.

“You come back to me safe,” you assert. “I will do as much as I can from here.”

Logan responds by kissing your lips again, placing three quick kisses in succession before standing up to run off towards the mess. You peek over from your hiding spot, and you see two of the Sentinels on the ground in its robotic guts. You hear Hank roaring to your left, seeing him fly to the ground onto his back. The Sentinel he was fighting approaches, armed and ready to fire.

You clench your teeth as you put your arms out, the wounded one shooting signals to your brain that it aches terribly. However, you push through, focusing on the Sentinels mechanics and the timely energy around it. You watch it slowly come to a stop, and you see Hank look your way before you nod your head to tell him to get the job done.

You watch him spring into action, hands digging into the skull before ripping the head off. You let go, with the Sentinel now inactive, and turn to see Logan with his claws out digging into the chest of another one. His clawed fists go in and out over and over, the automaton down.

You go back and forth between Hank and Logan, ensuring them the time they need to defend themselves safely. It’s a smooth rhythm, and you think things are going well, but then you see Erik appear a few feet away from Logan with metal pieces floating in the air. You go to stop Erik in his tracks, but then you hear running in your direction.

“Run!” You hear Hank yell, and you turn to see him sprinting away from two Sentinels.

“Shit!” You curse, and in the blink of an eye you are running with him, bullets hot on your trail.

You run with purpose, dodging whatever the Sentinels sent your way, but your attention was focused on Logan, who was cutting away at any metallic pieces Erik threw at him. It was a dance, every step forward meant a step back, and from what you were witnessing Logan was the better dancer. However, Erik has always been good at catching up.

The Sentinels are gaining ground, and you knew something had to give. They were doing what they were created for, and they wouldn’t stop now, not at this rate. You look at Hank as you both push on, and he looks back at you as he feels your eyes on him.

“We need to split off!” You yell at him. “You go towards that car over there, and I’ll go the opposite way.”

You both diverge, running away from one another in the hopes of confusing the Sentinels. You don’t hear bullets in your space anymore, but it causes you to look and see Hank surrounded. You go to stop them, but then a gasp shoots from your lungs as you feel metal wrap around your wrists. Next thing you know, you are hanging in the air.

You are thrashing, wrists bound tightly. You see Erik approaching you, and you panic but not because he is approaching you. It’s because you don’t see Logan.

Fuck, where’s Logan?

“I’m sorry, my little timelord,” Erik says with a hint of an actual apology. “This is what happens when you don’t choose a side.”

“I did what was best for me. No one else,” you grit out. You can feel blood start to trickle down your arm, the stretch opening your wound further.

“I guess you’ll see how that turns out for you.” Erik sets you onto the ground with a thud, and suddenly you feel metal coil around your neck. You start to feel the pressure against your throat, making your eyes bulge.

“No need to be scared, my dear. Just need you out of the picture for a few hours.” Your airways are getting crushed. Your hands are desperately trying to remove themselves from the makeshift cuffs, but to no avail.

The coughing fits start, lungs eager for some relief, but they cry out when none comes. It’s strange to feel your lifespan waning, yet have your mind linger elsewhere.

Please be okay. God, please let Logan be safe.

As if your prayers were answered, you hear him in the distance. You can hear him shouting your name, and you ache at the sound. You are relieved, yet there is a sadness that sticks in your foggy brain. It almost makes you think that soul bonding is an actual force within the universe because you can tell what he is feeling. You can tell he feels like he is witnessing your death a second time.

The bondage of metal weakens, air filling your lungs at full capacity. Your hands automatically go to your throat, rubbing the raw skin as you inhale and exhale. Your bearings are dispersed, and you work to gather all the pieces so you can see what is happening. It isn’t until you hear Logan yelling in pain, followed by grunts that rip from his gut, that you shoot up. Your eyes focus and what you see burns your chest as you let out a scream that processes faster than your mind can.

Metal rods pierce Logan’s body, curling into his legs and up his chest. They enter and exit like thread, and his facial expression is one of agony. His head turns towards you, his eyes screaming for you to look away and to run and never look back. However, your fears, your anger, your love for him is overcoming and it doesn’t take long for you to snap.

Your body screams as you move to your knees and throw your arms up, the aches telling you to stop wearing yourself further. Your power is straining, but your emotions are fueling the fire. No amount of pain will ever amount to the pain of losing Logan.

You slam your fists to the ground, a ricochet from the impact spreading. Time stops in motion, the waves of your power spreading and catching everything in its wake. The pain increases, but you don’t care about that. You only care about Logan.

Everything is still aside from Logan’s body shakes. You run to him, falling to your knees to get closer. Your energy is depleting as you hold onto time, making your mind race to figure out what to do to help him. Your hands keep going to touch the rods, but back away every time he shudders with discomfort.

“Logan, tell me what to do,” you plead. “Tell me what I need to do to get these out.”

“Fuck…” Logan is working his jaw, seemingly trying to calm himself down. “Try pulling on one.”

You nod, placing both hands on a rod buried in his back. You counted down from three, and with a deep breath you pulled as hard as you could. The second Logan started yelling though, you let go.

“Shit! Please stop!” Logan shouts, the metal rods excruciating.

“Logan, we need to get these out of you please.” You were starting to sob; your hands running over his neck and face to try and soothe him.

“Sweetheart, please,” Logan grunts, trying not to move too much. “I promise you this won’t kill me.”

“But you are suffering,” you whisper, tears staining your face as new ones form. “I can hold this just please. You have to push them out or something.”

Something changes in Logan’s face, a sense of realization as you watch his eyes widen. A broken laugh leaves his lips, eyes glossing. “I finally understand.”

“W-what?” You stutter.

“I desperately wanted to save you, and I couldn’t. You had begged me not to, and I couldn’t fathom it.” He starts to cough, groans filling the cracks. “But I understand now. I’m sorry for not understanding before.”

“Please don’t,” you choke. “That doesn’t matter. What matters now is getting these out of you.”

Your hands go to the rods again, but his hand grabs yours before you make contact. You are sure you look pitiful, especially as you aren’t one to beg. You guess when feelings get so strong, it doesn’t matter. Your heart is fully on your sleeve for Logan to see, and what you are showing is reflected in his pretty, glossy, hazel eyes.

“I need you to promise me something, sweetheart,” Logan says gently. “I need you to promise me that you will find me.”

“Where? Where will I find you?” Your voice wavers, unable to keep your emotions at bay.

“You know I can’t say, baby.” Logan’s hand squeezes yours, trying to be reassuring. “But you have before. I know you will find me again.”

You don’t know what to think of that. It could be years before you find him. Will it be right before the world goes to shit? Will it be in a decade or two from now? How can you go on living your life as normal when you don’t know when you will find him? Or how can you live knowing he isn’t right beside you?

“Don’t overthink this. Everything will be okay.”

You sniffle as you look at him, a tired smile on his face. A small laugh passes through your sobs. “Not very in character for you to be optimistic.”

“And it will be the last time you see me so optimistic for a long time,” Logan smirks. “But you can change that.”

You get on your stomach, moving so your face is level with his and kiss him one last time. It’s bittersweet, tasting him on your tongue. You hope you are conveying the answer he is looking for, one that tells him you promise to move heaven and earth for him. One that tells him you promise you are his, and no one will ever have you for as long as you both live. A promise that tells him you will find your way home to him, and you will bring him home to you.

You let go, breath wavering as you know what you are about to witness. Even with his reassurance, it will be hard to watch, and you know the tears will fall. It is inevitable.

“Baby, go find Charles. Make sure he is okay and stick with him. Once you find him, let me go.”

You nod, pecking his lips one more time before getting up to your feet. You look at him, taking in every detail that imprints your memory, making sure to never forget that the man before you is your soulmate for life.

“I love you, Logan.” You say with teary eyes.

“I love you. I’ll see you soon.” He smiles, before closing his eyes, preparing himself.

You quickly run off, afraid that if you didn’t you wouldn’t allow yourself to. You run over to the giant terrain of rubble where Charles was, and you see him lying there frozen like everything else. You maneuver into his spot, a tight fit with enough room for you to situate yourself. You look back out onto the field, and you quiver as you see Logan lying there just waiting as he suffers in pain. You look down, eyes squeezing tight before you snap your fingers, a heavy weight off your shoulders as you suck in a deep breath.

“Oh darling, when did you get in here?”

You open your eyes to see Charles, breathing heavier than usual as he lays in discomfort. You work to prop him up, holding onto him so he can sit up right. It is at that moment you hear yelling, and you look back out to see Logan in the air with Erik holding his metallic weight. You want to look away, unable to bear the sight, but they stay glued to them. Then, you see Erik flex his fingers.

As you watch Logan fly away, your lungs urge a cry to curl out into the atmosphere, but you suppress it. After everything, you have faith in him. He gave you the faith you needed to believe everything will turn out alright. Even as you watch Erik yank the bunker up from the ground and out the White House, you have faith that the future will be safe, because you won’t let Logan down. You have a promise to keep.

Logan has become your Orion; your guiding star. He has become your alpha and your omega. He is your sole mission in this life, and he is not a mission you plan to fail.

You will set things right, and you will find him.

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters; Westchester, NY; Year 2023

The first time ever I saw your face…

Music. Soft, calming music enters his conscience. He’s heard this melody before in the same fashion, but that was forever ago, right?

I thought the sun rose in your eyes…

Logan stirs, his brain doing a leap and a jump from REM sleep as it tries to wake up. He has lived this moment before, as the music says he has. Is he back to where he started? Or is it something else?

And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave…

Where is he? The last thing he remembers was drowning. Metal pierced his body so deep he could taste it with freshwater. It should linger, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t taste anything abnormal. He’s on a bed. Did someone save him? Whose bed is this?

To the dark and the endless skies…

His eyes open, sunlight shining brightly as they adjust. The room is familiar, and it dawns on him that it’s because it is his room. Their room.

He turns to his side slowly, his body still adjusting to whatever the fuck it was he’s waking up to. He sees the little radio on the bedside table, the holographic globe spinning as the words “Golden Oldies” glide around it.

And the first time ever I kissed your mouth…

Holy shit… he did it.

Suddenly, the door opens, and nothing could have prepared him.

“Hey, sleepyhead!”

There you were in all your glory. You were dressed for the day: a tight and long black velvet skirt with a short black sleeve shirt and black combat boots. There are little crow's feet and bunny lines by your eyes and your hair has grown out. He is starstruck, and his heart is threatening to leap out of his chest.

You walked up to him, your legs touching the bed as you looked down at him. “I know I look good. No need to let the flies in.”

Logan shuts his mouth, moving to sit up. There are so many things he wants to say, do. But nothing will come out. All he can do is stare and bumble like an idiot.

“You know it’s nine, right? You missed your first class.”

His class?

“What?”

“Don’t worry, Lo. Your students got a little lesson from me about 70s music culture, so they weren’t totally out of a history lesson.” You say with a wink.

He doesn’t respond, eyes mesmerized as you walk over to the desk, putting away folders from what he assumes was the previous class.

“Can you believe these kids know nothing about the Ramones? Or even ELO or Fleetwood Mac? It’s blasphemous.” You shut the drawer, and go to lean back against the desk, smiling at him.

“I’ll get up, baby. Don’t you worry about me.” You say in a mock deep voice, pushing yourself off the furniture. “Last night must have really worn you out for you to sleep like the dead.”

You are giggling and Logan is on edge. You are here. You are alive. He was hopeful that would be the case, but to see everything come to fruition was a lot to process.

“Lo, baby, are you okay?” You are in front of him, moving in between his legs.

He can’t help himself. He has his arms around your thighs, pulling you onto his lap. His hand secures itself at the nape of your neck, bringing your head down to his so his lips can intercept yours. Your skirt has ridden up, scrunching up at your ass giving Logan the chance to mold his hand into the flesh. He kisses you with ferocity, needing everything from you.

“Logan,” you laughed between his kisses. “I can’t believe you want to go again after last night, you dog.”

“You’re here,” Logan groans against your lips. “My baby, you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here. Why wouldn’t I be?” Your hands scratch his head, and he simpers as his mouth attaches to your neck, sniffing your pulse point as he keeps you firmly against him. You smell so good, so much so he wants to soak you into his skin.

“You are acting so strange right now, baby. Are you sure everything is okay?”

Logan lays his head against your chest, listening to your heart flutter away. He could cry listening to it, the comforting sound creating a lullaby that will lull his sore head to rest. It’s different hearing it now, knowing that when he wakes up once more, you will be here. You will be by his side when he goes to sleep at night, and when he wakes up. He will share every sunset and sunrise with you, something he will never take for granted for even a second.

He feels your hands cradling his head, keeping it steady as he starts to rock you in his arms. “What are you thinking, Lo?”

He lifts his head to look at you, your eyes full of warmth. You are looking at him with such patience and poise. Your hands are still on his head, and he goes to move them to his temples.

“Shift my mind.”

“Logan,” you say, taken aback and unsure but he quells your worry with another slow kiss.

“Trust me,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I need you to understand what I am feeling right now.”

He shuts his eyes, hoping you will indulge him and he smiles when he feels the warmth at his temples spread. He thought his mind going back to his last memory of drowning would cause panic, but he is calm. Maybe it’s because you are able to keep him afloat as you rewind what played out.

It is short lived, but soon he feels your hands go down to the scruff of his facial hair. He opens his eyes and he sees the tears welling in your eyes with a smile.

“My God, you did it. You remember,” you choked out. Logan can’t help but smother your lips again before kissing your tears away.

“You did a lot of the heavy lifting, sweetheart.” Logan chuckles against your skin. “But most importantly,” he pulls away, hands going to your face to make sure you understand how sincere he is. “You found me. Just like you promised me.”

“I said I would,” you say through tears. “I was determined to find you. To share this life with you.”

This life. A life with all the good things and even the bad ones. A life that he gets to live with you. This new life: a second chance. With this second chance, he isn’t going to waste it.

“Close your eyes,” Logan says with a peck.

You shut them, and he carefully sets you on the bed for him to stand up. He rushes to the bookshelf, hoping that in this new timeline he was smart enough to have gotten the one thing that showed complete and utter devotion. Even more so, he hopes he hid it where he originally had.

He finds the royal blue spine, pulling it out to open to the first few pages before the hole within the book is revealed. His lips turn with a quiver, seeing the ring just as it was before. He picks it up, holding it out in the sunlight to watch the diamond sparkle and the gold ban shine. It’s simple but you were never one for extravagant things. After a life of running free, you wanted the simple life and that is exactly what he will give you.

He walks back around the bed, getting on his knees to settle between your legs as he spreads them. Your skirt rode up again and he can’t help but kiss your left thigh and give the other a squeeze. The sweetest noise comes from you, and it only makes him nip at the skin.

“God, you are such a tease.”

“I can’t resist,” he hums before lifting his head. He holds out the ring and with care takes your left hand in his right.

“Go ahead and open those pretty eyes for me.”

He watches your eyes flutter open, a gasp falling from your lips when your eyes fall onto his palm. Your fingers instinctively went to it, and Logan held it more towards you to let them grace the ring.

“I’ve thought about how I’ve wanted to do this so many times,” Logan starts. “So much so that I pushed it off until it was too late. I will not make that same mistake twice.”

“Logan,” you say with your fingers trailing to his face, as if telling him nothing is his fault. He knows.

“I know I have so much to catch up on and learn. There will be things I am not aware of. You may be different, and I may be different,” He takes the ring and your left hand, holding it near but not quite enacting the officiality. “But the one thing that will never change is how you will always be at the forefront of my mind because I am nothing without you. At the end of the day, I want to come home to you as your husband and you as my wife if you will have me.”

This is such a vulnerable moment, and there was a time where it would eat him up alive. However, being right here with you, proposing to you in this shared room under the light of the morning, encourages him like nothing else. Vulnerability with you gives him strength.

You are biting your lip, eyes watering again as you nod your head profusely. “Put that ring on my finger, handsome.”

He slides the ring onto your ring finger, settling into place perfectly. You held it up, and he watched as you admired the piece, the sparkle of the diamond reflecting in your eyes. It sparks you to look back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and he notices you shift until your lower body pushes him onto the floor. Your arms bring him in, his head meeting yours as lips reconnect once more.

“I love you so much, Logan. I am truly the luckiest woman alive.”

All he can think is if you were the luckiest woman, then he is the luckiest man. One decision could have led to a world in which you didn’t exist or one where you two would just be specks living completely different lives. To have woken up in a new world, one that’s more promising, is luck after the hell he had experienced. Having you here in his lap, kissing him like he is the center of your universe, makes him weep with joy.

You are his world, and in this new life, rather than the world stopping, it continues to spin forward.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett angst #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #logan howlett fic #logan smut #logan angst #logan fic #x-men fic #my fics

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imyourbratzdoll · 9 months ago

Note

I crave a good fluffy fic with wolverine, his wife is a badass and when someone threatens him she loses her shit and kicks their ass🫡 with so much disrespect.

hey baby, I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you enjoy what I did, it's a bit more violent than you probably wanted.

summary - a dumb 'bad guy' lures you and your husband out, things take an escalated turn when he threatens your husband.

warning - SUPER violent, like extreme level probably, swearing, mentions of sex, dude talks of touching what's his but nothing triggering, dick and balls suffer rip.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You couldn’t believe this guy, he was really threatening your husband right in front of you. Thinking he was all tough because he could throw fire or some shit? You didn’t know what he could do, except talk a lot of shit. That was probably his power. What was his name again? Captain Talks Shit? Shits A lot? Little Fucker? Who cares, all you care about right now is that he’s threatening your man.

You walk out of the shadows, having heard enough because honestly. Why do the bad guys always talk for so long? Have none of them realised or picked up from past bad guys mistakes? It was tiring and a waste of your time because you and Logan could’ve been gone by now, screwing each other silly, probably somewhere extremely risky. But, noooo. You had to listen to this jackass.

“Listen, dick licker. If you don’t stop threatening my fucking husband. I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with it.” You growl, moving to stand in front of Logan. (Sure, he would have protected himself and it may look weak to the other guy that a woman is standing in front of an extremely large man, in more ways than one, wink wink. But you happen to know that this turns your husband on and who are you to deny him his fantasies?)

“Is that a threat?” Captain Dipshit sneers.

“Did it sound like a fucking compliment, Princess?” You watch as he eyes you, sizing you up and in his mind he’s probably thinking ‘yeah, I can take this chick.’ You hope his ego deflates before you kill him.

“Listen, Babe. This is between us men, now why don’t you run along and go make us a sandwich or something. Maybe put on some cute lingerie and wait for me in the bedroom ‘cause once I’m done with your husband here. You’ll be creamin’ around me.”

Logan shakes his head, stepping way back. He remembered when he accidentally said something similar and he was in a coma for a whole month, not even his fast healing could help him.

It was like a switch turning on, the beast that lived within you had been released from its cage and not even God could save this man now. You stalked towards him, he still smirked thinking he was safe. You jump, wrapping your legs around his neck and twisting, bringing him down using a move your good friend Natasha had taught you. You move swiftly while he is down, sending a harsh kick to his face, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose and possibly jaw breaking. You grab him by his hair and lift him, a large grin covering your face as you bring him eye level with you.

“You wanna repeat that, Princess?” You bring him closer, whispering in his ear. “How bout you go make me a sandwich, put on a cute set and I’ll bash your dick in with a baseball bat. How do ya like the sound of that? Cause I love it.”

He struggles within your grip, trying to swing at you but with your other hand that isn’t gripping his hair. You snap his arms, relishing in the sound of bones breaking. His screams echo the warehouse, dumbarse had lured us in here without a backup plan or backup.

You let go of your grip on his hair, immediately switching to gripping his throat instead. “You don’t like my plan, Princess? Rethinking the whole thing? Cause ya already pissed me off by threatening the man I love, but then you had the balls to say THAT? Tell me, Princess. Just between us girls. Did mummy not give you any hugs as a kid? Cause how did you think this was gonna go? You could’ve ‘killed’ the Wolverine, but he wouldn’t have stayed dead. No. But if he heard you touching me, touching what’s HIS. He would’ve torn you to shreds, but slowly. Very slowly. It’s what makes me love him.” You pat the man’s cheek, grinning as he winces.

“How bout an apology and I won’t kill you.”

“F–fuck you.” He spits at you, SPITS. Not even clear fucking spit, this shit has blood in it. You lift your hand, wiping the spit with the back of it and then onto his clothes.

Your face screwed up. “Well, that was stupid.” With quick movements, you throw him, watching him crash into a wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Your hand reaches out and a bat flies into it. “You’re not wearing that cute set and I don’t have a sandwich, but this will do.” He tries to shuffle away, his eyes wide. You stalk toward him and swing, smashing his dick and balls with one hit. Think Superman merged with Hulk strength, how do you think his twig and berries did?

A scream rips out of his mouth before his eyes roll back and he falls backwards. You frown and poke him with your bat. “Hey mista, you dead?” You look at Logan, “Bitch passed out.” He shakes his head at the pout on your lips.

He walks over and places a kiss on your head, “C’mon, let’s go home now or better yet. You ready to do something real risky, Sweets.” Your eyes light up.

“Do you mean…?!”

Logan nods, smirking. “I’ll finally let you fuck me while I drive.” Your squeals escape as you jump into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for!” And with that, Logan carries you out as you stare at him dreamily.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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forsworned · 11 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋFORSWORNED'S CALL OF DUTY MASTERLISTˎˊ˗

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Simon has an onlyfans pt.1 (nsfw)

Simon has an onlyfans pt. 2 (nsfw)

Admiration

It's (not) just sex (nsfw)

Romantic

Baby makin' (nsfw)

Use your heart (nsfw)

Let me hear you (nsfw)

Blow out all the candles (nsfw)

Hush, don't think you've made it under my skin (nsfw)

drabbles:

Four-leafed clover (nsfw themes)

Family affair

Hot and bothered (nsfw)

Predator and prey (nsfw)

Soft (nsfw)

Like a tattoo

JOHNNY 'SOAP' MACTAVISH

Sexy stretching (nsfw)

Casual (nsfw)

drabbles:

So wrong (nsfw)

Johnny can't help but overhear the conversation you're having with Kyle about your hook-up gone wrong...

✯ SAVING SERGEANT MACTAVISH

𝗌𝗒𝗉𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗌: 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒'𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝖼𝖾𝖾𝖽?

⤷ KNOCKING AT DEATH'S DOOR

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK

Jinx! you owe me a soda (nsfw)

Breach of privacy (slight nsfw)

The Penitent (nsfw)

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

Sweet nectar (nsfw)

EPISODIC POLY!TF141 SERIES

Failed mission blues

Bumblin' fool

Crazy cat lady

Coddling

Favorite

Tears and taunting

Espresso many feelings

Y/n loses a bet

Dream blunt rotation

Androgynous y/n

KEEGAN RUSS

I wanna take a read on your disco stick (nsfw)

Something good can work (nsfw)

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER

Dirty little daydreams (nsfw)

Passenger seat lovers (nsfw)

Munch (nsfw)

No pictures, please!

No one noticed (nsfw)

LOGAN WALKER

Crush (ft. bluecollarworker!logan) (nsfw)

I always feel like somebody's watching me (nsfw)

Like father like daughter

Like father like daughter pt.2

ELIAS WALKER

God knows I tried (nsfw)

HEADCANONS

HOW THEY WOULD REACT TO...

⤷ "Hey guys, I'm with my boyfriend, ____" trend. ft. TF141

Keegan despises new age slang ft. Kick and Merrick

Divorcee Hesh

What if you and Johnny were so close... (nsfw??)

I feel like if the boys didn't join the army they'd all be blue-collar workers...

Johnny definitely gets turned on when you grab his ass...

