#plant mutation reader

[sunflowergirl522]

What if I fucked around and write an Eddie and fairy!reader fic

[runawrites-blog]

Shipping (Charles Xavier x Reader)

Summary: You're a teacher at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters and you're quite close to Charles -- so close that a few of the students have started speculating whether or not you two are actually a couple. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,646 Warnings: Very Minor Suggestive Themes. Light Angst. No Y/N. Reader has a last name that goes with her powers but it's only mentioned once or twice. A/N: As mentioned, the reader has a last name that correlates with her powers/mutation. Her name is Brandt (inspired by the German word Brand for fire) since she has pyrokinetic powers. But it's only mentioned once or twice by the students.

“You two are being ridiculous.”

“We’re not being ridiculous!” Jubilee defended herself, leaning over the back of the couch to throw Jean a joking glare. “Look at how cute they’re being!”

Jean gave Jubilee one more annoyed look before turning to where the other girl was pointing, her eyes falling on you and Charles at the other side of the large sitting room. She took the two of you in for a second; how Charles was looking back at you periodically with a bright smile on his face and how you were leaning over the back of his chair, a hand firmly planted on his shoulder as you looked at the files he was currently going over. She turned turned back to Jubilee and Ororo.

“See?” Ororo grinned a little and leaned back in the armchair. “Miss Brandt and the Professor are totally banging.”

“Ororo!” Jubilee exclaimed in disgust. “I wanted to prove to Jean that Miss Brandt and Professor Xavier are in love, not that they are sleeping with each other. As a matter of fact, I don’t want to hear anything about that!”

That’s when Scott piped up, raising an eyebrow at Jubilee. “To be fair, if they were dating, don’t you think they’d be sleeping with each other?”

“You two don’t have to make this gross.”

Jean quickly nodded at that. “I agree with Jubilee.”

“Really?”

“Not about the dating, but about Scott and Ororo being gross.” Jean leaned back on the couch, closing her book in her lap. “Just because they’re friendly doesn’t mean they’re dating, Jubilee. They’re probably just good friends.”

That’s when Kurt spoke up, a smile on his lips. “I think the idea of them being a couple is sweet. They seem like they would make a nice couple.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“I’m not entirely sure, though!” He quickly defended himself. “I just said it would be cute if they were together.”

Scott nodded. “I agree with that. They’d be a good couple but I agree with Jean on this one, I think. Just because they’re nice to each other, doesn’t mean they’re a couple.”

Jean nodded quickly and picked her book back up. “Now can you let me do my reading for Miss Brandt’s class? I don’t want to mess up on the test.”

“What test?”

“The test we’re traking next week about the Napoleonic Wars.” Jean explained off-handedly. “I’m currently reading the chapter in my History book and I would love for all of you to let me study.”

Kurt nodded at that. “I read the chapter yesterday and trust me, you should all start soon, as well. It’s a pretty long chapter. I could help you study if you want me to.”

“Thanks. I can’t really start now because lunch break is almost over, but I’ll take you up on that offer another time.” Scott said to Kurt before rising to his feet. “What class do we have now? Literature or Physics?”

“Literature.” Jubilee commented and grabbed her bag from the couch. “With none other than Miss Brandt, so maybe we can get some clues on her relationship with the Professor now!”

“You just want to find it out to prove you’re right, don’t you?”

“Exactly!”

All of them stopped when the clock struck two and everyone started to slowly leave the sitting room to get to class. Jubilee grinned a little as she watched Charles turn to you with a soft smile before placing his hand on top of yours for a few seconds. He gave it a short squeeze before he wheeled himself out from behind the desk and toward the door. Most days, the desks were used by students but Hank had asked Charles to review a file he had typed up and the telepath had asked you to look over it with him during lunch break.

You gave him one last smile before slinging your bag over your shoulder and grabbing the two boxes of books you were going to use for your class. Jean watched from the doors, waiting for her friends to get her belongings, as you struggled to carry both of the boxes. But before she could offer her help Charles called out your name, making you look up from the boxes to face him. He was looking back at you with his arms outstretched, smiling softly.

“Let me help you, Darling.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and handed one of the boxes to him, watching as he placed it on his lap before he made his way to the door. “We’re starting with a new book today.”

“I can see that.” Charles laughed and leaned his head back to look at you. “Didn’t you once mention that you loved Mary Shelley’s writing? What a lovely concidence that one of her books is on the curriculum, isn’t it?”