INCORRECT COD QUOTES

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darnell-la · 4 months ago

Note

i’m actually so in love with your writing! Could i request Oldman!Logan x married reader having sex for the first time in forever bc he’s getting sick and age is showing in him and he isn’t healing but he wants to prove he can still keep up

note: Logan and his little emotional ass…

———

“Logan, what are you doing here? What happened!?” Y/n asked, worried after seeing his state. The man had bullet holes in him. He was bleeding and looked like he was close to passing out.

“Need you, bub,” Logan said, meaning it in so many different ways, but y/n only thought of one as she pulled him into her shared house.

Y/n dragged the man to her shared room and pulled him to the bathroom. “The fuck, Logan — I thought you were done with that shit,” y/n felt horrible seeing him like this.

He went down after she broke up with him because of his unemotional ways. He didn’t show emotion when she left the mansion, but people noticed the change in his mood.

Logan was always an asshole, but he had a soft spot for sweet people. After y/n left, he felt no need to be that man anymore.

“Just a little fight. Nothin’ serious, princess,” Logan said as y/n sat him on the toilet. “Logan, not right now, please,” Y/n said before she went into her closet to find things to help him.

Logan was confused for a second, wondering why she didn’t like the nickname until he remembered. He took a look at her hand and noticed the ring he prayed wasn’t real.

After hearing the news of her marriage, he couldn’t take it. He tried reaching out to her, but she was a ghost.

After finally finding her, he noticed how happy she looked. That was decades ago, and since then, he’s just kept his distance. Still watching her, but never approaching.

“You’re still with him, huh?” Logan asked, sounding heartbroken all over again. “Yes, I am, and he gets home tomorrow night, so I need you out of here quick,” y/n said, aching the man.

“Can’t stay until he gets here? Maybe meet the man or something?” Logan asked, making y/n sigh loudly as she finally found what she needed. “No, Logan — Me and you haven’t talked in years, so there’s no need,”

“We haven’t talked because of you,” the man said in a low voice. “Yeah, because-“ y/n cut herself off as she noticed her tone getting higher. She shouldn’t be upset anymore. They’re done.

“Just- Let’s get you cleaned up,” y/n walked back over to Logan. The two stayed quiet as she took his shirt off to see what she had to work with. “Fuckin’ hell, Logan,” y/n shooter her head.

Even though this wasn’t the man’s fault, he looked down with a sad look, disappointed that he got worse over the years, and never better for her to see and maybe want him back.

“He treats you good?” Logan asked, trying to get rid of the silence. It’s been too many years of silence. “Alright,” y/n said, answering drily because she felt embarrassed about her life.

“Why just alright? I see he buys you stuff- On social media — I-I have you on social media,” Logan saved himself after y/n gave him a confused look. Y/n sighed with a nod, not wanting to tell him or anyone why he gave her those gifts.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Logan asked with a slightly serious face after noticing her body language. After all these years, Logan could tell when something was wrong.

“Please, just- Let’s get this done, okay?” Y/n said before using a pair of tweezers to pull one of the bullets out. “Fuck! Fuck- wait,” Logan softly grabbed the girl's wrists as he stood up. “I’ve got this part,”

Logan slowly walked over to the bathroom sink to lean on it, resting and taking deep breaths for what he was about to do.

Y/n was confused until the man began pushing out bullets with low groans, trying to hide the pain he was in.

Y/n placed a hand on his back, comforting him so he would mentally feel better about this all. She couldn’t look at him like this.

“Just a few stitches, okay?” Y/n rubbed the man’s back after he got all of the bullets out. “No, it’ll heal itself. Just need it cleaned,” the man said before sitting back down on the toilet, already missing her back touched.

y/n wanted to ask why he came here if he wouldn't help him stitch up, but she kept her mouth closed and didn't ask. He finally had a small reason to show up and be let in her house.

“Lo — Logan, you need it,” y/n slipped up by calling him by the nickname she gave the man. Logan looked up at the woman, eyes lighting up at her words, but face expression tired.

He was tired of life. He was tired of living without y/n. He was tired of being distant from y/n. He was tired of going home and having an empty bed while she came home to whoever the man was she married.

“I need you,” Logan said, making y/n scoff, feeling tears fill her eyes in an instant. “Logan, if you’re not gonna let me help you, then you have to leave,” she hated saying.

“C’mon, baby — Just take me back,” Logan on off of the toilet and stepped towards her. Y/n instantly turned around, not wanting to look at him. She can’t. She’s married now.

“C’mere,” Logan said softly as he hugged y/n from the back, leaning down to sniff her neck. “You still smell good,” he said under his breath as his hands rubbed her waist and stomach.

“Logan, I can’t,” y/n said, not pushing him off, but hoping he’d pull back. She couldn’t bring herself to push his old but missing scent away.

“C’mon, baby — If you couldn’t, then you would’ve pushed him off a while ago,” he said, and he was right. That’s when y/n turned around and placed her hands on his chest, pushing, but he grabbed them, keeping her hands on him.

“I’m sorry, y/n — I wasn’t good back then, but I am now. I’ll do anything to get you back. To get all of those years without you, back,” Logan’s hands softly grabbed her cheeks.

“I-I can’t, Logan — I have a husband, and he- He treats me right,” y/n lied, and he knew it instantly. All the years away from his girl, he still knew when she was lying and not doing well. Her slight body language change does not lie.

“You don’t have to lie to me, princess. If he doesn’t treat you right, I won’t laugh, judge or make you feel like shit,” Logan said as tears slipped past her eyelids.

“Hey, hey — Don’t cry, okay? This is my fault. You’re with him because I wasn’t man enough to deal with love. I was scared, and I let us get together knowing I should’ve ghosted you. I should’ve fuckin’ stopped it right then, but I didn’t because I love you, y/n,”

“I’m so stupid,” y/n buried her face in the man’s chest as she cried. Logan’s own tears slipped past his eyelids, hearing y/n cry like this after all of these years.

If only he had been a better man, a better boyfriend, she wouldn’t be like this. What has she been going through, through all these years? Anything negative was his fault. All of it.

“Baby, no, you’re not. I am. If I just did better, you’d be with me. We’d both be happier,” Logan pulled y/n’s face back as he wiped her tears. “Need you to stitch me up like you wanted. Take care of me, then I’ll take care of you. Till the day I die,”

Y/n isn’t invincible, but she does take a bit longer to die off. She’s nothing like Logan though, so getting together at this time, especially since his regenerating powers aren’t working well anymore, is perfect.

“Mhmkay,” y/n said low, feeling her heart grow for the man again. “Please stop crying, baby. Gonna make me feel bad,” Logan playfully pouted as he lifted her chin. “Good,” she giggled low.

“So good, baby. Always so fuckin’ good, baby,” Logan whispered in the girl's ear after slipping past her folds, filling her up until he had no more to give. She took him so well. Like they have not stopped being together.

“Oh my god, Logan,” y/n cried as she scratched his back, drawing a little blood. He almost forgot how strong she was. He never really paid attention. She was always his sweet little girl.

He cursed himself for being an asshole towards her. All he had to do was tell her when he felt down. All he had to do was ask for help. All he had to do was accept that it’s okay to not be okay. She would’ve been happy to help.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Gonna take you from your sad excuse of a husband,” Logan snapped his hips, shaking at the feeling of being someone he hadn’t been in for years. Since her, he hasn’t been with anyone. Not one soul.

“Ima treat you better, baby. Gonna show him how to be a man,” Logan didn’t know how the man was. He knew nothing about him, only the fake news he puts out on social media, but by the way, y/n was clenching around him and not calling her husband to get Logan out of their home, he knew the man was a dick.

“You’re gonna tell me everything about him, y/n. Don’t miss one detail. Gonna show him what happens when he makes my girl cry at the thought of him,”

Logan’s hands rubbed y/n’s cheek, watching her jaw go slack as his hips bucked up into his, chasing after her orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Forgot about that rich prick. Knew he wasn’t no good,” Logan talked like he knew the man personally. Even if he wasn’t a bad person, Logan didn’t care. Y/n was his, and his only.

“Fuckin’ hell — Still squeezin’ me tight like back in the day, when you cum,” Logan reminded the woman as she came all over his cock. “So pretty when you did it too. Now you look better because we’re finally officially,”

Y/n was confused at first until he spoke. “You’re my wife. And I’m your husband. You’ve always been mine, and I’ll show you that. Gonna show you all the years you’ve missed out on me, baby,”

Logan smashed his lips onto y/n’s, hungrily kissing her as he pounded, making sure to fuck her into the mattress. He was old, and his body ached, but the adrenaline was still there. He wanted to fuck her for hours. Mark her for hours. He wanted to do everything with her for hours until her shitty husband came back to the sight of her taking his cock better than she could ever take her husbands.

“That’s it, baby — Gonna fill this little girl up like I should’ve done years ago. Trap you with me and never let you go,” Logan’s hands found hers and locked. He pinned them beside her head and leaned into her neck, sucking as he groan.

The man couldn’t help himself, sniffing and growling into the girl's neck as he spilled into her, hard. Cumming so deep, she swore she felt it swirl in her stomach.

“F-Fuck,” y/n cried low, feeling complete. The feeling of him in her, marking her, and telling her she was his, made her heart grow. Fuck her husband. She couldn’t wait until he came home to the sight of Logan claiming her.

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imaginedisish · 4 months ago

Text

Night Shift (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, time to cry everyone! This took so long. Simply imagine protective!Logan comforting you after a nightmare. Now we're all sobbing, right? Cool. Using "Night Shift" by Lucy Dacus at the title, but def more inspired by "I Wanna Be Yours" by Arctic Monkeys. Enjoy guys!

Summary: Logan hears you having a nightmare while pacing through the mansion, and is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! SMUT! Dry humping, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), cockwarming, servicedom!Logan vibes, softdom!Logan, soft!Logan, non-sexual intimacy to sexual intimacy, protective!Logan, possessive!Logan, feelings, fluff, allusions to death/violence, angst, hurt to comfort, friends to lovers, nightmares, afab!reader/f!reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it!

Word Count: 4,447 this was supposed to be short lol

Logan is the only one awake. He is always the only one awake at this hour—plagued by his inability to sleep. He walks down the halls, pacing around the mansion. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been walking past your door the most—he’s not a creep, he’s just protective. It feels good to hear the sound of your breathing with his heightened senses; feels good to know that you’re safe on the other side of the door.

He walks down your hallway for the fourth time tonight, stopping in front of your door. He expects to hear nothing save for your soft, rhythmic breathing. But he’s met with something else this time, and his heart immediately drops.

He listens as panicked grunts fall from your lips. He puts his ear to the door. He can smell your sweat. He can hear your heart beating rapidly. And then you grunt again—sounding more like a yelp this time. He can feel your fear as if it’s his own. Something is wrong.

He knocks on the door. “You okay?” He calls, but you don’t answer. He knocks again. “Princess?” All he can hear on the other side of the door are your groans, growing louder, and the shuffling of sheets. “I’m coming in,” he says, twisting the knob and pushing the door open.

He sees you in the center of your bed, moonlight pushing through your curtains and illuminating your body. He rushes over to you. You’re writhing, your head tossing from side to side. It’s just a nightmare, but the sight of you in pain—the sight of you struggling—it hurts him. He wants to pull you into his chest and kiss the pain away. But he resolves himself to simply waking you up—to doing the friendly, platonic thing.

He rushes to the side of your bed and pulls the covers down, instantly struggling to ignore that you’re sleeping in only a skimpy tank top and panties. He’s no better, wearing just his boxers. He feels like he’s crossing a line; he’s certainly seeing something he shouldn’t be. But he knows you need him, and that outweighs everything.

He gently grabs your shoulders and shakes softly. “Wake up, sweetheart,” he says, his voice a shot in the darkness.

You whisper a please in your sleep, your brows furrowing in agony. “D-don’t hurt him,” you mutter, your eyes shut tight.

Logan shakes harder this time. “Come on, darlin’,” he coaches, his voice louder now. “Wake up for me, please.” You whimper in response, eyes still closed. Tears stream down your cheeks. He wants to wipe them dry, to kiss the lines of tears that stain your skin.

“Logan,” you cry, and he thinks maybe you’re waking up. But you’re still trembling underneath him, your chest heaving, your eyes closed under those furrowed brows that make his heart hurt. He climbs into the bed, straddling you, his hands on your shoulders.

“Wake up, darlin’, please,” he tries again, shaking you harder. And this time it works—your eyes flutter open.

You feel relief at the sight of Logan. You can feel him on top of you—solid, warm. Alive. You had dreamed that he died…in your arms.

“You’re okay,” he soothes, his arms wrapping around your back, pulling you tightly against him. You bury your face into his chest, folding into him, his fingertips trailing up and down your back. “It was just a nightmare.”

“I’m so sorry,” you shudder, tears streaming down your face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Logan hushes you, cradling you, gently rocking you back and forth. “Didn’t wake me, pretty girl, don’t apologize.” He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. “Just relax, I’ve got you.”

You feel slightly embarrassed, being held like a child. But the feeling doesn’t last long—the comfort of Logan’s arms around you outweighs the guilt you feel for being a burden on him. All that melts away as you lean into his touch, his lips peppering kisses to the side of your head. You feel safe, protected, like nothing can touch you.

“What was the dream about?” He asks, his voice quiet in the darkness.

You sniffle, your head aching as visions of your dream drag painfully through your head. “Lost you,” you murmur, and it’s all you can manage to say. The rest hurts too much to remember.

“You didn’t lose me,” Logan whispers. “I’m still here.” You sob into his chest, his words lulling the pain. He pulls you under the covers, rolling over so that you’re on top of him, and he’s resting against the headboard. “I’m gonna stay with you, okay?”

“Please,” you choke. “Don’t go. Don’t leave.” It breaks Logan’s heart—splits him in two, hearing you like this. He knows what this feels like—knows how real nightmares can be. He wants to take your pain away, to take it on himself and feel it for you. He’d do anything to make you feel good—to make you feel whole again.

“You don’t have to beg, darlin’,” he coos, squeezing you tightly against his bare chest, hoping the heaviness of his arms around your body feels relieving. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll stay all night.”

You can feel your breathing stabilizing, can feel the steady stream of tears slowing as Logan holds you tighter. Your heart thunders in your chest and you hiccup, your headache subsiding with every trace of Logan’s fingertips across your back. He draws circles, stars, letters. And then two curves—c’s—no, a heart. He does it again. And again.

“Thank you,” you pant, your throat dry and hoarse from crying.

Logan presses another kiss to the crown of your head. “Nothing to thank me for, princess,” he says softly. “You should drink some water.” He sits up, keeping one arm tight around your back as he reaches to your nightstand, grabbing the cold glass off the table.

You lift your head from his chest, and he brings the glass to your lips, tipping it back carefully, slowly pouring the water past your lips. You swallow, the water hydrating your throat, and filling your belly. It’s so cold, so good. You drain the glass, and Logan places the empty cup onto the nightstand. He tugs you back into his chest.

You’re lying in his lap—your body situated between his legs, your head pressed into the center of his chest. You can hear his heart beating steadily. It’s calming, rhythmic, proof that he’s really here, that he’s alive and with you.

“How do you feel?” He husks, drawing what feels like another heart into your back. You’re significantly better now. The pain—physical and emotional—is just a minor sting, like a spotty stain, merely short, frustrating flashes of imagery.

“Better,” you whisper. But you wonder if Logan is asking to see if he’s done his job—if you’re recovered enough for him to leave. You sit up a bit. “I’m okay, if you wanted to go back to your room.”

“Do you want me to?” He asks, tugging you down. Your legs thoughtlessly tangle with his, silently begging him to stay, drawing him closer, your body communicating more than your words can.

“Not really,” you say honestly, looking up at Logan. He’s smiling softly at you.

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t wanna be anywhere else, darlin’.” You lay back down on him, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You can smell him—musk and pine, a hint of mint on his breath, leather on his skin, his clean shampoo in his hair. You hope you’ll still smell him on your sheets and pillowcases long after he’s gone.

It’s dizzying to have him this close—so distracting that you don’t fully realize what you’re doing until you’ve already done it: your lips pressed against Logan’s neck, placing soft kiss after soft kiss to his pulse point. It’s instinctual, second nature. Logan’s hands travel down to your lower back, feeling you, holding you in place against him. He groans softly, the sound sending a pulse to your core. It snaps you back to reality, and you stop your kisses.

“I’m sorry,” you say, slightly panicked. “Didn’t mean to—"

Logan’s hands travel further south, tracing the curve of your ass, and landing on the backs of your thighs. He lifts your thighs and spreads them apart so that you’re straddling him. “Felt good,” he husks, his nails grazing your ass as he trails back up, his hands settling on your hips. “You apologize too much, pretty girl.”

You lift your head from his neck, coming out of hiding. His eyes find yours, and he grips your hips tightly—so hard he might bruise, and you hope he does. Your heart hammers against your ribcage.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing worth seeing in the world. His head is tilted to the side, his smile reaching his eyes—the way it does when he’s truly happy. Your heart flutters at the sight. He shakes his head. “Look at you,” he mumbles, his forehead pressing to yours. “You’re so beautiful.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, copying you, kissing your pulse point. “F-fuck,” you mumble, heat rising to your chest. “What’re you doing?” you ask, moaning. Your arousal pours between your thighs—liquid heat.

“Making you feel good,” he says, like it’s a well-known fact—something to be assumed. “Taking care of you.”

“Lo…” you whine, trailing off as he nips at your skin. He loosens his grip on your hips, his arms wrapping around your waist, his fingers brushing your lower back. “S’nice,” is all you can manage to say, your chest heaving against his.

He smiles into your neck. “Relax,” he huffs, his lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your sensitive skin. “I’ve got you. Nothing to be nervous about.”

You lean into him, heat prickling your skin. You’re suddenly aware of how naked you are—only wearing a tank top and panties. Logan’s fingertips slide up, tugging at the hem of your top, slipping underneath. His palms spread against your shoulder blades, massaging gently. You moan his name, caving into his touch, your hips bucking against his.

“Feels g-good,” you stutter, pressing your face to the side of his head as he bites down on your pulse point again. “Want you, Lo,” you choke out. Your hands absent-mindedly trail down his bare back, your nails digging into his flesh. Logan grunts against your neck before pulling away. His hands find your hips again.

He presses his forehead to yours. “You sure you want this, pretty girl?” he whispers, his fingers digging into your skin, gently rocking you against him. “Give you anything you want. Just wanna be sure you really want this.”

“Yes, fuck,” you whine. “Wanna feel you. Need you closer.” He knows what you really mean. He’s felt it too—he’s woken up in the middle of the night and resisted the urge to walk down the hall and into your room; to pull you into his chest and beg to let him fuck you—to let him taste you. He held back.

Now he doesn’t have to.

His lips find yours, soft and languid at first. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you—doesn’t want to scare you away. He wants to make you feel good, to remind you that he’s here and he’s breathing. He’s real, warm, solid—a soft place to land. His lips meld with yours, moving together.

“Gonna take care of you,” Logan mumbles between kisses. “Gonna take the pain away, beautiful.” His teeth graze your lower lip, his tongue darting out to lick away the sting. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Y-you always make me feel good,” you stammer. “Just what you do,” you confess, the words falling freely, slipping out of their own volition.

Logan smiles against your lips. “Yeah? Don’t even have to do anything?”

You shake your head. “No,” you breathe. “You’re enough.”

You both know there’s more to those words; Logan’s heart squeezes in his chest as they wrack through his brain. He swallows harshly, fighting the tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. You bring your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks. “You’re enough, Lo,” you repeat, wanting him to hear the stretch of every syllable.

He brings one hand to the back of your neck while his other hand firmly grips your hip, his forehead pressing to yours. “So are you,” he whispers, working his jaw. His hips rock against yours, his erection sliding against your core. “Perfect girl.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips find yours again, swallowing your moans. He guides your hips and drags you down his cock with one hand, while the other holds your neck tightly, keeping you pressed to him. His tongue slips past your lips, tangling with yours, tasting you. He needs you like he needs oxygen. And you need him. He’s engulfing you like a wildfire, his touch searing your skin, making you his. But you’ve always been his. And he’s always been yours.

His teeth graze your lower lip. You can feel his hunger, his desperation growing. His erection strains against his boxers, bumping against your clit as you grind down on him. Your hands slide down to his neck, his shoulders, his sides, until your fingers bump into the hem of his boxers. You hook your thumbs into the waistband and tug, trying to pull them down. You need him now—need to feel full of him.

But Logan grabs your wrists tightly, without breaking the kiss. He holds you in place, assertively forcing your arms around your back. “Let me take care of you first,” he says, letting go of your wrists, wrapping his arms around your waist, and guiding you down to the mattress.

He hovers over you—balancing on his forearm—and presses a chaste kiss to your lips before trailing down to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. His lips brush against the straps of your top, his free hand sliding up your stomach, his fingertips playing with the hem. He mumbles a soft fuck against your skin.

“So beautiful,” he husks, hiking up your top, revealing your breasts. You sit up, helping him tug it over your head, and he throws it into the darkness of your room. His free hand immediately finds your chest, palming your flesh, rolling your pebbled nipples under his thumb—one after the other. You arch your back into his touch, searching for more friction, for more of Logan. You need all of him, and you need him now.

“Please,” you beg. He crawls down your body, looking up at you under half-lidded eyes. He kisses down the valley of your breasts, to your stomach, and stops just above the hem of your panties. “Need you so bad.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, hooking his fingers into your waistband and tugging your panties down your legs. “Need you too.” He throws your panties to the side and brings his palms to your thighs, pushing them open. He settles between your legs, taking a deep breath.

“Fuck. Can smell you, you know,” his voice is gruff and deep. “Can’t even tell you how many times I’ve thought about doing this.” His tongue suddenly pushes through your folds, swiping slowly up to your clit. Tension you didn’t know you were holding on to escapes your body, and you melt into the mattress. He grunts against you. “Tastes so good. So sweet.”

He licks another long stripe through your folds, his tongue flat against your heat. He flicks your clit, pulling the bud between his lips and sucking. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sensation. Logan’s left hand slips under your thigh, tugging you closer as he buries his face into your cunt.

“Logan,” you whine, your walls contracting around nothing. His right hand crawls up your inner thigh, climbing towards your heat. It’s like he knows just what your body needs, like he can read your mind. His fingers finally find your core, teasing your folds as he draws tight, rapid circles around your clit with his tongue.

He nudges against your entrance, slowly pushing his fingers inside. You gasp as he fills you up, his fingers long and thick, stretching you out. “So good,” you moan. You chant his name, whispering soft thank yous as he pulls his fingers out and pumps back in.

You’re a whimpering mess underneath him, his teeth grazing your clit as he pulls the bud back into his mouth and sucks, harder this time. “Sound so pretty when you whine for me,” Logan praises, thrusting his fingers deeper inside—down to his knuckles—only to pull out and plunge back in all the way again. “Love those little noises, darlin’. Could listen all day.”

His fingers drag against your walls, working you open. He’s devouring you, his face buried between your thighs, his tongue circling your clit. It’s all-consuming, the way he pulls you closer, the way he laps at you relentlessly. He groans against your cunt, and you realize this makes him feel good, too. He’s getting off on it—tasting you, making you whimper.

He looks up at you, catching your stare, and smiles against your cunt before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking roughly. Your walls contract and release around his fingers. “That felt good?” He asks, smirking against you and sucking again.

“Yes,” you moan. He picks up his pace, his fingers sliding in and out of your entrance, hitting that sweet spot deep inside with every thrust. You’re so close, and Logan knows. “L-Lo,” you stutter, your chest heaving. “Can I…” you trail off, your eyes fluttering closed as his fingers fuck into you.

“What do you need, pretty girl?” His tongue swirls around your clit, lapping at you, drawing those tight, rapid circles. He feels your walls clench down around him. “Need to come?” He asks teasingly. “Don’t need to ask, pretty girl, just let go for me,” he coos, sucking on your clit between sentences. “Next time I’ll make you beg for it.”

Fuck. Heat runs down your spine, pouring deep from within your belly, pleasure pulsing through your veins. You’re slipping, melting, falling, down, down, down, crashing. Logan, you chant. Logan. “That’s it, such a good girl,” Logan praises. Everything is searing, hot—his tongue lapping at your clit, his fingers thrusting deep inside you. You’re trembling underneath him as he works you through your orgasm, his tongue drawing slow, soothing strokes against your clit. His thrusts slow to a stop, his fingers stalling inside you.

He pulls out of you and licks another long stripe through your folds. You can tell he wants more. “Could eat this pretty pussy all night, sweetheart,” he mumbles against you, forcing himself away from your cunt. Your release glistens on his chin and his bottom lip, his tongue darting out, savoring every last drop of you. He climbs up your body, hovering over you again, pressing his forehead to yours.

You wrap your arms around his back, pulling his body down so that his chest is flush with yours. “Need more of you,” you beg, bucking your hips against his. “Need you inside.”

Logan swallows harshly, nodding his head as he sits up and tugs his boxers down his legs. His cock springs free against his stomach, and your breath catches in your throat at the sight. He lowers back down over you, resting on his forearm.

He slots himself between your legs, his hand at the base of his cock, guiding himself to your entrance. “Are you sure you want this?” He asks, his tip brushing through your folds. His eyes search yours. “Because once we do this…” He trails off, his jaw working. “I won’t be able to stop,” he pauses again. “Won’t be able to go back.”

You smile softly. “That’s okay. I don’t wanna stop,” you whisper. “I wanna be yours.”

His lips are on yours, starving, all-consuming, and then he’s plunging into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. “Fuck,” he groans, his cock throbbing inside you. “You feel so good, so perfect,” he murmurs, still deep inside, splitting you open. “So goddamn tight.” He finally moves, sliding out only to thrust back in, bottoming out again. “S-soft, so warm.”

Logan’s hand trails down your stomach, slipping between where your bodies connect to find your clit. His thumb strokes a soft circle into the sensitive bud, your back arching off the mattress at the sensation. “Logan,” you whine, his hips rocking against yours as he builds his pace. “So good,” you hiccup.

“Taking me so well,” Logan grunts, drawing tight circles into your clit as he fucks into you, his pumps growing faster with each hit. “You have no idea how much I needed you.” His cock drags along your walls, his hips snapping against yours. “No idea how many nights I walked by your door…” He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing as your walls flutter around him, squeezing him. “Needed to feel you, to be close to you, to fuck you.”

You curse under your breath as he rams into you. “Needed you, too,” you moan. “Always needed you, Logan. Always gonna need you.” His cock twitches at your words. You watch as his abs flex, his muscles tightening and releasing with every thrust.

Logan’s thumb flicks your clit roughly, adding pressure, drawing harder circles around the bud. “Never gonna let go of you, pretty girl,” he husks, his lips finding yours again. The kiss is sloppy, reckless. He bites your lip and sucks hard. It’s bruising, almost as animalistic as the way he pumps into you, unrelentingly, with no end in sight.

“Don’t want you to,” you say. It’s a plea, a prayer. “W-want you to stay.”

His cock twitches inside you again, throbbing against your walls. You know he’s close, and so are you. “Always gonna stay,” he mumbles against your bitten lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your muscles contract and release, squeezing him tightly as his hips rut into yours. Logan pinches your clit between his rough circles, pushing you closer and closer to that edge.

“Fuck,” you curse, your thighs shaking as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. It gives him a new angle to fuck into you, better leverage. He’s suddenly so much deeper, stretching you out all over again, hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust.

“You feel so perfect,” he groans, his skin slapping against yours. “Wanna fuck you forever, pretty girl.”

“Y-you can,” you choke out between his harsh thrusts. “Wh-whatever you want. ‘M’yours.”

Logan moans your name, his hips sputtering. “Mine,” he mutters, his pace faltering, his cock throbbing. “My fucking pussy.” His forehead presses to yours again, his resolve melting. “My girl.” His fingers swirl around your clit, faster, harder. It’s all too much; you’re so overstimulated, so overwhelmed.

“Please,” you beg, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes, your emotions running high. You can feel yourself spilling over, ready to burst. “Wanna…” You trail off, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Come on, beautiful,” Logan chides, his hips snapping into yours. “Look at me. Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come.” You listen, your eyes fluttering open. His gaze is trained on yours, unwavering, constant. “Be a good girl and come with me, princess,” he demands, his voice deep and dark. “Know you can do it for me.”

Your vision blurs, but you keep your eyes open as pleasure wracks through your body. “That’s it,” Logan praises, your walls clenching down around him. It’s forceful and sudden, electricity buzzing through your bones, liquid heat bubbling at the bottom of your belly.

Logan is right behind you, his cock throbbing inside you. You tighten your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Don’t pull out,” you whisper. “Please.”

He groans, your name rolling off his tongue as he fills you up, painting your walls. “Did so good for me, pretty girl,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear as he finishes deep inside you. “So fucking good.”

He pumps gently, in and out, slowing down until his hips stall. He stays inside, his chest heaving against yours. He draws one more soothing circle into your clit before his fingertips drag up your body, his arms sliding under your back. He rolls you over so that you’re straddling him, lying on his chest.

“You feel okay?” He asks, his voice soft and low.

“Perfect,” you answer, drunk off him, fucked out beyond belief. You didn’t know something could feel that good.

He hums. “Good,” he whispers. “This okay?” he asks, his arms tight around your back, holding you against him, his cock still half-hard, buried inside you.

You nod and murmur a quiet yes, burying your face into the center of his chest. “Want you to stay inside all night.” You need him to stay, need to keep him close.

“Whatever you want, princess.”

You lay in silence for a while, listening to his breathing, to the rhythm of his heartbeat. It’s calming, soothing. His fingertips run up and down your back.

You finally break the silence. “Thank you,” you whisper into the darkness.

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “For what?” He asks, his voice raspy and tired.

“For being there,” you say, letting your eyes flutter closed. “When I needed you.”

“Always gonna be there,” he husks. “Always gonna care about you.” He takes a deep breath, breaking his pattern, his rhythim. His heart beats faster. You can feel him tensing up. You lift your head from his chest, your eyes meeting his.

“You okay?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

Logan just smiles. “I love you.”

Your eyes widen and your heart drops, your stomach somersaulting at his words. “I love you too,” you say back.

Logan’s smile widens and he tugs you back down to his chest. “Thank you,” he says, repeating your words back to you.

It’s your turn now. “For what?”

“For loving me for what I am.”

You shake your head. “You have no idea how easy that is to do.” You let your heavy eyes fall closed. “You are enough Logan. More than enough. You’re perfect.”

He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “So are you, darlin’.” You can hear the crack in his voice. He clears his throat. “So are you.”

tags: @wolverinesslut @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @alastorssimp @alsoprettyinpink @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour @

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theyluvlyss · 5 months ago

Text

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 & 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲...

my head is all but consumed with thoughts only of wade wilson, logan howlett, and remy lebeau. they're all I can process in my head (besides shazam, but that's a given considering no one loves shazam the way I do, so🤷🏽‍♀️) and I y e a r n desperately for an influx in "wade x y/n x logan" fics and the "remy x y/n" fics... dare I even ask, humbly ofc, hear me out... for a splash of "wade x y/n x remy". genuinely, I'd kill for some of that ngl.

and I bet you're wondering, "lyssa, why not do it yourself🤔?"

short answer: I am swamped with requests, and even if I wasn't, I'm not ready yet lmao I fear I do not possess the skills to capture them in my writing perfectly😔 ... yet😈.

in the meantime, tho *😈evil little laughter😈* may I plz suggest the following prompts and pairings to and for anybody willing to work with them or wanting ideas (begging any writers that see this to please write these and tag me plz plz plz plz plz 😭🙏🏽😃plzplzplzplzplzplzplzpl-)...

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⚠️trigger and content warning btw lol -

mentions of fighting/violence/bloodshed, death, gore, (like c'mon,,, bffr, look at who you're reading about😐🤨), anxiety/panic attacks, harsh words/themes/elements/physical injuries, abuse and/or negelct, separation anxiety, mental disorders, brief mention of sickness/illness, drugs (just 🍃 and painkillers), age gap (nothing illegal, chill out🤨✋🏽), use of a derogatory term (not used in a negative sense tho lol), and some semi-common smut themes that I won't list here, but be wary if that stuff makes you uncomfortable :)♡. also, these are all under the pretense that the reader is a cis girl, she/her/hers pronouns (so ig you could think of this as one, big, mass request to all writers willing from me lol🤭🥴🫶🏽).

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 :

- reader having a panic/anxiety attack and ofc being comforted (causes my vary; maybe right after a fight/battle, or because of over-worrying or too much pressure, maybe after a fight with another loved one, etcetc). definitely wanna see this with all three of them, but separately, tho. like, one fic or list of "preferences/headcannons" for logan, one for wade, and then one for remy.

- near death or death (followed by resurrection swift after). it could be reader almost dies or dies (then gets resurrected, get creative with it/how, fr, yk?) or the reverse; the POI (person of interest) dies, although given two of the three's abilities, y'all might have to get creative if you want it to translate for logan and/or wade so this one would be mainly for a remy x reader.

- I personally love a good "POI says sumn mean/outta pocket, hurts reader's feels, stuff happens idk, but they eventually kiss and make up" trope. I'd eat that up, especially cuz OHHH,,,, wade taking a joke or playful argument or something too far? logan being a little too mean/angsty to you for comfort?? remy saying something that gets lost in translation, so it comes out harsher than intended??? 😫😫😫‼️‼️ AND IF YOU WANNA GET MESSY WIT IT, RUNNING TO ONE OF THE OTHER THREE FOR COMFORT🙈🙈⁉️⁉️⁉️.

- a classic; reader getting injured (mildly or worse, doesn't matter), needing to be taken care of, but is stubborn about it?? always a good one.

- getting a little crazy and silly here, but I like a good "abusive and/or negelctful ex/current partner" trope. like hell yeah, one of you big, strong men get over here and save me, whisk me away and show me what I really deserve😻‼️. NOT romanticizing/glorifying it obvs, like no, I mean that wade, logan, and/or remy would not be the red flags in this scenario, they're the one(s) doing the saving FROM the red flag ex/current partner lol.

- getting a little crazier and sillier with this one, but one where reader gets snatched up🙂? oouuuu, miss girl got kidnapped?! once again, somebody come save me, and if "somebody" is not wade, logan, and/or remy, then don't bother, I don't want it. matter of fact, just gon' on ahead and leave me, I'll figure it out myself🙂✌🏽. I think I'd want these separate, actually, bc I wanna take in the individuality of their reactions, like,,, logan going feral?? pretty predictable tbh lmao but still hot. remy?? idek ngl, y'all gon' have to figure him out. BUT WADE BEING SERIOUS AND NOT AS TALKATIVE FOR ONCE UNTIL HE KNOWS YOU'RE SAFE???? OOOHOOHOOOOOOO, GIMMIE🖐🏽👹🖐🏽✊🏽👹✊🏽!!!

- ig this could be put in the panic/anxiety attack category, but I also feel like this might be it's own separate thing, so idk, but... separation anxiety on reader's part. whatever the circumstances may be to breed it, reader is just (not in a unhealthy way) attached to the POI(s), so them leaving for whatever reason is pretty hard on her (and the POI(s), too, because hello, they don't wanna make their reader upset, but things gotta get done fr yk😫🥲),,, lots of reassurance, comforting, and maybe distractions ensue??

- reader with an alter ego/inner beast, whether that be a result of her powers or a mental disorder (think like,,, split personality or maybe DID or something like that, but I do wanna say, if you're gonna go the mental route, make sure you do your research so that you're representing it - not only accurately - but you're not dehumanizing or dumbing it down as well) or just anything that would cause the reader to, as I said, have a different side of themself,,, werewolf type deal, yk? "normal" for the most part, but then has her moments where she be on demon time and then when she's back to herself, she's just like "???" while everyone else is like "!!!". I suppose this could then be followed up/solved with a "the sun's getting real low" typa thing/moment from the POI(s), but that's neither here nor there, do what feels right fr♡.

- reader (just barely) escapes cassandra nova??? that could be cool (a.k.a. very, very angsty bc surely the encounter has messed the reader alllll the way up both mentally and physically, especially knowing what typa timing cass be on lmao😃). love a good hurt/comfort, I can't get enough, actually. this one (given the movie context) may or may not work with wolvie and/or pool (again, up to the writer to get creative), but gambit?? he's been in the void his whole life, he knows cass, sooo it'd make more sense for him to have a higher understanding of the situation in full, but do what y'all want, I'm just the idea woman🤷🏽‍♀️.

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 :

- morning cuddles and softeness and ughghfhfhdjd♡!!♡!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!! and then the opposite, night/bedtime cuddles and softness and uugjfjdkwkfke♡!!♡!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!!

- height difference teasings and shenanigans. we can always stick to the classics, ofc, short reader, tall wade, logan, and/or remy. maybe its an advantage in fights - fast, lethal, and small + big, shielding, and strong - but sucks in more domestic/calm cases like reaching for shit on the top shelf or wanting to kiss somebody. but I'd also love some tall gworl reader type shit, miss strong, lean, runway model energy, stepping on any heads and wooing any men that are in her path🥴😻. bending down with a smile so she can hear him, mindlessly playing with his hair, occasionally makes a quip here and there on the difference without thinking lol and he haaaaateeees all of it (but he looooveeeessss all of it🤭).

- reader being THAT GIRL, literally being in a 1v26 or sumn crazy like that and she's just kicking ass and shit the whole time, and then there's the POI(s),,, gawking and in love like "damn that's MY GIRL fr\😻/!!".

- *imagine a vine boom after every bolded word, okay, go* teen/minor/young PLATONIC NONSEXUAL NONROMANTIC (literally I can not stress this enough) NOT DATING AT ALL EVER reader and one/two/all of them. I think it'd just be silly seeing them (wade, logan, and or remy) working/paired with/having a bond with this little gremlin yet sweetheart of a reader who's somehow able to tolerate/put up with/ignore/maybe even indulge in their craziness lmfao. maybe just as or is even more crazy than they are, chaotic and desensitized type shit. you could even get ansgty with it, have this teen reader need saving or something like that, yk?

- sparring match and reader BEATS POI(s) in said spar cuz she's cool, awesome, and mega baller like that. lots of tension and goofiness, especially from the reader, cuz she knows damn well she's the shit. or, a different route!!... total dumb luck that she beat him/both/all of them, and is very obviously playing it off/acting like she won on purpose lmfao, cockiness ensuing.

- can't go wrong with a sick-fic lol. who doesn't wanna be taken care of?

- reader needs/wears glasses🤷🏽‍♀️. it can be the discovery of actually needing them, reader always squinting tryna read/see shit, or nearly getting herself in and out of danger bc again, she blind lmao. or it's just the case of reader never wears them out and about, but in calmer moments (where she doesn't run the risk of breaking them) she'll put them on, so she decides to bust 'em out one day and it's just the POI(s) being like ":O...😻😻!!".

- *olivia rodrigo voice* JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY, YEAA-aAAH😫😫‼️ ... reader who just,,, she don't play that shit, man, lmfao it's called you can prove yourself either friend or foe,,, stay tf away from my man or get your ass beat. pick one. and it's the POI(s) just absolutely flattered and amused with this energy from reader lmfao, reassurance ensuing quick after ofc. or, if you wanna get silly with it (and by silly, I mean violent♡), reader with a girl who can't take a hint😀 *eye twitch* so she finally makes shit clear one way or another (one way; does sumn with the POI(s) that makes the girl uncomfortable so she fucks off. another; reader pretty much beats that girl up and it's the POI(s) laughing but also trying to pry reader off of her cuz "stop it, I'm yours, I promise, you don't have to kill her, she didn't know any better😭!"). or just completely switch it up, vice versa, role-reversal POI(s) get jelly and it's reader having to deal with whatever may happen after/due to the fact lol.

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 :

- shameless flirt reader!!!! she's not obnoxious or out of character/proper timing with it, but definitely a reader with helllllaaaaa rizz. is mainly on some "is somebody gonna match my freak?" type shi. wade would find it very silly and he'd match the freak ofc. logan,,, maybe he'd start off annoyed by it, then get used to it, only realizing you've actually grown on him once you start to pull back a little/stop completely? REMY WOULD LOVE AND BE AMUSED BY IT, so all I'm gonna say here is this: rabbits🐇🥰. iykyk♡.

- a smoke sesh leading to some good, old fashioned high/sleepy sex🥰. that's it, that's the prompt♡.

- lord, free me from my sins🙏🏽, plz don't judge me y'all😔 ,,, age gap😃? NOTHING CRAZY, CHILL, but yk, like,,, just a little young thing in her 20s or sumn being scooped up by one (or two🤭) of these older, more mature, aged like fine wine, and experienced men,,, that's all🥰.

- that moment when reader is a whore and is actually literally prancing around without a care in the world, fucking three different guys (wade, logan, and remy obvs) because "they're hot lol" - not necessarily behind their backs - but no one's saying anything or telling her no, nor does anyone seem to have any issues with it/are opposed, sooo😗🤷🏽‍♀️.

- do y'all think,,, because wolverine is yk...wolf-like-ish-whatever.... do y'all think that he,,,, that maybe he goes thru... a rut🙂?? lmfaoGDHAKXKPQPRR okay that's enough, that's enough🥴✋🏽-.

- you know how some smut has certain labels/themes/tags that are gonna be, yk,,, in said smut?? well, cuz I'm out of any specific ideas for smut, I'm just gonna leave some here, m'kaaaay, and whatever y'all wanna dooooo is up to youuuu, just as long as I get to seeee😗☺️🫶🏽~...

⚠️ also don't say I didn't warn y'all, I mean, there's literally a whole ass trigger warning at the top, so do not start fckn trippin' because you disagree with me or saw sumn you don't fw, cuz tbh, I don't care and you can honestly block me if it's that serious♡.

dom-sub, daddy/praise/breeding/spanking kink, knife/gun/blood play (and/or just mutant/power ability play in general hehehe), food/wax play, cnc (I don't suggest full blown non-con seeing as none of them seem the type to do such, no matter the circumstances, plus it's just not my thing personally but hey, I'm not currently writing for pool, wolvie, or gambit rn, so that's up to whoever is🤷🏽‍♀️), hunter-prey (y'all might see this and immediately think wolvie, which is understandable fr, but I beg y'all to get creative and let remy and/or wade hunt reader down, it can be done and done right, I promise, plz, I need it, 😫PLEASE!!-), friends with benefits,,, OHHH ENEMIES with benefits🫢🫢!!, overstim, jealousy/possessive/yandere, unprotected/creampie/oral ... that's all that comes to mind lmao wow what a crazy note to end this on, anyways-

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yeah, so, do with all of this what you will (and plz spread this around, I genuinely do wanna see these get written and myself tagged like I am PINING for these fic ideas to be turned into reality😭🙏🏽), I just had to get my thoughts out before I forgot (at least in the fanfic department), because if someone were to ask me my thoughts on the movie itself !!!!! OMG I could run my mouth forever, but I don't wanna do that (lazy) so lmao for now, that's all lol byeeee~ /ᐠ-˕-マ!!

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so-much-for-the-seashells · 5 months ago

Text

Sore

Logan Howlett x Reader

Minors, do NOT interact.

A/N: More of my Wolvie because my creative side rests in him atm. Based on the fact that my back literally is brokeback mountain and my legs feel like I took that cowboy up on his offer for five hours after saving his horse atm 🤣 also, domestic smut is SO underrated.

Anyway, all interaction, especially commentary is heavily appreciated! Enjoy!

Cw: Logan’s helping you feel less sore, things get steamy. Fluffy and spicy, domestic!Logan.

P.S: Want more of Logan? Check out my headcanons and/or feel free to submit an ask for a Drabble or Ficlet. :> You want daddy dom Logan? I gotchu. You want Logan to watch, idk, Cars with you?? I gotchu. Just nothing too dark or too crazy, please. Anonymous or not, feel free to drop your thoughts/thots!

****************************************************

You had flopped down on the your big ass bed the moment you’d gotten home from the gym. For whatever reason you had thought it would be a good idea to overdo it both today and yesterday, and now your legs and back were suffering the consequences.

So here you are, lying face down, starfish style. You barely remembered to kick off your nasty shoes and socks. Haven’t showered, haven’t pulled the comforter down. Just lying there in your misery as the pain in your legs chooses to linger.

You had to have been lying there for about ten minutes when you’re finally ready to get up, but then you hear the door open.

“Y/N?” Logan calls, having just got home from work apparently. It’s about eight at night, this is very early for him.

“Bedroom,” you call back weakly.

You hear his light footsteps pattering towards you. If you hadn’t been together as long as you had you wouldn’t be able to hear him because of how stealth he is.

“Aw, sweets, what’s wrong?” he asks as he walks into the bedroom.

“Sore,” you mumble, giving him another one word answer.

“Why?” he prods, in a somewhat lilting tone that implies he knows exactly why.

“Cause I overdid it,” you say begrudgingly. He was the one who warned you not to, and you could all but sense the smirk that had to be on his face right now. “If you say ‘I told you so’ I’m going to smother you,” you threaten as a follow up.

“Do it with that pretty cunt of yours and we’ll call it even.” Cheeky, as always. You groan in response, and not in a sexy way, even though his dirty words don’t fail to make your core feel a little warmer. “Alright alright. Can I try to make you feel better?”

“Please.” Your voice is slightly whiny as the ache in your legs is starting to get unbearably annoying.

“Aww, sugar,” he tuts, kissing you on the top of your head. “Just give me one second.”

He disappears momentarily, reappearing with some Advil and lemonade for you to drink it with. He sets the pair on the nightstand.

“I’m gonna sit you up, okay?”

“Wait-“ you protest, before gasping ‘ow!’ as he uses his trying arms to hold you up, resting your back against your plush pillows and headboard. He sits in front of you, draping your calves over the tops of his thighs.

“Here,” he hands you the lemonade and Advil.

“Thanks. Wait- tell me about your day,” you prod, before swallowing the pill and the drink down.

“Oh, you really are sweet on your old man, ain’tcha,” he grins, flattening out the random wisps of hair that had escaped your updo. You smile sweetly at him, before downing the rest of the glass.

“Well, I went to stop some guy from stealing an old lady’s purse, but by the time I got over there she was smacking him over the head with it.”

“What in the Tom and Jerry?” you laugh incredulously.

“I swear it! In my too-many years I’ve never seen anything like that.” God, you could never grow tired of seeing Logan like this. Giggly, tired, relaxed. It’s so nice.

“It’s the thought that counts, I guess,” I offer.

“Yeah, until Granny knocks it out of you,” he quips, and we both laugh. “So, where are you hurting?”

“My legs and my back. Shouldn’t have done the extra set of the one where you close your legs on the thing,” I tell him.

“What’re you wearing under this?” he asks, motioning to you. You’re wearing a sports tank and shorts, and underneath…

“Girl’s boxers and a sports bra.”

“Attagirl. Mind if I strip you down to those? Less layers makes it easier for me to dig into you.”

“You ask that as if you don’t fuck me almost every night,” you quip, the affirmation plain in your voice.

“And almost every morning and afternoon, but who’s counting?” he retorts with a mischievous grin. This is true- even after so many years of being together the two of you still can’t keep your hands off of each other.

“Don’t forget about evenings,” you add.

He gasps melodramatically, -“I could never.”-before tugging off your shorts. You sigh contentedly, glad to be free of your fabric confines. He then gently eases off your shirt so that, true to his word, you’re only in your undergarments.

“Can you lay on your stomach for me?” he asks.

“Mhm,” you slowly move from your spot amidst the pillows, slowly but surely. The pain doesn’t get enough time to build as much as before, and just rests at the same throbbing as before. You hear Logan rummaging in the nightstand.