A smile appeared on your face as you stopped in your tracks. “Did you put it on there? You get to decide between three books for each new chapter of the curriculum, don’t you? I think you’ve mentioned that once.”

“I might have.”

“You’re the sweetest, Charles.”

“For you, always.”

Not wanting to intrude, Jean quickly followed her friends out the sitting room and to her class, though now she was actually contemplating on how much truth there was to Jubilee’s suspiciouns about your relationship with Charles.

---

As the days passed, Jean started to believe in Jubilee’s suspicions more and more as she watched how you and Charles interacted. She had never really paid much attention to it but now she was questioning how she’d never before noticed your gentle smiles, sweet nicknames, casual touches and quiet conversations. But what really got Jean hooked on the idea of finding out about whether or not the rumours were true, was what happened one rainy Friday evening.

It was late and some of the younger students were already asleep while Jean was studying with Jubilee and Ororo. There was a slight drizzle going outside as they hunched over their History books and notes from class. They were pretty engulfed in their studying when the earthquake started, making everything in the room rattle and shake. Jubilee nearly fell off the bed but Jean caught her and Ororo clung to the headboard.

But fortunately, the earthquake quickly stopped and the three of them got off the bed to venture to the hallway to see what had happened -- though Jean was pretty sure it was the new student with geokenesis that must have accidentally started the erathquake. Just as they stepped into the hallway, along with a few others students, you and Charles did the same. And the three girls froze when they realised that both of you had come from his room.

Jubilee turned to give Jean a grin but she wasn’t even looking at her, too caught up in watching you hurry after Charles, smoothing out your hair while you made your way to the young boy’s room. Before you could even knock he opened the door and upon seeing Charles, grabbed onto the armrests of his chair, beginning to apologise profusely. Charles reacted in his usual gentle and comforting manner, calming the boy down and checking whether or not he was injured.

It took a few minutes to calm him down but eventually Charles had convinced him that everyone was fine and there was no need for him to feel guilty. And after a few checkups on the other students, Charles proclaimed that they should all get back to their rooms. Jean ushered Ororo and Jubilee back into her room. But once inside Ororo stopped her from closing the door, pointing at you and Charles in the hallway. Jubilee and Jean looked at each other for a second before leaning over to see what their friend was talking about.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked once the last door had closed, giving you a worried once over and reaching out to take your hand into his. “I saw you hit your head on the nigthstand when you fell off my bed. Are you hurt, Darling?”

“I’m fine.” You gave him a reassuring smile before gently cradling his hand in both of yours. “Shall we get back to your room?”

Charles shook his head, bringing his other hand up to cup yours. “May I check? I promise you I will only check if you’re alright. I wouldn’t want to overlook a possible concussion. You did hit the nightstand pretty hard.”

With a relenting smile you nodded and gave his hand a small squeeze. “If it makes you feel better you can.”

While Charles placed his fingers on his temple and you held his hand tightly, Jubilee gave Jean one more triumpanth smirk. Ororo was still staring at you and Charles, completely amazed by the fact that her and Jubilee had apparently been right. And Jean crossed her arms over her chest, still not fully convinced.

“I mean, I worry about my friends, too.” The rehead reasoned softly. “That time you got hurt during dodgeball, I checked you for a concussion, too.”

“They’re literally holding hands.”

Ororo turned and placed a finger over her lips as you and Charles began to move down the hallway back to his room, now that he had confirmed you were uninjured. The three girls watched as you two arrived at Charles’ door and you glanced down the hallway once more, checking if everyone was in their rooms. Then Charles used the controls of his wheelchair to back into his room while grabbing your hand and pulling you along. You gave a surprised laugh at that and Charles smirked charmingly. And then the two of you were gone and the door to his room once more closed.

“How is that not obviously them going to do something nasty now? He literally pulled her into his room.”

“You really overuse that word.”

“What word?”

“’Literally’.” Jean answered. “Maybe they’re going over something from class.”

“You just don’t want to be in the wrong.” Ororo laughed quietly as she looked up at Jean. “They both came from the Professor’s room, looking disheveled and in their nightwear. Just now he said she’d been on his bed with him when the quake started. And she went back to his room.”

“You’re right. That kind of proves you two right.”

“Kind of?”

---

Now that Jean agreed with Ororo and Jubilee, the girls had made it their mission to find out whether or not they were right. Scott was still not convinced and Kurt kept telling them that while you and Charles would make a sweet couple it was invasive to talk about their teachers like that. His complaints did not stop his friends.