“Shit, sorry, baby. I thought I had bought more of that lavender oil, but I forgot,” he says apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it, your hands are more than enough already,” you tell him.

“Oh yeah?” Logan turns any words he can into a double entendre, it’s his sense of humor.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a rabbit mutation,” you laugh, referring to his persistent and ever present horniness.

“Do I look like a rabbit to you?” he asks gruffly, still joking. You feel the bed dip from behind you under his weight.

“You are pretty cute,” you tell him.

“But a rabbit?” he asks, incredulousness in his voice.

“Mayb-ohh,” your words are broken off as his surprisingly gentle hands start kneading your calves.

“Ohh,” he imitates, pressing deeper. God it feels good- hurts on contact, but then completely alleviates the pressure.

“Shut up,” you try to say through your soft moans of pleasure.

“That’s gonna be a no, sugar,” you can hear the overconfidence in his voice, and it doesn’t even bother you because of how much better you’re feeling.

“Ow-,” you whisper as he presses on a particularly painful spot in the inside of your leg.

“That’s it, huh?”

You meekly hum in response as he takes initiative to continue pressing on it, digging into it with his thumbs.

Eventuakly he has you feeling like putty, all comfortable until…

“Oh, come on!” you say indignantly as he flips you over. You feel the dull pain in your legs ignite again, and you already know what he’s about to make you do.

“I know, but you know you need to stretch,” he chides, sitting on his knees between your thighs. He has a shit-eating grin on his face, because he knows damn well how inflexible you are, especially when you’re sore.

You stick your tongue at him to no avail. He grabs your thigh, squeezing it before beginning to push it back. The dull pain immediately intensifies.

“F-fuck you!” you squeak as he pushes your thigh back further, your knee nearing your shoulder. You clutch Pookie as tight as you can to your chest. The words are directed more to the pain than him, but he can’t help but tease you, naturally.

“Is that nice?” he chastises lightly, the smile plain on his lips as he holds you in place. You can feel your muscles screaming from the soreness, but the position does seem to be alleviating the pressure some.

“No,” you pout guiltily, not wanting to seem ungrateful to him.

“I’m kidding,” his voice softens as he presses my leg back further.

“Ow!” you whine, the additional pressure making your leg impossibly more sore.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he reassures me, massaging the back of my thigh as he holds it in place. He grabs the lone stuffed animal that rests amongst your too-many pillows and blankets. It’s an okapi, his name is Pookie. However, Logan calls him ‘Abomination,’ because the first time you showed him a picture of one that’s what he called it. You always get miffed about him calling it that, so he adamantly makes sure to do so, even though he’s the one that bought it for you on a whim. Go figure.

“How about you hold A-Bomb? Will that make you feel better?”

“It will if you call him by the right name,” you tell him, sass in your voice. He grins- for whatever reason he finds it extremely amusing to annoy you.

“But his name is Abomination,” Logan insists, momentarily distracting you from putting down your leg before picking up your more sore one.

“No it’s not,” you protest, before literally squeaking from how bad it hurts to have the other leg pushed back.

“Fine, it’s not,” he says gently, handing you the stuffed animal with his free hand as he keeps your leg pinned back. You squeeze it as he pushers further, holding it for what feels like fifteen years but in reality is probably all of fifteen seconds.

Slowly you start feeling better, that is until he drops your leg and grabs both this time.

“Logan, no, I’m already stretched out, I feel better-,” you try, but as always, he knows better. He lifts both legs up, and however much better you were feeling is immediately ruined because your lower back is being added to the equation.

“Ow!” you whine, trying to wriggle free from his grasp to no avail. Damn his super strength. Your back is all but shrieking at you now.

“I seem to recall you being able to do this,” Logan says smugly. And you immediately clench on nothing, because you know exactly what he’s referring to.

“Well you’re not exactly dicking me down right now, are you?” Usually when your legs are over his shoulders like this it’s because he’s ploughing into you like it’s your last night on earth. And the memories are vivid- he always makes damn sure of that. The sweat on his brow, his filthy vocabulary….

Okay, you’re wet now.

“Dicking you down?” he laughs. “What are you, Wade?”

“Suddenly I’m not turned on anymore,” I roll my eyes. The Merc with a Mouth may just about exclusively talk about sex, but somehow it’s never sexy. Maybe it has something to do with the fact he still has the brain of a thirteen year old. Who knows.

“Mmm, let’s see about that,” he murmurs, tossing your stuffed animal to the side and dropping your legs down, to your relief. He tugs at your boxer shorts, looking you in the eye for consent. You nod, and he takes no time at all to slide them down your pretty legs. “Looks pretty turned on to me,” he says gravelly as he looks at your cunt.

“Mhm,” you agree, your voice wanton and low.

He knows exactly what you like, and neither of you is surprised by the shiver your elicits from you as he runs a knuckle through your slick folds.

One of the things about being with Logan is anything can be sexy, and by association, turn into sex. You don’t mind at all- you match his freak, if you will- but it is easy to marvel at how random it can be.

Some days it’s just your morning chatter- you’ll be talking about who knows what, maybe a movie you’ve seen, maybe your plans for the day. And then you’ll straddle him to get him to focus on you, because he’s always sleepy and slow in the morning. Before you know it he’ll have his hands on your hips, easing you up and down on his cock.

Other times it’ll be you two silently reading on the couch, legs crossed over one another because you can’t go a second without touching. Once one of you gets bored, it’s over for the other. If it’s he who gets bored but you’re still invested in your book, he’ll have you cockwarm him and finish your book. Sometimes it’s the other way around, but because you’re so needy you’ll usually be bouncing on him before he can finish and who is he not to do as you wish?

It’s always something. And one of those somethings apparently him helping you stretch,, which is a new one because usually you pass out after he contorts you like that.

After getting you ready for him, which really doesn’t take long since you’re almost always wet for him when you’re in his vicinity, he pulls down his sweats and his own boxers just enough to expose his dick.

But, because he’s Logan, and he’s annoying, he grabs the backs of your thighs with a mischievous grin, and before you even realize what he’s doing he presses both of your legs back. It really doesn’t hurt as bad, especially when he leans down to kiss you so passionately and all-consumingly that your mind clouds over.

“You ready f’me?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know that you are.

“Yeah, baby. Yeah,” you breathe. “Just go slow, please.”

“I promise, sweet girl,” he kisses you again, aligning himself with your entrance. “God, I love you,” he whispers as he watches himself slide into you with ease.

“I love you too,” tell him through a gasp, kissing his nose. “Please don’t make me more sore.” You have to reiterate that you want him to be slow, because while Logan is the sweetest, most considerate lover you could have, sometimes he can’t help but overdo it.

He laughs, not one to deny your imploring. “I’ve got you.” He bottoms out slowly, resting inside of you before pushing just a little bit more, hitting a spot that feels so good that it brings tears to your eyes. You’re so, so full of him, you can feel every twitch. This angle, painful as it may be, lets him get so wonderfully deep inside you. It’s a wonder you hadn’t tried this sooner.

“Oh, Logan,” you breathe, leaning into his touch as he kisses over your collarbone.

“Good, huh?” he says somewhat cockily, slowly pulling out of you before bottoming back out, hitting that impossible spot again. It feels so good that you can’t even think of something to say in response. “Thought so,” he smiles, kissing you on the nose. His voice has gonna somewhat breathy, but he still continues his steady, slow pace. The sounds that fill the room are gentle, with soft sighs and grunts and the occasional moan of one or the other’s name. And it’s perfect.

It feels so good that you feel tears slipping down your cheeks, and he leans down to kiss them away. “I know, sweet girl. I know.” His tone is soft, and it prompts you to further bury yourself in your fluffy comforter and pillows as he slowly coaxes a release out of me. He kisses you, slow but passionate as his fingers start to circle your clit in the way you like. The circles are much faster than his thrusts, and the sensation of the contrast in paces is absolutely delicious.

Logan loves having you like this- soft and sweet, in no rush. Your legs strewn haphazardly over his shoulders, squeezing him every time he nudges the head of his cock that extra inch inside of you. He loves to kiss you, to talk you through it. He loves you.

“You’re taking me so well, beautiful. You always do,” he coos, adding more pressure to your sensitive bud. You only whimper in response as your orgasm starts to build. He can feel it, hell, he can smell it. That sweet smell that’s so uniquely yours, that he’s so addicted to. “You gonna cum f’me? Make a mess all over this big dick?” he asks, knowing full well how much of a mess his dirty words make of you. You nod ever so slightly, you’re entire body on fire from how good it feels.

Your legs tighten around his head as you cum, and it’s perfect. The pleasure is immense, intense enough to make you close your eyes as he keeps his same pace, drawing it out longer than ever. “Logan?” you whisper once you catch your bearings.

“Yeah?” he asks, still moving slowly and hitting that perfect spot. His voice is slightly strained, you can tell he wants to cum.

“Cum in me, please,” you ask with your best doe eyes.

“Gladly, sugar,” he kisses you again, coming with just a few more thrusts as you clench around him as tightly as you can. “Fuck,” he mumbles, biting the juncture of your neck and shoulder and darkening what may as well be a permanent mark from him. He always bites in the same spot. He lets your legs down but stays inside you, panting as he holds you close. Eventually he pulls out, and you whine from the loss of contact, feeling your mixed releases slip out of you.

“You feeling better?” he asks, laying on his side as you do the same.

“Yeah. Thank you so much,” you tell him.

“Anything for you, gorgeous. I’ve heard that a good orgasm releases tension.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah,” he grins.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he hugs you close.

“Waiiiit I need to shower,” you complain, trying to push him away.

“In a minute,” he counters, nuzzling his face in your neck and squeezing you tighter.

That’s definitely the biggest lie he could have told you, because you both knew damn well it would be more than a minute. And even when you do get out of bed- sorry, Pookie!- there’s always room for showers and post-shower sex. You don’t make the rules, it just happens. And with your luck you’ll probably be sore tomorrow, and you’ll probably have asked for it.

What can you say? You’re just a girl, after all. A girl who loves her guy, whose guy loves her.

Fin! Xx.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine fluff #wolverine smut

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arkhammaid · 10 months ago

Text

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THE LIGHTNING ON TRACK | THE WAIT FOR THE FIRST RACE

fandom. formula one & mcu

about. the waiting time between pre-season testing and first race is being filled

content warnings. the girls (men) are fighting and y/n gets a reality check

notes. another chat chapter because you guys liked it lol

george russell Welcome, @/oliverbearman and @/ynstark to the main Grid Chat. I will add you to the other ones as well.

daniel ricciardo WELCOME!!! We're so happy to finally have you here

Also, @/kevinmagnussen, welcome back you ass

Don't leave any groupchats again, it's a pain to add you back

george russell Considering I have to do the work, you're not allowed to complain Daniel

lando norris booo, let him have the fun

nico hülkenberg Oh no, it starts again. I'll mute you asshats if you don't stop this

lando norris you're just boring

oliver bearman thank you guys! very happy and honored to be finally part of the big guys 🫣

y/n stark thank you, george! and i'm excited to officially meet you all, until then, hello :)

charles leclerc Hello y/n, welcome to the grid! I hope you'll enjoy your stay here 😉

y/n stark thank you charles, i'm sure i will lol

kevin magnussen I swear I will block you all

daniel ricciardo Don't be like that, you love us

y/n stark lol, he actually hates you guys, won't stop whining kevin magnussen One day, young lady, one day... y/n stark y'all hear sum? charles leclerc Gagged. lando norris charles???

carlos sainz Can you guys just shut up for once, dios mio.

charles leclerc Aww, Carlos, you love us! carlos sainz Debatable. Sometimes I wish you would all crash and not survive to be honest oscar piastri We get it, you're an asshole carlos sainz Fuck off Piastri oscar piastri Right back at you Sainz

lewishamilton welcome to our new rookies! ollie, awesome to see you again, y/n, don't be a stranger, we haven't talked in ages!

y/n stark lew!! we defo have to, gonna hit you up for fashion show for sure, pepper has been planning something pierre gasly Lew 👀 y/n stark look who's here... the tripod.... pierre gasly Yeah yeah, shutting up. Welcome to the grid y/n y/n stark thank you pierre

sergio perez Welcome, rookies.

max verstappen From me a welcome as well!

esteban ocon Welcome, welcome!! This is so exciting, I've been waiting for a long time now 😋😋

lance stroll Estie??? esteban ocon Shht, Lancey, let me cook lance stroll 💀💀💀

lance stroll Anyways, all of them are idiots, as we already know, welcome to hell, y/n

y/n stark aww, thank you lance. so sorry you have to go throught this 🫂 charles leclerc We're not so bad?? lewis hamilton Well. charles leclerc Oh come on Lewis lewis hamilton I didn't say anything

fernando alonso Stark and Bearman! Welcome to the coolest people on the paddock 😎

oliver bearman thanks fernando! y/n stark thanks nando 😎

alexander albon Hi guys, so nice to see you finally in here! @/georgerussell you took your sweet time man

george russell You be Head of the GPDA then. alexander albon No thank you, I'm fine 🙃

logan sargeant Welcome, welcome, happy to see some new faces!

oscar piastri They're finally here. Welcome back Ollie and welcome Y/n to this shit hole

lando norris you know what osc? oscar piastri No, and I don't care. Save the talking for the track lando norris you do know i'm still zak's favorite driver? i could get you fired oscar piastri Please don't. charles leclerc This is what you get for lying in an interview. No groupchat with all of us is ever formal oscar piastri This literally isn't about you Charles charles leclerc Boo, you hater

y/n stark @/kevinmagnussen i see what you've said now...

kevin magnussen Never ever doubt me again, I've been with those fuckers for years now daniel ricciardo Hey!! That's not nice yuki tsunoda you know what else is not nice ricciardo? daniel ricciardo Yuki, drop it. Team orders are team orders yuki tsunoda i don't give a fuck old man, you behave like a bitch you get bitch behavior max verstappen Drop it or else I'll involve Helmut. yuki tsunoda fuck you dan-cocksucker max verstappen Yuki. We don't carry out team issues to the grid. yuki tsunoda he started first and i have proof daniel ricciardo I don't know why you're being so dramatic, it was only testing yuki tsunoda i give you dramatic you fucking asshole. you know what you did and i stand by my statement that this was a total asshole move. just because you got a big smile doesn't mean you're fooling everyone fucking ass george russell I will both kick you out if you don't drop this immediately.

carlos sainz And it starts again...

valterri bottas You're all children. Stop it

y/n stark so pierre was right huh 😀

kevin magnussen I told you so. pierre gasly Why am I getting involved in shit again?

zhou ganyu I apologize for their behavior. Y/n, Oliver, welcome to the grid, I'll be excited to race you both!

kev

are they actually children because wtf did i just witness.

Yeah... I told you drivers are dramatic. Well, most of them and other's are just their victims. Of course we have our moments and friendships but it's a ruthless sport

man tf. literal man children. i'm so glad i have you as a teammate kev. like seriously. i don't know if i could survive with someone like daniel or carlos

the passive agressive vibes <<<<

that's just not it tbh

I have no idea what you just said but I agree. Daniel and Yuki are not good teammates, it was already bad last year and now this.

To be honest, Nico and I often missed stuff like that since we were stuck at Haas and the upper dogs never really showed interest in what we thought or did but everyone knew what happened between them

pls don't tell me they have a clique here... oh my god and i thought the rumors were false

I mean.. not really but also kinda yes? Better drivers stick together since they're always spending time together, you know. No one cares about the ones who're limping behind, well besides Pierre and Esteban, but they're only kinda involved because they're close to Charles and Lance. And Lewis and Fernando aren't really on their level, they keep to themselves

why are men problematic

not you obvs, but like... jeez really felt the love here when we got welcomed

Welcome to F1 kid, it's a shithole

thanks, it's so lovely here

dad?

i think it's worse than we thought

Honey, what are you talking about?

everything. you should see the group chat with the drivers right now. i thought people were joking about f1 drivers being bitter and bitchy towards each other, but there are literally groups and alliances or whatever the fuck is going on there

and if that's only the drivers... i don't want to know how the teams are

Oh.

but also like, what is that going to stop us? we made plans, we know what to do but dear lord are men stupid. well not all but most of them. i literally had to watch how yuki and daniel were fighting because of a team issue in the GROUPCHAT with all drivers

and when max told them to drop it, he got called a dan-cocksucker, can you imagine??

everyone seems to know why they're fighting besides me and ollie, i knew there was tension in alpha tauri but this?? it's a new level of what the fuck is going on here

Are you alright?

i am

just

yk had to tell someone who's not kev since he has been involved in this forever and is used to it. but i still thought

well idk what i thought, maybe i'm just stupid for my wishful thinking

should've known all of this was pr and that most rumors are true. it will make our lives a bit harder

Don't worry, no matter what they throw against us, it's no alien invasion. They're just whiny little men after all and I'm literally Iron Man

i know dad

love you. and thank you

Of course, anything for you

taglist. @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel, @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @akiraquote , @kiiyoooo , @nichmeddar , @nothingfuninthislife , @minkyungseokie , @fionaschicken , @lyrasconstellation , @spideybv28 , @keii134 , @starssfall , @tpwkstiles , @fangirl-dot-com , @lady-laura-speaks , @nikfigueiredo , @hinamesgigantica , @brakingboundaries , @almostjollypizza , @yoremins , @raizelchrysanderoctavius , @celesteblack08 , @watermelon-sugars-things , @lighttsoutlewis , @radiantdanvers , @vellicora , @sterredem , @hiireadstuff , @jolixtreesunn , @mypage-myfandoms , @nelly187 @greeneyesandsunshine , @fulla02 , @welovediaaxx , @whyamireadingthis , @67-angelofthelordme-67 , @blueberry64857959 , @winchesterwife27 , @six-call , @skywalker1dream , @mellowarcadefun , @cherry-piee , @peterholland04 , @motorsportloverf1 , @renarots , @msbyjackal , @woozart , @leclucklerc , @yl90 , @thebook-bitch

crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE SERIES TAGLIST? please leave a comment on this post or send a non anonymous ask!

ARKHAM MAID 2024

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 female driver #fem!driver #female driver #tony stark x reader #kevin magnussen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations

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hyper-fixates · 18 hours ago

Text

Visions of a Life

Old Man!Logan x AFAB!reader (no pronouns/gendered language).

Explicit content (18+)

Word count: 5.7k

Tags/warnings: age-gap due to logan’s mutation (reader’s age not specified), established relationship, mutant!reader, not canon-compliant, fluff, domesticity, explicit language, dry humping, brief unprotected sex, angst (and i’m not joking), soft!logan, groping, a few uses of “baby”, mentions & allusions to death (no one dies tho), descriptions of blood (kindly let me know if anything was missed!).

Summary: What does an animal do when he’s sick? He goes away to die.

Notes: this was supposed to take a different route, but it just didn’t feel right as i went along…forgive me for being a bit of a LIAR 🙃

The dry Texas heat faded with each kilometre you travelled. The desert slowly turned into rangelands, and the rangelands eventually became the frozen, snow-covered ground of Alberta.

The trip was only a couple days, and the stark change in weather almost made your bones nearly seize and shatter when you stepped out of the truck and were met with the sharp winter wind.

The cold definitely made Logan’s bones ache more than they already do.

Not even his red flannel and jean jacket can offset the negative temperature in the slightest.

“Hm…wow. Cute,” you say in succession, taking a few slow steps toward the quaint cabin.

It’s all dark, smooth wood that stands out amongst the bare, white birch trees and blue spruces that are covered in a light dusting of this morning’s snow.

The second thing you notice is the quiet.

It’s so quiet. No neighbours, no highways—just silence, and the slight rustling of the wind through the tree branches.

You’re deep in the bush, a spot near the south-west border that gives a partial view of the Rockies.

“Grab your bag,” Logan says as he shuts his door, the sound cutting violently through the still air.

It’s almost eerily quiet. No chirping birds, no chittering squirrels, no howling wolves in the distance. Just you and Logan. Isolated.

It’s everything he’s been yearning for since living in Mexico and spending more than enough time working in El Paso.

It’s what he’s been missing desperately ever since living down south—Alberta—his real home. Yet it’s a place that holds no significance to you.

“Yes, sir,” you remark with a lazy, mocking salute of your hand, smirking at how Logan glares at you harmlessly as he walks by you to the cabin.

Logan decided it’s time. Time to come back. Time to be realistic about your future, or lack of, together.

He decided that he’s done fighting himself, and that there’s nothing left for either of you in Mexico even if it’s all you’ve come to know.

He refused to let himself die in the desert and leave you with nothing but sand. There was no comfort there. No semblance of a promise.

The light snow crunches under your steps back to the truck, your breath swirling in small clouds around you. You yank your bag out from the backseat and slam the door as Logan did, hearing the sound echo into the wind before dissipating into nothing.

If you focused heard enough, you could probably hear your heartbeat. That’s how silent it is.

“Creepy,” you mumble to yourself as you follow the imprints of Logan’s footsteps back to the cabin.

You go up the few rickety stairs, stomping your shoes clean on the equally rickety deck, and open the squeaky door.

It’s definitely not a space that’s meant for more than two people.

It’s one level, open concept, and surely not heated by a furnace. The living room is directly to the left—you’re basically already standing in it—and a small kitchen is off to the right. The single bedroom straight ahead is the only room besides the bathroom that’s hidden behind walls and a door.

And that’s it. Simple. Efficient. No walls, no doors, save for the bedroom and bathroom. It’s surprisingly intimate.

“Please tell me there’s heat,” you lament, watching Logan dust off the few surfaces of fixtures and furniture as you toe off your wet shoes.

Logan gives you a look. “There’s a fireplace.” He gestures to the barren, ash-filled pit that sits at the bottom of the chimney in the corner of the room.

Above it, a mantle with a little T.V. “Cable?” You wonder aloud. This place is already more luxurious than what you had in Mexico, but at least in Mexico you didn’t have to worry about freezing to death in your sleep.

Logan limps along to the bedroom with his bag. “Satellite.”

You suck your tongue against your teeth, following Logan to the bedroom. When you step through the doorway, you almost cackle.

“Oh for fucks sake. We are never gonna fucking fit on that, Logan. Oh my God,” you moan in disbelief at the size of the bed. “You’re probably not even gonna fit on it.” Your voice pitches a little in exasperation.

The mattress was maybe a twin. Maybe. It’s propped up on a thin metal frame that creaks and groans as you experimentally lean forward on your hands and bear some weight on it.

“I do.” He tosses both your bags on the outdated armchair in the corner of the room.

Your entire lives are in those bags. You only brought what you needed and what could fit. There wasn’t much to bring along from Mexico besides clothes and the necessary toiletries anyway. Anything else can be found and replaced back in town if needed.

He steps back to the bed next to you. “Relax. There’s always the couch,” he points out. “We don’t have to sleep together.”

You have never slept apart—he knows that—and that’s definitely not going to start now. This time is precious.

You briefly recall the worn couch sitting in the middle of the living room in front of the fireplace: it’s a brown and red plaid pattern, probably from the 80s, and four cushions long.

This cabin was stuck in time just as much as Logan likes to say he is.

“Help me grab some wood to get a fire going,” he says, giving the top of your head a chaste kiss. “It’s supposed to snow again tonight.” He slips past you out the doorway, the warm, lingering touch of his hand on your shoulder sends a shiver through your body.

You saw a decent stack of pre-cut logs piled in the other corner of the living room when you came in, and you wonder who’s been taking care of things here while Logan’s been down south.

The wood looked fresh, but the dust on the coffee table and window ledges suggests no one’s been here for months.

You figure that dust is the least of Logan’s worries right now.

━━━━

The fire crackles and pops softly, the bright light from the T.V. illuminating the dark room as you comfortably watch the Flames game horizontally—on Logan—from the outdated couch.

The warmth from the flickering orange blaze in the chimney blankets you both, almost trying to melt you together like wax.

Logan lies on his back, legs spread to accommodate your body as you lay stomach-to-stomach, using his chest as a pillow while he uses the well-worn armrest as his.

It’s the middle of the second period and the game is tied 2-2. You can feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep even though the analog bird clock hung next to the T.V. shows it’s barely 11 p.m.

You know Logan isn’t asleep because he’s tracing a finger slowly up and down your spine. That’s what’s putting you to sleep, but the obnoxious ads pull you back into consciousness when the game cuts to commercial each time.

Despite the volume of the T.V., you can still hear the rattling in Logan’s lungs with each breath he takes.

The ear that’s pressed against his chest picks it up easily; it’s otherwise undetectable if you aren’t right up against him.

You don’t want to forget that this isn’t, in fact, a fun little vacation that you’ll both return to Mexico from. This is where Logan will spend the rest of his days with you. There is no going back to Mexico, no future anywhere but here within these walls.

Logan will die here. Like he wants to—at home, with you, surrounded by snow.

“Are you tired?” You say quietly. Your eyes aren’t even open as you ask.

A small chuckle makes your head vibrate. “I’m always tired,” he rasps, his voice rumbling deeply in his chest against your ear.

“Want me to put you to sleep?” You offer, thumbing the material of his flannel, eyes still closed.

He shifts, adjusting his neck. “No. I’m fine,” he explains, and you’re curious to see if he will fall asleep as easy as you can make him.

All it takes is a touch of a finger and a whispered command for him to slip into near unbreakable unconsciousness that lasts throughout the night.

You hum. “If you need it, just wake me if I’m asleep,” you reassure.

Almost every night in Mexico you’d knock him out cold, only you didn’t have to use a punch to do so. The press of your finger against his temple was enough. If he was in better health maybe it would take a bit more concentration and demanding, but it’s quick, nearly effortless.

Somnous is all you need to say—sleep. And his body can’t resist the surge of the pseudo-sedative that comes from within you.

━━━━

A chill that you’ve never felt before wakes you. It’s one that can only come with negative temperatures seeping back into the cabin.

Your body tenses and you peel your eyes open. The faint glow of red coals pulsing in front of you quickly tells you that no one made it off the couch last night, that no one slept on that sad excuse of a bed in the next room.

You and Logan are right where you left each other.

Logan breathes steadily under you, that rattling in his lungs still present even in sleep. It never wavers. It will never go away.

You try to carefully peel yourself off of him, stifling a groan as your limbs stretch and twist for the first time in hours. The tightness in your shoulders makes you clench your teeth.

A few pops and cracks release from your joints, and then you’re free from Logan’s warmth. From the looks of it, he seems comfortable, but you know he’s going to complain about his back and neck as soon as he wakes up.

Thankfully, you’ll help him with that, just like his sleep. Just like you do with everything else.

Remedium, you’ll mutter as your fingers trace along his temple. Relief.

You can fix the superficial—a sore neck, a headache—but you can’t fix something that’s as embedded and chronic as what’s killing him.

You’re the cure. The cure for everything except whatever is festering inside him. He says it’s the adamantium, that it’s poisoning him, but you can’t say for sure.

The early morning sun, all pinks and oranges, shines brightly through the large windows around the cabin. Then you see the snow falling.

You tip-toe to the window across from the couch. It’s been snowing since 3 a.m., but you weren’t awake to see it start.

Thick, fluffy snowflakes wisp around in the light wind and you lean closer to the window to get a better look at the scene outside.

You arrived late in the afternoon yesterday, missing the morning snow that blanketed the ground and decorated the trees.

Logan’s seen many winters come and go, and you’ll see just as many after he’s gone. Well, maybe not as many.

A deep groan fills your ears. “Ah—fuck,” Logan growls, pulling himself to sit up from the couch.

You skip excitedly over to him, bending down to cradle his head in your hands and press your thumbs against each temple, your lips meeting the top of his head in a brief kiss.

“Remedium,” you whisper into his hair, and he makes a satisfied sound in response as his body adjusts and fixes itself.

You move down to kiss his forehead, ruffling a hand through his bushy grey hair before pulling away and going back to the window to watch the snow spiral and churn in random shapes and patterns.

A grumbled “thanks” is heard over your footsteps. He’s probably not even fully awake yet.

“Look at the snow. Look,” you say in awe when you hear him shuffling along the creaky floor behind you.

It doesn’t look like anything special to Logan. He’s seen every type of snow, every type of storm Alberta has to throw his way; however, this may be the most mundane snowfall he’s seen that he can remember.

“What about it?” He says. He doesn’t know what’s got you so excitable.

You look at him over your shoulder. “I’ve never seen a snowfall before,” you explain. “The snowflakes are so fat,” you chuckle as he comes to rest a hand on your lower back, peeking through the window over your shoulder at the snow dancing in the wind.

“Mhm, it’s nice.” He still doesn’t get it. “Go get ready. There’s more wood coming in a bit,” he dismisses with a gentle kiss to your cheek, dense beard poking into the plush skin.

He goes to the bedroom. You should follow, but you keep watching the snow.

In the moment, you don’t realize that while this is your first snowfall, it’s probably Logan’s last.

━━━━

The man who brings the firewood is also the one who’s been “looking after” the cabin for Logan.

They’ve known each other for years, decades, and the man has been doing monthly check-in’s despite Logan not even being in the country.

Logan muttered something about cage fighting, explaining how he knows the man and the bar he owns in town.

You make a face, one filled with curiosity and confusion. “Cage fighting?”

“It was a long time ago,” he defends, tossing the last logs onto the now vast pile in the living room. You now understand why the room is as big as it is.

“Still keeping secrets, huh?” You joke, wiping your hands on your sweater.

A new fire burns strong in the chimney, preparing the cabin for the wind storm that’s meant to hit in a few hours.

“It’s not important.” Logan unbuttons his flannel—today it’s a dark red one; truly Canadian—and strips to his white tank-top underneath.

It’s almost jarring to see him in anything other than a white dress shirt and blazer.

He throws the flannel on the back of the couch, overheated from the fire and throwing logs. A vicious cough catches in his throat for an exhale or two before it finds its way out.

“You okay?” You ask calmly, walking up to him and rubbing a hand up and down his bicep. His skin clammy and damp from sweat.

“I’m fine.” Another aggressive cough. “I’m fine,” he emphasizes, mostly to reassure himself.

You both know he’s not okay. That’s why you’re here, after all. But you can’t stop yourself from asking.

━━━━

The wind storm knocked out the power.

The raging fire will probably be your only source of light for the rest of the night and into the morning.

So, without power, there’s not much to do. But, you and Logan sit on the floor with him resting against the front of the couch. You sit between his legs, feeling the heat of him on your back while you watch his arms reach over and around you to set various sized coins on the coffee table to entertain—and educate, as he would say—you.

“That one’s so big,” you point out, reaching for the gold coin.

Logan wants to make a joke so badly, but he settles for a small smile at what little he can see of your perplexed expression from the side, resting his chin on your shoulder every couple minutes and occasionally pressing little kisses to your neck and jaw just to remind himself you’re actually here.

You pick up the gold coin and turn it over in between your fingers, watching it shine in the firelight.

The bird on the face of the coin is unfamiliar, and it’s dated “2000” on the back below the Queen’s face.

“It’s a loon,” Logan clarifies. “One dollar.”

“It’s pretty.”

“We call it a ‘loonie’,” he explains, “and this is a toonie.” He picks up the other large coin, one that’s silver with a gold center.

You take it from him. “A polar bear?” You observe the face of the coin. “There’s polar bears in Canada?” You turn your attention to him, nose almost grazing his.

“You…didn’t know that?”

“Why would I know that?”

Logan chuckles, snaking an arm around your waist. “Well. It’s where most of the population lives,” he defends, his hazel eyes almost looking as confused as yours.

“Good to know,” you mutter, placing the coin back on the table.

He shakes his head. “Quarter, nickel, penny, dime.” Logan identifies the rest of the coins for you, pointing to each from biggest to smallest.

“The dimes are cute.” You push the thin, silver coin around on the table.

His tattered wallet sits on the corner by your arm, and something peeks out from the bill slot that you paid no mind to before.

“You have Canadian bills?” You ask as you pinch the thing between your thumb and forefinger, snatching it before he could answer or stop you.

You unfold the worn thing with ease, holding it with both hands and expecting to see a historic figure or a bold number printed somewhere, but there’s neither.

The paper is a little thicker than a bank note yet it’s almost the same size, but it has Logan with a young girl plastered on it in black and white.

An old photo, folded up and kept in his wallet as a reminder of something, or someone.

“Who’s that?” You question, analyzing the picture with a seizing heart.

Logan doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t move to take the picture from your hands.

It’s him, decades younger, giving the young girl a piggyback. An uncharacteristic smile on his face that you’ve never seen before while the girl peeks her head out beside his for the photo.

“Marie. She was a kid I, uh, helped, I guess.” The deep timbre of his voice is enough to tell you that he’s suddenly forlorn. “One of Charles’ students.”

“You’re so…young,” you consider quietly, eyes filling with adoration and fondness at the boyish Wolverine in your hand.

You never knew what Logan looked like in his younger years, and it never occurred to you to be curious about that. You’ve grown so used to your Logan that nothing before all this mattered much to you.

Still, there was someone else who got to experience the younger, more spirited version of Logan that only exists in pictures now, and you long to have been that lucky someone just to be able to have had more time with him.

But this is your Logan; scarred, aching, dying. This Logan was meant to be yours.

The Logan that stares at you from the wrinkled picture is barely recognizable against the one behind you, yet he’s still somehow the same. It’s like seeing a ghost after saying you don’t believe in them: you don’t really know how to explain it.

“And your hair is…” You squint at the photo, as if that will help you to find the right word to describe the quaffed points peaking from his head.

“Fucking ridiculous?” He finishes.

You laugh. “Well, I was maybe gonna say majestic. Or even sublime,” you correct.

The photo is creased along the edges and down the middle from being continuously opened and refolded, and you wonder how old it is—if it’s older than you.

“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago,” he exhales, stealing the photo from your fingers and folding it back up, making sure to bury it completely back in the wallet this time.

“Where is she now?” You know you shouldn’t ask but the curiosity is clawing at you. What you know of Logan’s past is extremely limited, but there’s a reason for that. You’re hoping he can at least give you this.

Logan’s shoulders grow taut. He debates lying, but he doesn’t. “Dead.”

━━━━

“Logan?”

No answer.

“Logan,” you say more firmly.

No answer.

“James,” you throw at him, watching his head quirk to meet your voice.

“What?” He barks, quickly averting his attention back to whatever holds his attention in his lap.

You hesitate in the bedroom doorway, afraid of what you might see if you take another step, but you already know what it’s going to be. It was only a matter of time before Logan fell back into himself.

Logan sits on the creaky, old bed with his back to you, a tremble in his shoulders that no one else besides you would notice. He hates that you notice.

You lightly tiptoe around the bed and drop into a squat between his legs, resting a hand on his knee.

Three adamantium claws occupy the space between you, blood slowly dripping from his knuckles and staining the wood floor. His eyes stay on the claws, but you keep your gaze on his face anyway.

His fist shakes, either from the pain of pulling his claws out or the atrophying muscles.

“There’s no reason to keep doing that…that’s not what we came here for,” you gently scold, watching him take a shaky breath while you try to control your own.

You came here to escape the pain, even if you’ll inevitably face something far worse down the road.

He does this when he feels helpless. You don’t know what it achieves, but he seems to believe it does something other than marring his skin even more and making his forearm burn with white-hot pain from metal sliding against his aged tendons and ligaments.

“Put them away. Please,” you encourage, squeezing his knee comfortingly.

Logan closes his eyes. He doesn’t nod or say anything as the claws retract back into his skin, albeit at a snails pace. You worry that one day they’ll just get stuck in or out forever.

You can’t influence his body to physically repair itself or heal faster—you can only provide a barrier to the pain while it subsides on its own.

You stand, hand reaching for his temple to whisper the magic word like always, but Logan’s bloodied fingers wrap around your wrist.

His eyes finally meet yours. “No. Leave it,” he dismisses, sliding his hand up into yours and smearing the warm blood between your joined palms and linked fingers.

It’s futile to argue against him, so you let him have this; the pain he hasn’t been able to shake for years, the pain you can’t entirely stifle and fade, the pain he would never wish upon anyone, the pain he will only escape in death.

━━━━

“I can let you go,” you cry softly.

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger when he feels your hot tears fall against his bare chest one after the other.

It’s one of those mornings—where everything just hits you out of nowhere. One of those times where reality has set in.

Logan doesn’t say anything because he knows there’s nothing he can say to comfort you. He will die. And nothing can change that.

You lie on him, your cheek to the middle of his chest, unable to stop the silent, persistent tears.

The rickety bed, in fact, holds both of you, and a soft cotton blanket does little to save you from the frigid morning air that has snuck into the cabin yet again.

“I can’t do it,” you whimper quietly, shaking your head against him. “I can’t.”

He wraps both arms around you tightly, squeezing around your shoulders so snuggly that your lips form one of those sad, downturned smiles you make when you’re overwhelmed—happy or sad.

“We don’t really have a choice, baby,” he mutters against your head.

A gentle finger traces along the textured, angry scars over his bicep. There’s one that’s older, almost entirely white from the trauma to the skin. A small, round one sits directly above it—most likely from a bullet—and you know it’s more recent from how raised and pink it is.

It feels wrong to have Logan comforting you over his death when it’s him who will be the one dying, but he hasn’t shown any panic or sadness over it.

He’s ready to die. For some reason, that hurts you more.

Maybe he will make it long enough to see the first flowers of spring; those that are strong enough to brave the Canadian frost.

Maybe, somehow, he will get better. Heal himself from the inside out.

Maybe he won’t end up buried underneath the birch trees.

━━━━

You both barely left the bed today.

You let each other mourn, and Logan didn’t protest. He let you take the time to process what you were feeling. It felt good for him, too.

He reluctantly had to get out of bed to stoke the fire a few times, and now he’s gone to do so again before you call it a night. An early night. You’re worn out. From crying, from feeling, from everything.

The wind has picked up again, howling and whipping harshly against the cabin. It’s supposed to snow in a few hours, but you don’t feel excited for it like you did a few days ago.

“That should burn all night,” Logan says as he comes back in the room.

You shuffle over on the bed for him. You don’t really fit, but you make it work by half-lying on each other. Either your upper body lays on his chest or his upper body has you almost tucked underneath him while he spoons you.

“Thank you,” you murmur with your eyes already closed, ready to forget about today.

The bed frame groans as Logan shuffles in beside you, slipping an arm around your midsection to pull you to tight against him.

Despite the cold, and the fact that you both should definitely be wearing fleece pyjamas or something, you’re both almost entirely bare. It’s just habit. You usually opt to wear one of his tank tops while he just keeps his briefs. It’s familiar. It’s comforting. The skin-to-skin reminds you both that you’re real.

Tonight, however, you chose his white t-shirt. As if that will do you any better. Logan runs fairly hot on his own, so you ultimately trust him to keep you warm either way.

He nestles into you, curling his body around yours. He slots a leg between your own and situates you so that your ass is pressed against his front. You know it doesn’t mean what you think it does, but you can’t help yourself from jokingly wiggling back and forth against him a few times just for fun—just to lighten the solemn mood.

Logan kisses your shoulder, the hand around your midsection squeezing the flesh of your stomach through the shirt affectionately while pushing you tighter against him.

“Yeah, yeah. Get some sleep,” he dismisses. He knows you’re just fucking with him.

You giggle quietly, interlacing your fingers with the ones he has against your stomach and turning to look over your shoulder at him. “Love you.”

His face softens. “Love you.”

You pucker your lips dramatically. He gives you an eager kiss, placing small pecks gently down along your cheek and jaw when you break away to smile.

Logan will never deny you of his attention when you ask for it.

━━━━

Something pushes you out of a heavy sleep. You figure it was maybe the wind or a dream, but you feel it again. Something literally pushes you.

You blink a few times, trying to wake yourself up. Logan’s arm is still thrown around you, but it’s now fallen down over your hip. The weight of it keeps you in place.

Another push.

Logan’s hips shove against your ass. You furrow your brows.

You know he’s sleeping without needing to look or ask, so what the fuck is he doing—

A more delicate thrust rolls against you this time, then you realize. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” you sigh.

“Logan.” You poke his thigh. No response.

“Logan,” you growl, reaching back and pushing a hand against his firm stomach to shake him a bit.

A series of grunts and groans are his response. He pulls back from you a little, hand tightening against your hip.

“Mm. What?” He mumbles, eyes still closed.

“Stop trying to fuck me in your sleep,” you hiss through a breath, repositioning yourself against him.

“I’m not,” he says, nuzzling up to your back and ass again, half-asleep.

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see it. “Yes, you are,” you counter.

It’s probably just some sex dream that got him a little too excited. The thought makes you smile.

It has, in fact, been longer than usual since you’ve fucked, the last time being in the truck when you pulled over at a rest stop in Montana, and you wonder if he’s starting to feel the effects of that.

By the time you reached Montana, you were both antsy and restless. The days, and even nights, were naturally spent just sitting in the truck for hours on end with nothing to do—no way to stimulate or tire your bodies.

The final night in the state was the breaking point. You had unburned, pent-up energy and cramping muscles that needed to be worn out if you wanted to survive the last day on the road before you got to the border.

So you pulled over and fucked in the passenger seat.

Logan let you bounce on his cock until the lactic acid in your thighs made you cry out in pain and you physically couldn’t ride him anymore.

He made you drag it out—for both of your sakes. He wanted your hearts to pump hard and your lungs to sting with each inhale. He wanted your bodies to be fucked into a state of relaxation afterwards.

So, he didn’t help you ride him like he usually does. He didn’t help guide you by your hips up and down his cock. He let you do it all by yourself while he licked and sucked over your collarbones and teased your clit with his fingers.

You both came hard, laughing at the fogged-up windows while cleaning yourselves up with those rough, brown napkins everyone has in their glove compartment for some reason.

Then you continued on, satisfied.

All of this has kind of thrown off your sense of normality. Sex went with that. It’s hard to be horny when you’re sad all the time.

You suppose you don’t need to wonder if he’s feeling the effects of no sex because you’re feeling them for him; his hard cock rests in his briefs against your ass, and you debate doing something you know you’re gonna do anyway.

Just like earlier, you circle your ass over him lightly, hopefully just enough for some payback for waking you up. You assume he’ll tell you to knock it off.

“Baby,” he mutters against the back of your neck tiredly, and you can tell he’s in need of a release.

You smirk. “Hm?” You rub harder over him.

He subtly joins in with your movements, rocking in time with you. His cock feels warm and heavy against your ass.

“Good dream?” You ask, a smile evident in your voice.

Logan grabs at the meat of your thigh, measuring his thrusts. “It’s…been a while,” he deflects, but you know that just means he’s in need of an orgasm.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you apologize, swallowing a gasp as he ruts harder.

“Not your fault,” he breathes, too preoccupied with kissing your neck softly. His beard tickles you, grazing against the slope of your neck with each kiss he drags over it.

His broad, warm chest keeps you from drifting off too far. Your cunt pulses and aches from the tease of his cock, undoubtedly soaking your underwear as he rubs along the space that’s just shy of your cunt. This is somehow more erotic than if he was actually fucking himself over your pussy between your thighs.

The bed creaks with his shifting weight, filling the silence in the room as the wind still beats against the cabin.

It’s never mindless, chaotic sex with Logan. Technically, this isn’t even sex.

He always gave you an appropriate fucking. Not too much, not too little. It was always just exactly what you both needed at the time of doing it. This feels no different.

You can feel your underwear sticking to you—it no longer slides with his desperate movements. You’d be content with finishing whatever way Logan wants. These days, you take what you can get.

“Too tired.” For sex, he means. “Just wanna feel you.” He caresses his hand along your thigh appreciatively.

You grab his wandering hand. “That’s okay,” you soothe.

His hips have slowed to a gentle rock, intent on taking a bit of the edge off without wanting to fully commit to chasing an orgasm and needing a clean-up.

Logan isn’t really one to drop everything for sex. Maybe he was like that at some point, but that’s not who he is now.

He’ll gladly blue-ball himself for some sleep. He knows you’re not going anywhere.

You let him feel you up for a bit, and his movements stop altogether after a few gropes to your chest and thighs—purposefully avoiding anything directly below your bellybutton.

He rests behind you tightly, pelvis somehow closer than before. You still throb a little, but the warmth from Logan gradually pulls you back to a state of exhaustion.

━━━━

It’s never been lost on you that you are the only one to have experienced a full, complete relationship with Logan.

You didn’t die, or get killed. You didn’t leave him or grow old. You are the only one to have this moment. The seemingly immortal Wolverine has someone at the end of his life when he thought he never would.

He never expected to be the one to go first. It was always the other way around. That’s how it was always supposed to be.

Yet, there is a spot slowly thawing for him underneath the white birch trees.

here’s the photo reader pulled out of logan’s wallet <3

#wow what a cozy winter fic!!! right gang!!!!#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #logan howlett x you #xmen x reader #xmen smut #old man logan x reader #old man logan smut #logan howlett fanfiction #marvel smut #hugh jackman x reader

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ivvyela · 5 months ago

Text

imagine with me, if you will, a nwh potential fix-it involving none other than the multiverse saving duo deadpool and wolverine.

i know, i know - but please, let me cook.

wade and logan now jump across timelines to "fix" things aka travel the multiverse for funsies and deal with the consequences later and somehow end up in a universe where peter parker doesn't exist, but spider-man does. and wade, blessed with the power of "i know this for the plot", immediately knows that is bull. shit. and sure enough, they find one very depressed, very lonely, and very jaded peter parker.

after much annoyance, light stalking, and following spider-man while he's on patrol, they get peter to spill how he ended up in this situation. and after hearing everything, logan breaks the silence with a simple, yet effective: "shit, kid. that... shit."

"yeah, well... now you know, so you can, like, leave me alone."

"nope, not gonna happen." wade shakes his head and tactfully ignores logan's imploring look of what-the-fuck-are-you-getting-us-into-now "i take my job as marvel jesus very, very seriously, so frankly, this is my job to fix your sorry little life, buddy. and if flat-out telling them you exist didn't work, then - "

"oh, i actually... i never told them."

"...come again?"

"i tried to tell them, but i couldn't. so..."

"i'm sorry... your best friend and girlfriend were crying, telling you to come find them and remind them of you, and you chose not to?"

"they're happy and safe without me! i wasn't going to ruin - "

"oh my god. you sweet, self sacrificial, idiot spider-baby. okay! we can fix this! we're no tony stark, but consider us your pseudo daddies for the time being, kid. let's get you your life back."

which is how one very emotional and determined deadpool, followed by a stoic, nonchalant wolverine (who, in all honesty, probably should be completely against this, but once wade commits to something, he can't be talked out of it, and the sooner he gets his fix from this the sooner he can go home, so fuck it we ball), end up in a certain cafe, all up in a poor barista and her friend's face with a cut-out yearbook photo of some kid, yelling "LOOK AT HIM! LOOK AT THIS BOY! HE'S SO LONELY! LIKE A SMALL, FORLORN, VICTORIAN CHILD! REMEMBER HIM, GODDAMMIT!"

(their efforts result in two confused and scared teens, and getting kicked out of said cafe.)

peter practically begs them to just leave him alone, that this was his choice, and he's fine with it, but both wade and logan know a lie when they hear one. they both know what being alone can do to a person, and peter is just a kid who got dealt the shittiest cards in life and at this point, it just feels wrong to leave him here without trying to do something. and maybe they both have a small soft spot for the teen, so what?

and peter knows both men can see through his broody, teenage angst front he's been putting up since the spell, and he's tried so hard to hate the two of them, get them to hate him so they would leave, but they're not budging, so really, there's no point in trying to push them away, right?

and so, he lets them in. he learns that while logan is stoic and intense and kinda terrifying, he's also someone who just wants to do the right thing for the people he cares about. he's also lost people, and he blames himself, but he's come out on the other side. he would tell peter about his daughter, laura, who wouldn't let him wallow in self pity because she is good, better than he has ever been. he never saw himself as a father, but she's still around, so he must be doing alright.

and at first hearing it would result in a pang in his chest, memories of thai food after walking into a smoke-filled kitchen, assurances that things will work out when everything feels hopeless, a tombstone that can never convey everything she was, but now... it's nice to hear that logan still had someone after losing everyone.

so, peter listens to logan's stories. in return, peter tells logan all about his mom.

and wade was brash and loud and conceded and really, really annoying, but he's... no, that's it. he's all of those things, but in a weird way, it's like all those bad qualities merge together to make him a good guy. and yeah, he can walk away at any point, he has absolutely no obligation to help peter, but he does it anyway.

("nonono, don't you dare make me some selfless hero type, kid. i know for a fact that every deadpool has a peter. i'm doing this for the me in your world."

"you're... huh?"

"bottom line, i'm a selfish bastard. i'm doing this for me, 'kay?")

peter didn't fight it. he's had experience with seemingly self-absorbed, deflecting type heroes.

wade doesn't replace him, not even close, but... still.

maybe peter will never get back what he lost. but, for the first time, peter sees a light at the end of the tunnel. that, maybe, he can stop being just spider-man, and he can start being peter parker again, too.

(and if there's a barista talking to her friend about how it's weird that two guys would show up holding a photo of an odd customer from weeks ago, demanding they remember him, and despite not knowing him she felt something, and her friend couldn't help but agree, well... that's neither here nor there.)

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uglypastels · 5 months ago

Note

can you do a mutant fem reader x logan but her powers are like bens from the umbrella academy and but readers like shy/kind kinda crybaby personality <333

a short but sweet blurb <3

warnings: struggles with powers. over-exhaustion

~ X-Men requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

Missions were not exactly a school trip, you were very well aware of that, but you had expected them to go a bit better. To get some kind of enjoyment or satisfaction out of them. Instead, the sheer thought of having to go to battle made you sick. At least when it involves your abilities.

Hand-to-hand combat you were alright with. You had, after all, trained for years to be able to disarm any prick with a silly little gun that would come at you. And your skills with a blade weren’t too bad either, but when things turned for the worst and the situation called for your powers, you’d rather sink into the ground.

And it was not all because of the physical discomfort that the tentacles brought. After enough experiences you had gotten used to the quite literal gut-wrenching and pulling that came with it. It was the fact you had no way of controlling them once they appeared. It always took such immense physical and mental strain to direct them, not to mention retract them again, that it took days for you to get back to normal.

You could usually tell when it would be a particularly bad case. Like right now, as you screamed with all your might, trying to push the monster inside you back where it belonged. The scream could have been enough to daze most of your enemies, and so you were sure that after some rest, the others would want you to pursue some training in that department to see what kind of damage you could do with your voice. Since that’s all you were good for— a weapon of destruction.

The scream kept on going until you couldn’t take it any further. There was the familiar release in your abdomen; everything around you fell to silence as you fell to your knees. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you, and at the contact, you could not help but wince.

‘Shh, it’s alright, I got you.’ It was Logan. With an ease that never failed to impress you, he picked you up in his arms. He could feel you shaking, and you were unable to keep your eyes open for longer than a few seconds at a time. Just like he had thought, the effects of using your powers so extensively were taking a toll on you. That much was clear, but no one ever listened to him.

‘Stay with me, sweetheart.’ He wiped some of your hair from your face. ‘You’re save now.’

‘Logan?’ your voice came out so weak it nearly made his own legs buckle.

‘I’m right here.’ He spoke softly, letting his lips hover over your face so you could not only hear his heartfelt words, but also feel them as his breath tickled your burning cheeks. ‘Let’s get you home, hmm.’

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

#logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #x-men fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #fluff #imagine #request #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine #wolverine fanfic #x men #x men fanfiction

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white-sinner · 2 years ago

Text

yandere nerd classmate

x male reader

WARNING: willing reader, sadic reader,yandere getting caught, dom reader, sex, dirty thoughts, dirty dreams

A/N;so my younger brother gave me this idea we were basically talking and all of a sudden he blurts out “you know sometimes you scare me with these macabre things you say” several times he described me as sadistic so thanks little brother for the idea?

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a very shy boy meets a goth boy who will save him from bullies in his freshman year of high school only to find out that they are in class together the innocent nerd's obsession turns into something perverse but he is sure that he will take the decisions?

yandere nerd classmate:who has a crush on you since you two started high school now you're in your senior year and he's so sad he knows he needs to make you his but every time he tries to talk to you or get close his cheeks are all red and smears himself with his own words….poor stupid puppy

yandere nerd classmate: who gets distracted in class by his dirty little thoughts of you fucking him without caring about his enjoyment while you fill him full of your cum and he under you crying and sobbing

Yandere Nerd ClassMate: who is very good at digitally drawing literally a whole folder dedicated to porn drawings about you

yandere nerd classmate: who got a boner when you protected him from a bully your tone of voice so dark the threats towards the bullies and him on the ground behind you luckily he was on his lunch break so he had time to go to the bathroom to basturbarsi as he wanted at that moment to make a video of him masturbating and moaning in a public place thinking of you and then send it to you

“you are really pathetic to bully a person because your stupid dickheads can't even do two math exercises... *smile* let me just say it once and make it clear if you don't leave him alone i'll read you first on a chair cuts your friend's neck and I'll watch his blood flow as he screams in pain, then I'll remove his internal organs, slit his belly and make you choke on them, that would be a fun scene to watch, right? well maybe not for you but for me definitely yes”

yandere nerd classmate: that i start following you to your house stalking your social media well let's just say he wasn't really good at this stuff he was really pitiful but you didn't seem to mind of course he could have been a slut normally and told you he liked you but you decided to let him do it unfounded and let your prey live in his fantasy before killing him

yandere nerd classmate: that one day he decided to put his plan into action by following you in the school parking lot (you could literally hear him shaking and stumbling in his footsteps) and then attack you with a syringe full of sleeping pills but you caught him and crushed him at the wall

“w-what”

“what were you trying to do with this syringe, puppy”

“n-not-“

“don't lie I know exactly what you've been doing since the start of the new semester Logan*

*Logan looks down embarrassed*

“get into my car ”

“M/N wh-“

“I don't think i asked a question it was an order, enter in the car NOW”

after leading him to your house you let him in and kissed him by dominating him with your tongue making him almost suffocate

"well look at the drool that drips from his mouth"

*you slap him on the ass*

"you look like a puppy in heat"

"M/N please"

"mmmh? please what Logan do you need to use your words “

“come on you know don't make me say it's awkward”

Logan was mystified nothing had gone to plan but he really liked this twist so he decided to turn things around by looking away from you and trying to take control to which you replied slapping his ass again

“HICK”

“who told you you were the one in control”

at that moment Logan couldn't take it anymore he really wanted you to fuck him

“please… . you can fuck me…”

“ well finally you seem to obey “

having said that you dragged him with force creating a mark on his wrist to which he did nothing his crush was about to fuck him and branding him his what more could he want?

"Let's take these clothes off"

it was now past what seemed like hours to Logan you were overstimulating him and you weren't into him yet!

“M/N please put it in me!”

“aww but you're a little virgin if I put it inside it could hurt you”

“I don't care! I do not care!"

"ok little bitch calm down"

so you stuck all your cock inside him he started crying and you fucked him so fast that by now his mind was mush "well if you like him so much you could become my malewife by now the studies are finished"

"yes!yesyyes! i want eswhe your housewife M/N perfaw *moan*”

“you're such a slut”

and with these words he came and you looking at his face I did the same your hot sperm that mixed with that of before and before in short now Logan and Logan really realized all his dreams

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#male reader #yandere x male reader #male x male #male x reader #male y/n #x male smut #yandere male #x male top reader #sub yandere #yandere oc #oc stuff #original character

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areyouwell · 1 day ago

Text

In Tuto Esse

Ch.4

Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <-

Warnings: None

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!F!Reader

Word Count: 14k

A/N: so this was ready sooner than i thought it would be. but then again if i did everything i wanted to in this chapter it would probably be one of the longest ones i've ever written soooooo sometimes you just gotta snap the chapter plans in two <3

Taglist: @speeedybaby @ltristessedureratoujours @froggieeez @ayamenimthiriel @daddyslittlevillain @chubbyhedgehog @marifilue @galacticglitterglue @salemslostwitch @m1cky-y-y

What an absolute whirlwind the last few days had been. The last few weeks, Logan supposed as he fixed himself a strong cup of coffee, savouring the brief moment of silence, listening to the sound of boiling water sloshing into the mug, the comforting, burnt aroma rising like smoke from the beverage. He’d taken you back. Of course he had. How could he not? You’d taken a bullet for a child you didn’t even know. You’d saved her life at the expense of your own. Well, almost. That was still up for debate as you currently lay motionless beneath the school, hooked up to various machinery to make sure you didn’t actually give your life for little Wildling, despite Jean’s protests.

“How did you find us?” He asked frantically, cradling your limp body against his chest as he all but ran with you to the Blackbird, Wildling a few steps ahead, turning around now and then to make sure he was following. Jean had fallen into step next to him, glancing down from your pale form to Logan’s panic-stricken distraught with no small degree of suspicion.

“Charles was keeping tabs on you, knew the moment everything went south. What were you trying to accomplish?” she asked savagely, ducking as she lunged up the ramp and into the hold, waving her hand to send various duffle bags and parafanalia flying to the sides. “And who’s this?” She continued, gesturing to the little girl running around the floor, pushing what she could to the side, as little as it was.

“No clue, we call her Wildling.” Logan panted, setting you down on the steel before instantly cradling the wound in your side. He was losing you. He could hear it in the weakness of your pulse, the frigid feeling of your skin, the pallour of your face. He was losing you.

“We? Who the hell is we?”

“Us. Me and Alec. We don’t know the kid’s name and we don’t know if she can talk so we call her Wildling now please, help her.” He begged, finally looking from your fading visage up to Jean, his brows creasing in obvious fear. “Please…”

Jean hesitated, once again glancing between the two of you, before crouching down next to your dull hair, her hands hovering over your body and closing her eyes, grimacing slightly as she took in the state of your whittling life.

“Logan…”

“Don’t.”

“She’s not gonna–”

“Just fuckin’ help her, Jean. Do whatever the hell it is you gotta do, but don’t let her die. Don’t you dare let her die.” He snapped, taking your cold hand in his own, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles as if it could bring you back. Grief wrapped its bony claws around his throat, lacerations of loss-borne barbed wire ensnared his heart. He could feel you slipping, like sand through his fingers, he could feel you ebbing away. Fuck.

“There’s a bullet lodged in her gut, and I don’t know if I can pull it out without causing more harm,” Jean explained, Wildling peering at her curiously before scrunching her nose up tightly and bounding over to be back by Logan’s side, looking down at you with hopeless prayers.

“Will she die if it’s left in?” Logan asked, still running his thumb over your knuckles.

“Likely yes. Even if she recovers from the wound, the lead poisoning would kill her.” The redhead continued, not even turning to look as Kitty turned back from her seat pilot’s seat, her eyes widening as she saw just what the hell was going on, too focussed on getting the Blackbird back in the air to listen to the conversation properly.

“Wait… is that–”

“It is,” Jean responded curtly before Kitty could even say your name.

“And we’re trying to save her because…?”

“Ask Logan.” Once again her words were sharp, before she fell into deep concentration, her fingers flexing slightly as she tried to navigate the bullet from your body, while keeping your body functioning. Logan dully admitted how impressive it was, before his focus was entirely back to you, absently placing a comforting hand on Wildling’s shoulder. You didn’t know the effects you had on the people around you. It was clear to see how oblivious you were to it. And he’d be fucking damned if you died before he could tell you.

He slowly, hesitantly looked up to where Kitty had placed the jet on autopilot, fully turning in her seat to face him, her gaze curiously expectant. Wildling looked between the two of them, her ears twitching slightly as she sensed the tension in the room. But he didn’t have an explanation for her. He really didn’t. How could he explain that after the last day or so, he’d completely changed his tune? He needed you alive. What for, he didn’t know, but he knew that letting you die here wasn’t an option.

He just didn’t know how to put that into words.

A sickening crunch caught his attention, dragging his gaze from Kitty back to your wound, where, much to his alarm, incarnadine flowed from your side, swiftly followed by a slick, gore-coated bullet. He wished he could feel relieved. He wished he could feel anything other than deathly fear as the bullet floated from your body to the side, clinking against the ground. But it was out. It was out. Maybe you’d be okay. Maybe you’d survive this.

Maybe…

“Shit… shit shit!” Jean exclaimed, her eyes screwed tight as she concentrated harder on maintaining your life. “Kitty how far out are we?!” She called back, Logan’s heart racing in his chest.

“Five minutes, think you can hold her til then?” She shouted back, spinning back to face forward, taking back controls to push the Blackbird to its limits. Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he leaned over to cup the cold side of your neck, your pulse barely thumping against his fingertips.

“C’mon freakshow, you got so much to do. Think of ‘em. Think of those kids, just like you. You gotta help ‘em. Don’t you fucking dare give up now. You gotta fight, Alec. You still got so much fight in you. Use it.” He urged, not particularly caring if you could hear him or not. He knew nothing got you more fired up than injustice. Than the bullshit the MSR put mutants through. If anything would keep you alive, keep you fighting, it was thinking about that.

‘I’m so tired, Logan…’

Your words rang in his head, repeating like a broken record. You sounded shattered, fragile like glass in his arms, slicing his heart with your words. You’d done so much, suffered so much, and it still wasn’t enough for you. You were so scared of not making a difference that you were willing to risk it all, leave in the dead of night and track down hundreds of mutants alone.

But you didn’t have to be alone. Not anymore. You’d come to him for help, and somehow you’d wriggled your way through his defences and nestled yourself in his chest. He couldn’t let you go.

He wouldn’t.

“We’re nearly there. Just hold on for me. Just hold on,” He implored, whispering your name and smoothing your brow with his thumb, Wildling coming up next to him to clumsily repeat the gesture, careful of her claws against your skin. He would have found it endearing if he could focus on anything other than the fact you were dying.

“Just hold on…”

That was three days ago, and your status has been up in the air ever since. Hank had helped Jean with your recovery, bandaging your wound and in true creepy scientist fashion, acquiring a vial of your blood for studying. Nobody had been permitted to see you, not even him, and it was driving him crazy. Knowing you were a few feet below him, fighting for your life, whilst he was up above, making himself cups of coffee and smoking himself into an early grave. At least, that’s what would happen, if he could die. He’d managed to distract himself well enough, keeping tabs on little Wildling as she settled into her new environment, calmly explaining why scratching up other kids is bad, and playing nicely with them was good. He understood her, possibly more than anyone else possibly could. She had the instincts of an animal, much like him, exhibiting cat-like behaviours when she believed she was being threatened, or someone went a little too far in whatever game they were playing.

He’d learnt that she could retract her mutation too, but simply chose not to. He’d only seen her without her little ginger tail and pointed canines once, and that was after a fight with one of the other kids where she’d quite badly harmed them. Her guilt forced her to retreat into her new room, pushing down her instincts and hiding her mutation before Logan had to borderline break down the door to get to her. Why oh why the kids’ rooms had locks on them, he’d never understand, but it was heartbreaking in and of itself that she knew how to use it, and understood that it would make her feel safe. How many times had she had to do that in her life?

How many times had you?

“You’re up early…”

A honeyed voice broke the silence, and Logan looked up from where he’d been staring into his coffee. He turned to the doorway where Jean stood, her hand braced on the wooden frame, looking at him with a gaze softer than he’d ever experienced before. It made his insides twist.

“Yeah, well, couldn’t sleep.” He shrugged, offering no further explanation. He knew how she felt about having you here, and it didn’t seem to matter how well he retold the story of what happened that night, she never seemed to understand why he’d bring you here. It was a frustrating, repetitive conversation that drove him mad.

“You haven’t been sleeping at all, Logan. Not since you got back.” She prodded lightly, taking a few steps further into the kitchen, a hand braced loosely on her hip. “What’s going on?”

He shrugged again. “Nothin’ much. Never was a good sleeper.”

Jean narrowed her eyes, sighing heavily. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out because my opinion differs from yours. She’s dangerous, Logan. Extremely dangerous. Did you forget why we went after her in the first place? Did you forget the scenes of those murders? The savagery?” She attempted to explain gently, but her light tone only fuelled his frustration further, his hand tightening around his mug.

“If she’s so damn dangerous then why did she throw herself in the path of a bullet to save a kid she barely knew?” He countered with gritted teeth. “You don’t know her, Jean. You know what was on that slideshow and that’s it, you don’t–”

“Neither do you. I know it probably feels like you do, but you don’t. You don’t know somebody after spending twenty-four hours with them.” Her brows pinched in infuriating understanding, and not so long ago he would have fallen at her feet with just one of those looks. Now it made him want to punch through walls.

“We’re not having this conversation again.” He stated curtly, tensing his jaw to stop himself from lashing out. Jean sighed again, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear.

“You know she can’t stay.” Though her words were quiet, they were laced with more venom than he’d expect from her. “She’s a killer, Logan ––a serial killer, in fact. And you brought her to the school. With kids. You brought a serial killer here and expect us to help her out?” He could tell she was getting irate, her tone pitching at the end of her question, leaning both hands against the table as if she could implant the very idea into his brain.

Actually, she probably could.

“I was a killer too and you took me in.” He stated flatly, and Jean blinked, any frustration in her face ebbing away as she skirted around the table, placing a hand on his arm.

“You were different. You were helping Marie when we found you.”

“Alecto was helping Wildling. How is it different?” He countered, fighting the urge to swipe her hand off his arm, her touch cold, calculated. Almost manipulative.

“You called her something different on the jet. Her name isn’t Alecto, is it?” She asked, raising a thin brow as she caught him out.

“The hell does it matter?” He hissed, defensive walls erecting in his mind, cautious of her prodding and poking around his brain. You’d told him your name in confidence ––a whispered word in the dark, like a lover’s farewell. You’d told him your story. Perhaps not all of it, but you’d still found enough trust in him to divulge what you could. He’d be damned if he’d betray your trust like that.

“It doesn’t, I’m just curious.” Her eyes hardened as she stepped back, removing her hand from his arm. Had she seen? Had she seen what had happened between you? The shared passion beneath the blanket of loneliness. A bubble of secure pleasure created by the yearning to not just survive but to live. Could she sense his shift? The sudden wholeness of his heart. The new protective nature simmering just beneath his calm façade. And if she could, why did she look like she despised it?

“Good. Stay curious. And stay the hell outta my head, Jean. I mean it. Don’t wanna have to tell you again.” He growled, and Jean drew up slightly, her jaw tense, gaze fiery.

“Is that a threat?”

“Does it have to be?” He retorted, blood pumping in his veins as if he was ready to jump into a fight. Never did he imagine having to fight Jean. Never did he think there would be a time when he didn’t crave her attention. When he couldn’t stand being around her. The flip gave him whiplash, and he exhaled all the tension in his bones, raking a hand through his hair. “Sorry, ‘m just real tired. I’ll be alright in a few days.” He breathed, leaning against the counter.

The tension fled from the room as Jean’s eyes softened, her lips pulling into an understanding smile. “I get it. But don’t take too long. I miss the old you.” She whispered, and Logan’s heart reluctantly skipped a beat. Fuck, he was so confused. He thought he was over this. Thought he’d moved on from her, but now she wasn’t trying to pry into his mind, and it didn’t seem like she was playing games with him. The look in her eyes was one of genuine loss, and it messed with his head. Her hand returned to his arm, and he didn’t feel that same urge to pull away when she squeezed slightly, before turning away to leave him to his thoughts.

‘I miss the old you.’

The old him. He thought she didn’t like the old him. The version of him that would skip town at a moment’s notice. The version of him that pined after her like a lost puppy, begging for any scrap of attention she’d throw his way. Was it him she missed, or the way he made her feel wanted? The way he made her feel desirable. Was she being genuine, or was she just really fucking good at lying? Christ, this was a nightmare.

And on top of everything else, he still didn’t know just what the hell was going on with you and him. Because that was still a conversation that needed to be had. Was that just sex? Or was there something more there? You were extremely hard to read, your guarded expression a constant mask, he never knew what you were thinking. Did you feel what he was feeling? The slight pull at his heart whenever you were near. The gentle curiosity that maybe this could be something? Was that even possible? Could there be something?

Too many questions. Too many damn questions for seven in the morning. The sun had barely risen and his head had already been fucked with. Usually, the ‘old him’ would have just left. Stolen Scott’s bike and headed out god knows where for god knows how long. The freedom that came with not giving a damn. But now he did. And it scared the fuck out of him. But wasn’t that the him that Jean missed?

Logan groaned against the oncoming headache throbbing just behind his eyes. This was too complicated. Everything was too damn complicated. Why did you have to waltz into his life? With your endless fire and snippy attitude. Your yearning for freedom born of tragedy. Why oh why did you have to go ask him for help? Couldn’t you have asked Scott? Or Ororo? Why did it have to be him? Why did you get him mixed up in this twisted web of blood-soaked passion? Because he was well and truly stuck, and he couldn’t find the willpower to struggle.

And like a light in the darkness, Wildling came bounding through the door, leaping onto the table, her tail swishing like a metronome, eyes wide as saucers as she tracked every micro-movement he made. Just like that, his turmoil was shoved to the side, lips quirking in a fond smile as the kid’s ears flickered, her claws scratching into the table’s wooden surface. What did Marie call it? Zoomies? As if this kid didn’t have enough energy, every now and then she’d race through the mansion, bouncing off furniture, ducking and diving under tables and between chair-legs like she was chasing a rat. Usually in the middle of the night, when the rest of the occupants were dead asleep. He’d usually be the one to emerge from his room at the shattering of a vase or breaking of a glass, picking up the pieces and taking her out into the gardens so she could work off some of that energy.

It was exhausting but adorable, so he did it anyway.

He raised a brow, slowly placing down his completely untouched mug of coffee, knowing exactly what came next. And like clockwork, Wildling's butt wiggled slightly, before she pounced, claws outstretched, her canines glinting in the lights when her lips split into a feral grin. This had become a well-rehearsed tradition, Logan remaining still until the last possible moment before his arms shot out and caught her in mid-air, caging her against his chest for her to wiggle free. Claws met skin as she laughed in delight, ripping through his shirt as she clawed her way to freedom, sinking her teeth into his bicep. He didn’t mind. It was nothing more than a tickle to him, and if she was enjoying herself, then what was the harm?

Wildling scrambled up to his shoulders, writhing from his hold as he fought to drag her back down. Her resulting hiss held no heat, her bare feet slipping on the fabric of his singlet in various vain attempts to crawl up onto his head. A fatal mistake. With reflexes she wasn’t expecting, Logan snatched onto her ankle, dragging her from his shoulders to dangle her from his grip, her squeals of delight bouncing off the empty walls of the kitchen, little hands swiping and flailing as she attempted to bend up to latch onto his wrist. He huffed a chuckle when she managed to swing herself up, sinking her claws into his wrist to upright herself.

“You two seem to be getting along well.”

An oh so familiar voice shattered the playful atmosphere, both Logan and Wildling whipping their heads to the opposite doorway, his heart stopping in his chest.

You were here. You were okay. Not only that, but you were walking around freely…

You looked a little worse for wear, your hair mussed and slightly matted, complexion still a little pallid with dark circles contouring your eyes and a white bandage wrapped around the left side of your face, but you were here.

“You’re okay…” he breathed, gently setting Wildling down on the floor, the girl tilting her head as she looked at you, eyes wide with awe. He couldn’t articulate the relief he felt, the overwhelming sense of calm seeing you alive. But you couldn’t possibly be fully healed yet. Your mutation didn’t work like that. How much pain were you currently in just standing, let alone wandering the school’s halls. “Shit are you– do you wanna sit? How’re you–”

“I’m fine, Logan. Well, as fine as I can be with this bullshit on my wrist…” you held up your hand for emphasis, and the very blood in his veins ran cold. He knew what that was. He’d seen that very same technology on the necks of all those mutants held captive.

It was a suppressant. Not a huge one, but enough to slow your mutation to the point you could barely manipulate a single drop of blood. It felt like your insides had been stuffed into a box, held under lock and key. Uncomfortably full without the opportunity for release. Everything felt slow, sluggish, and it was a feeling you knew like the back of your hand. It had taken a lot of deep, calming breaths to stop your heart from beating straight out of your chest when you woke up shackled to a bed, the fucking suppressant clasped around your wrist like a manacle. But you didn’t need your mutation to pick a lock. Just a small enough blade, which luckily, whoever had been looking after you left lying on a small medical table right next to your bed.

Sometimes the fates really did shine in your favour. But only after shitting in your dinner.

“The fuck…?” He growled, crossing the kitchen to take your wrist in his hand, turning it over in his palm to examine the bracelet. “Why the fuck would they do this?” He looked from your wrist up to your face, suddenly struck with a bolt of lightning as he saw you completely raw. No makeup, no ebony mask, just you. Your hair hung limp, you looked as if you hadn’t slept in three weeks.

Holy fuck you were gorgeous.

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a dangerous serial killer with a thirst for human blood. Surprised it’s taken you this long to realise it,” you offered him a grin that didn’t quite meet your eyes. You looked defeated, that same expression you wore the night everything went wrong when you realised all your hard work may have been for nothing. It burned him to see it. The feeling of the bracelet on your wrist only fueled his barely contained rage. “I’m glad to see you’re both okay,” you whispered in a rare moment of vulnerability, and it took all of Logan’s self-control not to cup the side of your face in comfort. “I didn’t–”

Your eyes flew wide open, words caught in your throat as you snatched your hand away from his, arms locking tight by your sides. It was only when you started hovering a few feet off the ground did it register in his brain that it might not actually be you doing this. He locked his gaze with yours, your brows pinching as you gasped for breath, completely powerless.

“Logan step back. Now.” Jean barked, her eyes fixed on you, her hand outstretched as Scott filed in behind her, fingers poised on his sunglasses as if ready to strike. Logan gaped in utter incomprehensible bafflement.

“The fuck ‘re you doin’?” He spat, completely ignoring Jean’s command and instead stepping between you and the assailants, blocking whatever beam Scott was ready to unleash.

“She broke out. She fucking escaped and started wandering around the school. There are fucking kids here, Logan. And now a notorious serial killer is just walking amongst them. How can you not see that?” Scott spat, his other hand clenched into a fist as he prepared himself for whatever fight was about to ensue.

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? How dangerous can she be with that fuckin’ thing around her wrist? She’s defenseless, Scott!” He barked back, little Wildling bounding up to crouch next to him, her teeth bared in a completely different snarl to the one from before when she was just playing.

“Yeah? Tell that to Hank who’s currently lying unconscious on the same table she was recovering on.”

Logan blinked, taking a moment to turn back to you with an incredulous look. But you simply snarled, your eyes as animalistic and feral as Wildling’s. He knew that if you didn’t have that suppressant, they’d both be dead. Or knocked out, at least.

“Let her go, Jean.” He hissed, his tone taking on a dangerous lilt.

“Logan–”

“Now.”

Surprisingly enough, after a shared look of suspicion between the two of them, Jean loosened her grip on you, and you crumpled to your knees, breathing hard against the sudden release of tension. Wildling raced to your side, her little hands clutching your arm at while Logan crouched next to you, his own hand settling on your shoulder.

“Y’alright?” He murmured, wary of the two pairs of eyes watching the interaction between the two of you. You grit your teeth, staring unblinkingly at the floor momentarily, before pushing yourself back up to your feet, viciously shrugging off hit touch and even snatching your arm away from Wildling.

“I’m fine.” You bit, trying your fucking best not to bend double again in pain, the wound in your side screaming at all the movement. You’d injected yourself with 5mg of morphine to numb the pain before you’d started wandering around, but even that wasn’t quite enough to stem the searing agony from your wound.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Scott accused, taking a step ahead of Jean as if to shield her from whatever attack you may be planning.

“If you’d just give her a chance to explain–” Logan started before you interjected.

“I don’t have to explain anything to these chucklefucks. Just get this fucking bracelet off me so I can leave.” Your voice dripped venom, eyes glaring daggers at his two colleagues, and Logan found himself stuck in the middle. He had loyalties to them, of course he did. They’d fought side by side enough times for him to trust the two of them implicitly on the battlefield, but he knew your situation. He knew your story. And if you would just give each other a damn chance, maybe they’d see you the way he did.

Although, maybe not exactly the way he did. Even he didn’t know about that.

“And the moment we take that off, we’re all dead. So no.” Scott retaliated, and it was a strange feeling for Logan to suddenly be the mediator in an argument, rather than one of the contestants.

“Everyone just take a breath and calm down.” He breathed, trying it on himself before he expected the others to do it too. Even Wildling took a deep breath, though her tail was still puffed up and flicking like mad, her ears flattened against her hair. And though you didn’t relax your glare, he watched as your muscles stopped tensing so much, your stance straightening out from the slight crouch you’d prepared yourself with. It was only then that Scott took his fingers away from his glasses, folding his arms across his chest.

“What the hell is this…?”

You whipped around, your chest constricting as you found yourself cornered, another mutant with bright white hair cautiously entering the kitchen, her perceptive eyes flickering from Jean and Scott, to Logan and you, before her expression dawned with recognition. “Who let her out?!”

“Nobody, she escaped,” Scott explained oh so helpfully. Logan shoved down the instinct to punch him in the face.

“She escaped?!” Ororo exclaimed in accusation, her eyes narrowing at Logan. “Was this you?”

“How the hell could this’ve been me, you haven’t let me near the damn elevator, let alone in the med bay!” He countered, wary of your increasing heart rate and breathing. He turned to where you’d backed yourself into a corner, your eyes wild with fight or flight. “It’s okay… they’re not gonna hurt ya.”

“Wasn’t Hank supposed to be looking after her?” Ro continued, looking to Jean and Scott for further explanation.

“Yeah well, he’s currently unconscious in the med bay. Turns out she doesn’t need her mutation to be just as dangerous.” Jean narrowed her eyes as she spoke, a knife rack moving across the counter just as you made a reach for it. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Not gonna hurt me, huh?” You hissed sarcastically, and Logan shot you a withering look that simply said ‘You’re not helping.’

He took a step back toward you as the other took steps forward, hearing your heart thundering in your chest, it broke his own. This was somewhere you were supposed to feel safe, and yet this was the most scared he’d ever seen you. He’d promised you they’d take you in. They’d look after you. He’d look after you. But this was nothing like how he’d imagined these introductions going. However he didn’t know why he’d expected any different.

Before a stroke of genius came to him in a single moment.

“Jean, c’mon. You didn’t save her life for nothin’, right?”

That made the room freeze. He guessed she hadn’t told anyone what happened on the jet ––hadn’t told anyone how you were alive because of her. And from the look of betrayal on Scott’s face, and utter shock on Jean’s, this was the perfect moment to bring it up.

“You saved her life?”

“What the hell possessed you to do that?”

There was a chorus of confused accusations, but over the din he could sense you settle a little, hesitancy shifting your demeanour as you blinked.

“You saved my life? Why…?” Though your voice sounded small, it was as if you could stop time. The whole room focused on you again, and it was Jean’s turn to huff in frustration.

“Logan asked me to.” She said by way of explanation, and your gaze shifted from the redhead back to him, conflict raging in your eyes. He offered you a small, knowing smile with a slight shrug.

“Couldn’t let ya die, freakshow. Not after you saved her life.” He nodded to Wildling who was peering up at you with nothing but awestruck gratitude, her wide eyes glittering with a sense of wonder you’d only seen once before. On someone else. It made your heart clench.

“Oh, so she has a nickname now?” Scott slashed the sweet moment in half, and the room returned to fighting amongst themselves.

“Everyone gets a nickname, Slim.”

“Why don’t I have a nickname?”

“Haven’t thought of one yet.” Logan shrugged dismissively to Ororo, who was all but pouting at the realisation she didn’t have a nickname from Logan.

“I don’t think you should say mine out loud…” Jean confessed though the corner of her lips quirked into a barely concealed smirk, causing Scott to scoff loudly.

“Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

It was all you could do just watch the carnage, ensuing chaos you didn’t even cause. And remarkably, you felt all the tension in your body melt away at the realisation that these people weren’t as dangerous as you initially thought they were, and they sure as shit weren’t as threatening. You huffed a single chuckle, before another one bubbled from your chest, and it was a few moments before you were genuinely laughing, eyes screwed shut, head thrown back laughter. Wildling looked up at you with visible concern that you were losing your mind, but you couldn’t stop. Tears lined your eyes as you clutched your stomach, the pain from your side doing nothing to quell your amusement.

“You guys should start a sitcom, seriously. This shit is gold.” You managed to breathe, clutching the countertop for support as you finally regained control of your relentless giggling. “Sorry, sorry. I know the moment is very serious and everything, but there’s a ‘notorious serial killer’ standing in your kitchen and you’re all arguing over nicknames!” You implored them to see the hilarity of the situation, to which they all fell into contemplative silence, only Logan seemed to be looking at you, his eyes bright with something you couldn’t quite interpret.

“Yeah, well… this ‘notorious serial killer’ doesn’t seem as dangerous as we once thought…” Scott admitted begrudgingly, and you chortled again, snorting a laugh through your nose.

“That’s just what happens when you collar a beast,” you rolled your eyes, holding up your wrist for emphasis, still finding this whole situation ridiculous. “But, now that introductions are out of the way, how about we discuss getting this thing off me, hm?” You raised a brow, and Logan’s chest inflated with pride. You weren’t lashing out how he’d expected you to. In fact, you’d managed to set the whole room at whatever ease was possible simply by laughing at them. You were constantly going on about the trouble your mouth got you into, but he guessed you never realised how good it was at getting you out of trouble too.

You really did only acknowledge your own flaws, didn’t you?

“Look, this isn’t personal–”

“How could this not be personal?!” You exclaimed, interrupting Ororo, who took a steadying breath.

“We just… we don’t know where you stand. With the whole… killing, thing.”

You leaned back, pretending to examine your cracked nails. “It varies from moment to moment, I’ll admit.”

The whole room eyed you as if they couldn’t tell whether or not you were joking, and Logan had to close his eyes and breathe before he shook your shoulders and begged you not to make jokes at a time like this. But you sighed heavily, dropping your hand by your side.

“Look, I don’t have a quarrel with any of you. Sure, you tracked me down and interrupted my work which was really fucking annoying by the way. And I may have knocked one of you out, but I won’t apologise for that on account of doing Stray here a favour–” you nodded to Logan, who rolled his eyes playfully, a grin pulling at his lips as Scott spluttered in disbelief.

“Oh, he gets a nickname too?!”

“And so far, I don’t particularly want to fight any of you, especially with my mutation currently shoved to the side. I already tried to kill one of you and it didn’t go so well for me. At least, it didn’t at the time,” you smirked, sending Logan a provocative, heated look that he knew you did deliberately, just to get a rise out of the rest of the room.

Troublesome mouth indeed.

“But I really don’t wanna interrupt your daisy-chain-making, trauma-bonding, friendship-is-magic bullshit for any longer than I have to, so just get this shit off me, and I’ll be on my way, okay? Because quite frankly, it makes me want to throw up.”

Logan had never seen a mic-drop like it. You’d completely undermined his entire team’s way of life in one fell swoop. And whilst he would argue that it was much more than all that, you’d kind of hit the nail on the head. He’d had exactly the same thoughts when he’d first arrived. Couldn’t understand why anyone would choose this way of life. But slowly, one by one, these people had wormed their way into his heart.

Just like you had.

“Well… hard to argue with that. I don’t particularly want her around longer than she needs to be.” Jean commented with an air of snobbery that made you wonder if Logan was completely blind. How the hell could this woman be the apple of his eye? Sure she was hot, but so were many other women, mainly the ivory-haired one standing on the opposite side of her. Now she was hot.

Jean’s eyes narrowed to you, and you tilted your head in faux innocence, knowing exactly what she’d just done. You’d left your thoughts wide open for her, not that you could do much against her mind-prying anyway. But you revelled in how she drew herself up and puffed out her chest slightly, drawing Scott’s eye. And you revelled in the way her jaw tensed in frustration when Logan continued looking at you.

Oh, this would be fun. Maybe you should stick around for a while.

“We should take her to the Professor.” Ororo mused thoughtfully, and you rolled your eyes emphatically. Could these people do nothing without their precious Professor’s permission?

“He’s already aware of the situation. He’s waiting in his office.” Jean said stiffly, folding her arms beneath her chest to emphasise her breasts, and you barely managed to stifle your laughter, wondering what the female version of a dick-swinging contest was.

Scott and Ororo made to step towards you but were stopped by a savagely hissing Wildling, her claws scratching against the ground, back arched defensively as if to strike if they got any closer. Logan couldn’t suppress his smirk.

“Well, that told you.” He uttered, and you snorted as you recognised your exact words from the cabin, catching a look of bewilderment on Jean’s face. You were enjoying this far too much.

“Alright then, let’s go see the man himself. Not sure what good it’ll do…” You huffed, holding up your hands in surrender as you walked past Wildling, Logan falling into step by your side, following Scott and Jean’s lead.

“That went well.” He murmured sarcastically, and you had to control yourself not to chuckle again.

“One good thing came out of this whole debacle though,” you glanced up at Logan who simply raised his brow in question. “Jean could barely keep her eyes off you.”

Your self-satisfied smile didn’t quite seem genuine, and Logan wondered, if only for a moment, whether or not you were irritated by that. But what felt more pressing, was the fact it didn’t boost his ego like it would have done weeks ago. If anything, he wanted to reassure you. To tell you she was just stressed in the moment, since he was the one closest to you.

But he couldn’t seem to find any truth to his thoughts.

You felt like you were under complete scrutiny, which you supposed made sense since you likely were. Every pair of eyes trained on you, tracking each micromovement you made, readying themselves for some kind of master plan of attack. Not sure what they expected you to do, considering you didn’t have half of your vision and your mutation was suppressed, but you took a little pride in the fact they felt like they couldn’t relax around you. Good, keep it that way.

Charles Xavier wasn’t quite what you were expecting. With the way his reputation had grown, you were more expecting some imposing, intimidating-looking man, possibly wearing a nice suit with a white cat on his lap, but that was more likely because of how much you’d villanised him in your head. But this man looked… kinder. Understanding. And though he looked at you with the same sort of scrutiny, it wasn’t in the same way a prey animal would observe a predator. This was more like he was trying to understand you. Who you were and why you were here.

As if he didn’t know.

And you had a horrible feeling he would try and poke around your head, which wouldn’t be a fun time for anyone involved.

Some new faces you hadn’t met yet had gathered in his office, two younger-looking girls, one with a white streak in her hair and the other who wore a graphic t-shirt of a band you’d never heard of before. You’d heard them referred to as Shadowcat and Rogue, which you couldn’t help rolling your eyes at. You knew everyone else’s names, why only now were they getting cagey?

You’d refused Charles' offer to take a seat, choosing instead to stand opposite his desk, arms folded across your chest, trying your fucking best not to scratch and rub around the bracelet on your wrist, its effects now taking an extremely uncomfortable toll on your body. It was the same feeling as holding in a scream you desperately wanted to release, your entire body taut and tense, muscles twitching irritably. How the fuck did you spend years with this feeling and not go crazy?

“You’ve caused quite the stir around here, Alecto.” Even his voice was laced with knowing, like he was reading your life story in an open book, dumped straight onto his desk face up, and you had to fight not to roll your eyes again.

“I aim to please.” You responded flatly, eyes hard as you tried to imagine his head exploding. Maybe if you concentrated hard enough, you’d siphon what little you could of your mutation despite the bracelet. But, predictably, nothing happened, and he only smiled in infuriating understanding.

“I apologise for our unorthodox methods of keeping the school safe,” he nodded to your wrist, and you had the urge to hide it behind your back. “But you must understand, this situation was rather difficult to predict. As are you.”

Your eyes narrowed, head tilting to the side every so slightly. “You have two telepaths. You could know my every move if you wanted to.”

“We don’t like to exploit our mutations in that way.”

“Why? It’s your only advantage in this world. You especially.” You jabbed, looking pointedly at the fact he was in a wheelchair now. It was a low blow, you knew that, but at the same time, fuck this guy.

“Alec…” Logan grumbled a subtle warning for you not to press. And you responded by completely ignoring him, something he tried really hard not to take personally.

“It’s alright Logan. If I recall, you said something similar when you saw met. Called me ‘Wheels’, I believe.” Charles sent him another one of those knowing looks, and you snorted a laugh, clamping your lips together to stop yourself from laughing harder.

It was nice to see you smiling, though it may have been at his expense, and he knew why Charles had said that because it had worked like a charm. You were already more relaxed than you were when you walked into his office. He wanted you to feel like you weren’t alone. Like you had some kind of kinship here, surrounded by people just like you, and he struggled to see how your relationship with either Tisiphone or Magaera was anywhere as close as his was to the rest of the team.

“Can we stay on topic, please?” Jean interjected, her tone as impatient as her tapping foot. Getting you out of here seemed to be the only thing on her mind, and if Logan hadn’t spent twenty-four hours getting to know you and working alongside you, he had no doubt he’d be agreeing with her without much thought.

But he had his own agenda. One that had nothing to do with sleeping with you, surprisingly. Despite that night being nothing short of incredible, Logan wanted to keep you around for more than just that. He saw how lonely you were. Saw how you faced the world with nobody by your side. You were different to Tisiphone, who seemed ready to melt his very bones without so much as a second thought. And whilst yes, you had tried to kill him once, he was also hyper-aware of the fact you felt as if you had no choice. You were trapped in a life chosen for you. And he’d be damned if he let you rot in a cage.

“Very well. Your injuries were severe when you came to us–”

“I had no choice in that, by the way. I didn’t come here, I was dragged.” You interrupted sharply, sending a glare in Logan’s direction, and his gut twisted with the realisation he’d contributed to that cage. Once again your choices had been taken from you. Somebody who valued freedom above all else. He dragged his eyes from yours, choosing instead to focus on the floorboards.

“When you arrived, then. Jean and Hank managed to patch you up and monitor your well-being until you woke up a few hours ago. You have them to thank for your recovery.” Charles nodded to Jean in the absence of Hank, who you presumed had been taken to some kind of bed to sleep off the harsh hit to the back of his head. Honestly, you hadn’t planned on hitting him so hard, but without the use of your mutation, you sort of overshot. But even the implication that you needed to thank any of these people burned your very blood. You didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for any of this. If anything, you’d never regretted asking Logan for help more than at this very moment. You should have just knocked him the fuck out and walked away.

“Once again, something I didn’t ask them to do. You expect me to be grateful for what you’ve all ‘done for me’. Are you out of your fucking mind? You’ve done nothing for me, apart from get in my way. You’ve taken me from my team, suppressed my mutation, insulted me, berated me, and now you want me to thank you?!” You barked incredulously, letting out a bitter laugh as you turned to each mutant in the room individually, assessing the situation and the likelihood of you getting out of here not busted up.

And Logan could sense it. Could sense how you’d shifted once again, your eyes carefully examining the room and its inhabitants. You knew most of their abilities, maybe only Marie and Kitty being the only two loose cannons in the room. At least, to you.

“If we hadn’t done what we did, you’d be dead,” Scott said flatly, and you laughed again.

“So what? People die all the time. Mutants die all the time. Why am I any different? I should have died in that field and yet here I am, forced into a room with ignorance screaming at me from every corner. You have no idea what’s really out there. You have no idea what these people are doing to us. Only Logan knows because he had the fucking decency to listen, which is the bare fucking minimum if you ask me. You tried to kill me,” you jabbed a finger in Scott’s direction, and Jean stepped a little closer to him. “You immobilised me in a kitchen whilst I’m borderline completely defenceless,” you continued, now turning that finger on Jean, who simply raised a thin brow in challenge. “And you,” you whirled back to Charles, eyes bleeding venom. “You abandoned me. Deemed me too dangerous for your little school because my powers were beyond my control. A man who’d sworn to help teach the young and vulnerable turned his back on me. Well, I’m in control now, except you’ve fucking collared me.”

Logan watched as grim recognition dawned on Charles’ face. So he did know you. And Logan knew everything you’d said was true in how Charles lowered his head and whispered your name.

“I didn’t know–”

“Bullshit. You’re one of the most powerful telepaths in the world. Of course you knew.” You spat, barely allowing the room to breathe before you turned your attention back to Logan. “This is the man you look up to? A man who’s lied to you since the beginning. He knew who I was from the start, yet sent you all after me knowing what I coud do. He sent you to your deaths, only you can’t die, so that worked out pretty well for you, huh?

You’re all just weapons to him. Weapons to point toward his enemies so he can claim victory over them. Don’t you get it? You’re just as much a part of a system as I was. Only your cycle of violence doesn’t stop.”

“And yours stops when every human is dead, right?” Logan countered, his patience waning rapidly. “When there’s nobody left but us mutants.”

“Doesn’t that sound ideal to you?”

“It sounds like genocide to me.”

“Who’s side are you on? You heard what they were saying about us. About you. Fucking breeding programmes, Logan! They treat us like cattle and you’re saying you don’t want that to end?!”

“I’m sayin’ there’s a way to end it without massacring millions of innocents.”

“They’re guilty by association.”

“What about the mutants with human parents? We got a few of ‘em here. You gonna explain to those kids why their parents had to die?” He countered, watching you fall into furious silence. Whilst he found the bracelet inhumane, he was currently a little thankful for it, because he had the feeling you wouldn’t have been so up for the argument if you could silence him with a single thought.

And neither of you had noticed the rest of the room readying themselves for action if needs be. Scott had his fingers to his glasses, Storm’s hands outstretched by her sides. Rogue had removed a glove from her hand, Kitty crouched down to the floor. And Jean? She hadn’t taken her eyes off you, only barely glancing at the Professor now and then, her brows furrowed. They were arguing as well, and it looked like she was losing.

Charles uttered your name to catch your attention, and holy shit did it work, your head whipping back to where he was sitting at his desk, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t call me that.” You hissed, and he held up his hands in apology.

“Alecto, then. I’m going to give you a choice here. You can stay with us for a while, see what we do here, understand our methods and our way of life, and remove the bracelet. Or you can leave and go back to your team and see if they have any way to remove it. But you’ll find it can’t be merely slashed off.”

Logan blanched, eyes widening in barely concealed bafflement. Scott spluttered in protest, and it finally became clear what Jean’s silent argument was about, her jaw tense with subdued rage. She was very clearly against this idea.

“I could just agree to your terms, get this bracelet off, kill most of you and walk out of here unharmed.” You shrugged as if it were the obvious thing in the world. Which it probably was.

“You could. But you won’t.” Charles explained, and your eyes narrowed again.

“And why’s that?”

Xavier glanced at Logan, a small knowing smile pulling at his lips. “You just won’t. Now, let’s get this thing off you. Jean?”

“Woah woah woah, I haven’t agreed to anything yet!” You took a step back as Jean took a reluctant step forward, fishing in her pockets for the circular key, grabbing your flailing wrist in her hand.

“You put one foot wrong, you’re dead.” She hissed, and you rolled your eyes at her dramatics.

“Right back atcha, toots.” You said it before you’d even thought about it, realising you’d never fucking said that before in your life. But the man who had and seemed to say it regularly threw an amused glance in your direction, and you bit down your smile. At least, while you still had the control to do so, because all at once, the bracelet fell away, and you felt like you were breathing for the first time.

The tension in your body melted away as you felt your powers surge through your nerves, your blood singing with freedom as it danced through your veins, eyes glowing with a sanguine song, so strong it was almost overwhelming. You gritted your teeth as you fell to one knee, fighting not to unleash your mutation on the people. They’d taken a risk, and you could appreciate that. And if this were to truly work, you’d have to pay back their borderline misplaced trust. So you'd fight your instincts, let your powers run riot in your blood and your blood alone, your muscles pulsing with strength, your senses sharpening with adrenaline, your pulse like a beating drum in your ears.

Logan didn’t bother to fight the urge to crouch by your side, watching as your pallid complexion regained colour, the light returned to your eyes. It was spectacular, though a little worrisome as you appeared to be in pain. He’d never experienced one of these collars, and he truly hoped he never would because it would most likely kill him, but the way your eyes focused on the ground demonstrated that this was not the first time you’d dealt with the sudden surge of power.

“Feelin’ better?” He asked lowly, his hand settling atop your shoulder. You really couldn’t figure him out. One moment he was fighting you on moral ethics, the next he was asking you how you were feeling and putting a comforting hand on your arm. You didn’t understand him, and you didn’t understand your body’s reaction to him either. Why did you want him to keep that hand there for eternity? Why did you never want him to move away from you? Why had you come to him for help?

“Yeah, thanks.” You relaxed your jaw, moving it around slightly to loosen the muscles as you stood, Logan following your lead. You needed to get out of this room. You needed time to think, to process. You had no idea what just happened, or why. Why Charles had offered for you to stay. Maybe it was some fucked up shot at redemption, hell if you knew. But you’d entertain it. For now, at least. Until you got bored or the pull of your team became too much to bear. They were technically your family after all. But Monkey would be safe while the others thought you dead.

At least, you kind of hoped they thought you were dead.

“Hey Jean…” You kept your eyes on Logan as you called for the woman who had once held his heart. You’d seen how she’d looked at him, and there was definitely some kind of confused longing there. So why not stir things up a little?

Your wicked little grin set Logan’s heart aflame and his teeth on edge. As Charles had said, you were unpredictable, so just what the hell were you about to do? And when you sent him a wink before turning around and heading towards the door, he knew he was screwed.

“You’re really missing out on that one.” Briefly meeting her eyes, you watched in sick satisfaction as her brows creased in confusion before the fury of realisation flared in her face. And you didn’t stick around long enough to decipher the roaring cacophony of voices as you left the room, accusations flying left and right before the door closed behind you.

It was late evening by the time the argument in Charles’ office had settled down enough, Jean having stormed out with an accusatory Scott hot on her heels, his arms flying in all different directions. It had been a dirty move from you, but Logan couldn’t deny he enjoyed watching the chaos unfold, despite the argument being focused around him. He didn’t confirm anything, but at the same time, he didn’t deny anything either. And the entire team looked exhausted by the time they filed out, Logan borderline pushed Kitty out the door as he closed it with his back, leaving just him and Charles alone. What you’d said had been stuck in his head, replaying your words like a carousel in his mind. And if he didn’t confront Charles about it now, it would keep him awake.

“I suppose you have questions.” Charles broke the silence first, turning to face the window, the orange light of the sunset bathing him in a glow of hellfire.

“Yeah… a few. Why didn’t you tell us?” He thought he’d start easy, since jumping into a slew of accusations hadn’t exactly worked for him in the past. It had been a learning curve for him, but one he was more than accustomed to by now. Charles’ heavy sigh fanned the window pane, fogging the glass before it cleared away in moments.

“I wasn’t sure. There aren’t many blood manipulators, but I met one a long, long time ago. Some twenty years, I think.” He mused almost to himself, and Logan folded his arms, pushing against the door he was leaning on to cross the office and sit on one of the sofas, his elbows leaning heavily on his thighs as he once again stared at the floorboards.

“You said, before this whole thing, you didn’t get to her in time. Assumin’ she’d the same one, what happened?” He asked a little sharper than he’d intended to. But he wanted answers. Too many truths had been concealed, and some could have got his friends killed. So yeah, he was a little fucking frustrated.

“The same thing that always happens. Her mutation awakened. But with devastating consequences. By the time I arrived, nothing was left of her family but bloodstains on the walls. It was much like those images in the slideshow. And she couldn’t have been older than five.” His voice was filled with so much regret it made Logan wonder if he was telling him everything. And, knowing Charles, he probably wasn’t.

“So… what? You just turned your back on her?” Logan hissed, his jaw aching from how hard he was gritting his teeth. The thought of you wandering around the world at such a young age, terrified out of your mind of what you could do…

It hurt.

“I worked with her for almost a year. Taught her what control I could, but it’s like her mutation calls to blood. It wants to manipulate, to bend, to control. With every drop, she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was growing more and more frustrated by the day. I only took my eyes off her for a minute…” Charles trailed off, his eyes trained on the younger students playing a game of tag in the gardens, shrieking giddily as the one who was ‘it’ chased them all around. A touching scene, and one you could have been a part of if he hadn’t been so damn careless. “She was gone. Took off. I tried to track her, but I taught her how to hide her mutation from others, and now she was using it against me. By the time I had Cerebro…

“It was my failings that got her into this life ––my neglect. I couldn’t help her the way she needed and it cost her a life of freedom. But you can, Logan. There was one reason and one reason alone she didn’t kill us all and walk out of here.”

Logan wasn’t stupid. He knew he was the reason, but he also knew it wasn’t just him. He’d told you how much his friends meant to him. How close of a family they were. You’d understood almost immediately they weren’t just colleagues or associates. Even Scott. These people saved his life, and offered him friendship, a home. And what stray dog doesn’t want that?

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be…” he mumbled, the weight of Charles’ words heavy on his shoulders. As much as he cared about you, he didn’t want your fate to be on his conscience. He wanted a better life for you. Fuck, he didn’t particularly want you to leave, but having that whole decision riding on him…?

It really made him want to skip town. Just disappear and return after a couple months, maybe a few years who knows. Isn’t that the version of him Jean said she missed?

“You’re right, it’s a lot of responsibility.” Charles agreed, to Logan’s chagrin.

“Outta my head, Chuck.”

Charles rumbled a chuckle, turning from the gardens to regard Logan where he was sitting. “Apologies, your thoughts are often quite loud. But the mere fact you care for her means I don’t have much to worry about. You’re a good man, Logan. Maybe you could make an honest woman of her.”

Logan rolled his eyes dramatically, standing from his seat and glancing out the window, his heartwarming as he watched those kids change the game in a split second, now engaging in some imaginary fantasy battle. If only your childhood could have consisted of things such as this. Maybe you wouldn’t be so hellbent on the destruction of humanity…

Or maybe you would. Who was he to say?

With a heavy sigh, he nodded goodbye to Charles, running a hand through his hair as he stepped out into the hallway, his mind a whirlwind of emotions, thoughts and intentions. To the point where he didn’t even see Jean lingering in the lounge, pretending to tend to a fire that had already been lit. The warmer months were finally over, and the weather had finally crossed into the rainy, cold season. Wind picking up, clouds overhead. Only today had been a nice midpoint between sunshine and storm clouds. Marie was always going on about that literature technique where the weather reflects the mood. He felt she’d go crazy with pride if he brought it up.

“You really want her to stay, don’t you?” Jean broke the silence, finally setting aside the poker now the flames were climbing to her satisfaction. “It doesn’t matter what she did, because you spent twenty-four hours with her and she completely changed you.” She spoke absently as if not speaking to him. But since nobody else was in the room, a nice change from the usual hum of life, he assumed he was the only one she could be talking to.

“Yeah, I do. But she didn’t change me, Jean. I’m still me.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn’t want to have this conversation so soon after the meeting. He didn’t even know where you’d run off to, and he needed to find you. He couldn’t explain why, he just did.

Jean sighed, sitting back on her heels in front of the hearth. “I suppose sleeping with random strangers is very reminiscent of the old you.” Her tone was airy and careless, but there was an underlying spitefulness that Logan really couldn’t understand. He could get her not liking you because of your methods and ideology, but not liking you because he’d slept with you? That made absolutely no sense.

“Don’t see how that’s any’ve your concern.” He grumbled, crossing the room to lean against the wall next to the fireplace. It was a low blow, and one he refused to rise to, but it sure as shit irked him. So what if he slept with you? Sure, maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but in the moment, he didn’t give a shit. And truthfully, he still didn’t give a shit.

“I just wonder why you really want her around. Sex is a good distraction, after all.” She sent him a look over her shoulder. A look that would have made him weak at the knees a month ago. And whilst it still made him feel warm, he didn’t have the same ‘I want to jump your bones’ reaction he used to. He wouldn’t spend the rest of the day in a bad mood because of Scott’s existence.

“I’m not discussin’ this with you.”

“Oh come on, Logan. The entire mansion knew how you felt about me. Even the students. And suddenly you’re not interested anymore because someone new and exciting walks through the door?” Jean stood from her knees, smoothing down her t-shirt of any creases she may have created.

“‘S that what this is about? You’re mad because I no longer want to sleep with you?” He accused a little harsher than he meant to, and Jean scoffed in response, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m just saying it’s not hard to see the correlation.” She retorted dismissively.

“Don’t you always say ‘correlation doesn’t always mean causation’? I never understood what that meant ‘til now. I was right here, for years. And you wanted nothin’ to do with me. An’ now all of a sudden you’re all torn up cuz I’ve moved on?” Whatever he said about not rising to the bait had been thrown out the window.

“You moved on to a girl you’ve known for less than five minutes!” It was almost cathartic to see her get as worked up as he was, her collected façade fraying at the seams.

“I haven’t moved on to her, Jean, Christ! We had sex, it meant nothing.” He huffed in exasperation, the scent of frustration heavy in the air. Frustration, lavender and–

“Aww, you wound me, Stray.”

Copper.

Your voice wove through the tension, curling around his anger like a flute soothing a snake. And whilst he found himself relaxing, he watched as Jean tensed further, her spine straightening tenfold.

He’d never seen you so at ease, leaning against the doorframe with a lazy, entertained smirk, nursing a mug of god knows what in both your hands as if you were trying to warm up. You’d changed into a pair of low-hanging sweatpants he’d seen on Kitty a few times, and a graphic shirt he knew belonged to Ororo. Considering nobody was particularly happy with you hanging around, they all seemed surprisingly accommodating towards you.

“How long have you been standing there?” Jean asked sharply, her eyes narrowing in a way that made Logan want to step between you. But for who’s sake, he couldn’t discern.

“Not long,” you shrugged, standing up straight and heading over to sit on the arm of the couch. “But long enough to hear that our little midnight tryst meant nothing to Claws. And here I was hearing wedding bells and sending out invitations. Guess I’ll put the florist on hold.” You sighed with faux dejection, peering into the contents of your mug longingly.

Jean ground her teeth together. “You’re incredibly grating, you know that?”

You just snorted a laugh, eyeing her with that same lazy smirk. “Oh honey, you think this is bad? Just wait til you see what else my mouth can do,” you paused momentarily, pretending to think. “Although… I suppose Logan could fill you in on that.”

Logan almost choked on his saliva, his eyes blowing wide before he had to clamp his lips together to stop himself from cackling.

“You’re disgusting.” Jean sneered, looking you up and down with an appraising eye, her nose scrunching in revulsion.

“And you’re jealous.” You shot back with a sing-song tone, swirling your mug in your hands, raising a curious brow at her.

“Of you? You’re insane.” Though she did take a step back from you, her eyes flaring with the realisation that you could see right through her.

“Disgusting, insane, c’mon. You can do better than that. But you might want to get some air and cool off. Your blood’s boiling.” You glanced at her up and down, giving her a look of venomous innocence. Jean clamped her mouth shut as if internally debating whether or not to bind your limbs to your body again, but one quick look at Logan’s face of warning and she seemed to decide against it.

“Fucking psycho bitch…” she hissed as she stormed out, and you didn’t bother to dodge to the side as she deliberately shouldered past you, your hands moving quickly to save the contents of your mug that Logan was only now able to smell was tea.

“That’s more like it,” you gave her a wink over your shoulder, and Logan released a heavy sigh. Of relief or exhaustion, he didn’t know, but at least that conversation was over. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He raised a brow as you sipped your drink, humming absently at the flavour. “Yeah? For what?”

“Saving you from an argument that looked like it was about to turn nasty. Trouble in paradise? I’m not about to pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time.” You grinned unapologetically, and though Logan knew he should be irritated, but he couldn’t find a lick of frustration with you.

“Not about to pretend I didn’t know you were there.” He didn’t. But he wasn’t about to admit that. And the way you narrowed your eyes told him you knew he was lying. Neither of you decided to bring it up.

The room fell silent, your eyes focused on the crackling of the flames, finding comfort in the non-conformity of it all. You couldn’t predict the patterns of fire. Didn’t know where the next ember would pop, or the next spark would rise. Didn’t know when it would flare to life or decide to die down. There was comfort in chaos.

It was where you thrived. Not in places like this, where the quiet was stuffy and suffocating. Not when your senses didn’t have to constantly be alert. You didn’t like the feeling of so-called “safety”, which was part of the reason you enjoyed riling up Jean so much. She was dangerous, and as much as you didn’t like her, you certainly enjoyed that much about her.

“How’re you holdin’ up?”

“About what I said…”

You both broke the silence simultaneously, even the hearth joining your voices with a sudden crack. A small smile graced your lips, huffed laughter rippling in your tea as he cleared his throat a little awkwardly. It was cute, you thought, the way he slightly shifted from foot to foot.

“Charles, uh. Charles told me. What happened when you were a kid.”

And just like that, your good mood soured. Barely able to disguise your shocked rage, your spine straightened, defensive walls locking down around your heart and soul. “He had no right to tell you that.”

“But he did all the same.” Logan attempted to soothe. He didn’t want to lie to you, and though this conversation was about to be just as painful as the one he had with Jean, this one needed to happen. “Look, he failed you before. Didn’t know where to look, didn’t know how to find you. But give him a second chance an–”

“It wasn’t just him, Logan. Sure, Charles was the first, but in time everyone turns their backs on the kids they can’t help. And if they can’t help them, they try to tame and use them. After a while, you just come to expect it.” You avoided his gaze, choosing instead to stare into the murky brown liquid in the mug you held as if it would somehow yield the answers you sought.

“Not everyone is like that.”

“No? You never had somebody turn their back on you? Or you turn your back on them?” You asked, and Logan tensed his jaw, giving you the answer you needed. “Exactly. This world is cruel. And whilst I know I can’t put a stop to it completely, trying to stem that cruelty where I can became a purpose. And if that means the eradication of the human race, then so be it.”

“What makes mutants so different? You were a street kid, I know you’ve seen some fucked up shit from both sides. Mutants can be just as cruel, so why are they so different?” He urged, fighting the instinct to set your mug aside and take your hands in his own. He had to hold onto the hope that you didn’t actually think this and that you were holding onto resentment because it was all you had.

“Because the only people who’ve given me any sense of belonging are those mutants. You may think we’re cruel, and our methods are fucked up, but those people saved my life. They took me in after the world turned its back on me. After the human who claimed to love me branded me a slave and sold me off as fucking cattle. I was passed around humans like a fucking joint. Sold from this family to that, from one organisation to another. Fight pits, prostitution, thievery, bounty hunter. You name it, I did it. All for somebody else’s profit and never for me.” You drew in a shaky breath, cursing the burning of your eyes, the damp on your lashes, the tremor in your hands. You could feel the collar’s weight on your neck, the itch of friction burn on your collar bones. The blood down your back from where you tried time and time again to claw it off, nails sinking into soft, scarred flesh. “Mutants freed me from that hell. Mutants like Tiss and Mags. They freed me and whilst we’re not quite the same as your cushy little family here, they’re all I have. Monkey is all I have. So don’t sit there and tell me mutants can be just as cruel because, from my experience, they’re not a patch on the suffering a human can inflict.”

Having had enough of ignoring his instincts, Logan stepped forward, bending down on one knee to take the mug from your trembling hands and set it on the coffee table.

“You’ve been dealt the shittiest deal, I know that,” he finally took your hands, his thumbs smoothing over the bones of your scarred knuckles. “But there are other ways of puttin’ a stop to this. Not everyone has to die. There are innocents too. There always are.”

You stared at the way his hands had enveloped yours, the gentle caress of his fingers, a touch you were so unfamiliar with and yet already crave so much more. “How do you do it?” You whispered, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Do what?”

“The right thing. All the fucking time. Doesn’t it drive you crazy? How fucking shit this world is? Don’t you want to make them suffer? For everything they’ve done to us? For everything they’re doing to us? To kids?” Your question hung in the air, caught in the static tension between you.

“Yeah. I do. But if I started, I’d never stop.” He answered honestly, ducking his head to finally catch your eye, his breath stilling in his lungs as he saw right through your furious façade and straight into the terrified girl beneath.

“Maybe that’s a good thing…”

“I’ve stained my hands enough times to know it isn’t.”

You fell silent, contemplating his words. Had he been in this position before, right where you are now? Had he felt this same kind of all-consuming rage? “Fuck…” you muttered, knowing he had a good point.

“I know. It’s frustratin’ when someone forces you to see a different perspective.” He knew all too well how it fucks with the mind.

“I haven’t seen anything yet.” You pointed out, though your glare held no actual heat.

“‘Yet’ is good.” His lips quirked into a small smirk. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe he did have a shot at saving you from yourself. And if the way you rolled your eyes was anything to judge by, he was succeeding.

“Shut up…” You forced yourself to look away from his suddenly strikingly handsome face, choosing instead to find interest again in the fire. A tobacco-scented huff of laughter fanned the side of your cheek, and regrettably, you couldn’t find the will to continue staring into the flames. Your gaze dragged reluctantly back to his features, suddenly hyper aware of his hands in yours. Of his face barely inches from your own.

“How’s the wound?” He murmured, eyes flickering over your features, drinking you in as if to memorise the valleys and plains of your face, gaze lingering on your lips for longer than you’d dare admit.

“It’ll heal in around a week or so. I’ll be fine.” You whispered back, dragged from your internal debate over whether or not you should pull away by the borderline gravitational tug of his intentions. This felt different to the logger’s cabin. This wasn’t two people finding comfort in each other after surviving a battle together. There was no threat here to excuse your actions. No rush of adrenaline to explain them.

“Good.”

Logan couldn’t be bothered to argue with himself. He didn’t care if it was a bad idea. Something about you drew him in, and like a damned moth to an open flame, he welcomed the doomed desire that came with it. The first touch of your lips was electrifying, and he sucked a gasp through his nose as you too gave in. Eyes fluttering shut, your fingers dragged from his hands up over his arms, nails lightly scratching up his neck to weave into his hair, making a home in his thick locks.

You hadn’t realised how badly you craved his touch. You were mildly aware of it, sure. But when he kissed you like there was nobody else on the planet, when he savoured your lips the way one does with the last bite of a meal, you couldn’t deny it. And when you parted your mouth for him, you felt a surge of something burst through your chest. A searing, agonising thrumming in the centre of your chest.

Logan’s fingers gently pried at the bandage you’d haphazardly wrapped around your left eye, softly pulling at the fabric until it came loose in his hand, falling away from your face. A stuttered exhale flew from your lips as he drew back a fraction, just enough for your breaths to mingle as one as he traced the outline of the scar with his fingertips, hazel eyes meeting yours.

“Pretty…” he murmured absently, and your eyes widened, a bashful smile of pure, unadulterated beatitude pulled at your disobedient lips. Logan drank in your expression, a surprised smile of his own gracing his features. “Yeah? Like it when I call you pretty?”

You wanted to slap the self-satisfied grin from his face, but the butterflies in your stomach prevented you from doing so. “I just… don’t hear it very often.”

“Better get used to it, Alleycat.” You barely had time to register yet another new nickname before his lips were sealed back to yours, an unmistakable urgency now fuelling his movements and a pace change you were more than happy to dance with.

With a slight push against your chest, you let yourself fall into the sofa behind with a soft thud, your hands never leaving his hair as he fell forward with you, fingers roaming beneath Ororo’s graphic t-shirt, careful to avoid the wound still raw in your side. You thought it would hurt more, but maybe you were just too drugged by his attention to notice the pain. Goosebumps prickled your skin, your thighs caging his hips as you locked your ankles around his waist, dragging a low, breathy groan from his chest.

He separated from your lips, the taste of his tongue still lingering in your mouth as he littered kisses up the side of your jaw and down your neck, igniting a heat within you thought had long since faded. But then you remembered the cabin. You remembered the way he could make you feel with his fingers alone. That spark definitely hadn’t faded but was just waiting. Buying its time.

“Logan…” you breathed, the scruff of his beard lightly scratching the soft skin of your neck. He rumbled a hum of acknowledgement, his hand sliding from your waist to grip the meat of your thigh.

“Thought I lost you for a moment… scared the hell outta me.” He confessed against your skin, the side of your head tingling slightly with each lover’s caress.

But you couldn’t focus on the feeling, not after what he’d just said. A cold pit of dread opened in your stomach, and you pushed against the centre of his chest. “What?”

Logan’s brows furrowed in confusion, his head tilting to the side. “When you were shot…? Forgot already?” He grinned a little cockily, but you drew back as far as you could with the couch cushions behind your head. Your legs unlocked from his lower back, your hand now pushing a little firmer against his chest until he was off you.

“What do you mean ‘you thought you lost me’?”

“You almost died?!” He stated it as if it were obvious, but that wasn’t what you were asking him.

“You wouldn’t have lost anything, Logan. I’m not someone to lose. I’m not even someone to mourn. Me dying would have meant nothing.” How couldn’t he see that? How couldn’t he see how little you mattered? There would always be somebody to take your place. There always had been and there always would be.

You stood abruptly from the couch, the heel of your palm pressed over the scar on your left eye, as if you had only just realised it was uncovered and you hastily tried to fix your hair to cover it.

“I don’t understand.” Logan squinted at you, as if looking at you harder would help him come to terms with whatever the hell just happened. Would explain to him why you were suddenly pushing him away.

“I don’t expect you to–”

“Then help me to. Help me to understand you. Because I’m a little lost right now.” He huffed irritably, and you tried not to let your temper flare.

“Everyone around you matters, Logan. Everyone around you has people who look at them differently. Who love them, care about them, would miss their conversations at breakfast if they weren’t there. That’s why I don’t expect you to understand. Because I don’t think you’ve ever met someone who doesn’t matter before.” You explained with muted frustration, and Logan rose intending to take your arm.

“I still haven’t.”

You sighed heavily, raising your gaze to meet his, and your very heart stopped beating at what you saw. It was a look you’d never experienced before, but one you knew all too well. How could he? After everything you’d said. Your intentions. The very core of who you were, carefully crafted to be a cold, hard killer. The core he was well aware of. So how could he?

“I’m not somebody to be loved, Logan.”

Your words struck him like a bullet straight to his chest. The harsh reality of your upbringing, the lessons your life had taught you were all here for him to see. The thought of getting through to you earlier was almost laughable now. He wasn’t a professional; he had no idea how to deal with this.

And he was struck with something else. The acknowledgement of a familiar blossom, barely withstanding the crushing weight of his situation.

It seemed he’d stayed silent for a little too long. You fixed your tee, and fiddled with your hair slightly to make sure it was at least somewhat covering your scar, before offering not another word. He was completely powerless as you walked away, leaving him to sit with whatever the fuck had just happened. Because, in truth, he didn’t know how to explain his feelings in words. He was at a complete loss as to how he could convince you otherwise. Because you were wrong. Oh so very, very wrong.

But now you've walked away. You’d pushed him back and shut him out. Again. Only this time, it felt final.

This time, he didn’t know if he could get back in.

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