As the next few days days went on, they kept looking for clues. Jubilee kept going on about how much you and Charles were casually touching while Ororo’s main focus was the fact that he kept calling you petnames to which Scott shut her down by telling her that their professor called everyone petnames – they had to agree with him on that one.

Then Thanksgiving break rolled along and most of the students left to visit home. That year Jean, Jubilee, Ororo, Kurt and Scott had all decided to stay behind at the mansion along with a handful of other students. And due to this decreased amount of students at the school, most teachers were leaving over the holidays, as well – safe for Hank, Charles and you. It was really the perfect time for the friends to find out if they were right with their suspicions.

It was on a cold autumn day that Ororo had decided they needed to keep an eye on you and Charles, mostly because she had noticed that you were most definitely wearing one of his favourite cardigans to ward off the chill. That gave them enough incentive to use the rest of the day to try to decide which of them was right once and for all. Eventually, evening rolled along and you and Charles hadn’t acted any different around each other than usual, so the friends gave up and headed back to their rooms. That was until a storm rolled in only an hour later, bringing with it cold winds and chilly rain, prompting the friends to go to the sitting room and warm up by the fire.

“I can’t believe you still don’t believe us.” Jean commented as she walked down the hallway toward the stairs so they could go down to the sitting area. “And would you hurry up so we can warm up by the fire? It’s so cold today.”

Scott shrugged at that. “I can’t believe they managed to convince you.”

“You didn’t see the way they interacted after the earthquake.” Ororo scoffed as she hurried after them. “She was literally coming out of his room, looking dishevelled and he talked about how she’d been in his bed. And then he kept calling her ‘darling’ and fussing over her before literally pulling her back into his room.”

“You use the word ‘literally’ too much.”

Jean chuckled at Scott’s comment. “I told her that, too.”

Jubilee shrugged a little. “That doesn’t mean she’s not right. She’s been wearing his cardian all day.”

“It’s cold.”

Kurt perked up at that. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Miss Brandt has been wearing the Professor’s cardigans for the whole week now.”

“You too, Kurt?”

“As I said, I think they might make a sweet couple.” Kurt commented before frowning a little. “But should we really be this invasive?”

“We should if it proves us right.” Ororo smirked.

“I just worry that this much snooping around will make them angry at us.” Kurt mumbled before looking at his telekenetic friend. “Also, Jean, why are we going to the sitting room? I’m pretty sure the fire went out hours ago.”

“I can fire it back up.”

Scott was the first to start and decent the stairs. But as soon as he got halfay down – and with that in eyesight of the sitting room – he stopped dead in his tracks, making Ororo collide with his back. She reared up to confront him about stopping but Scott put a finger to his lips and pointed at the open doors. Kurt leaned past Scott and quieted down immediately while Jubilee smacked her hand in front of her mouth to keep from making any sounds. Jean leaned forward and her mouth fell open.

At the end of the sitting room, by the fireplace sat none other than you and Charles, cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket. And the two of you were kissing. He was cupping your face, his fingers gently and lovingly stroking your face while yours were buried in his hair, tenderly raking over his scalp. Ororo turned to Scott and pointed a victorious finger at him but he was too busy watching as you leaned back against the arm of the sofa and Charles followed quickly to deepen the kiss, not wanting to part from it just yet.

Eventually, the two of you parted and Charles leaned his forehead against yours, earning himself a small smile and a chaste peck on his lips as you looked back at him. Your hands wandered down to the side of his face where you began to stroke his skin, making a smile appear on his face. He leaned into your touch, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Feeling a bit warmer now, my love?” Charles said softly, a bright smile appearing on his lips as you nodded in agreement. “I did promise to warm you up.”

“And you did a wonderful job at that, sweetheart.” You said in amusement, hand sliding down his neck to rest on his shoulder. “I feel very warm and very loved thanks to you.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Charles whispered, his smile faltering a little. “I do hate to see you cold and anxious about your memories, my darling. I know you’ve told me about your past many times but the thought of you being left out in the snow in an attempt to cure your pyrokinesis still upsets me terribly and makes me angry.”

“Don’t be, please.” You replied, leaning your forhead against his. “I’m here now and I’m safe. You make me feel safe, Sweetheart. Safe and warm.”

“That’s good.”

“You’re not cold either, are you?” You inquired in concern. “I know that you get cold easily and I also want to help you stay warm, especially since I pretty much stole all your cardigans.”

Charles laughed softly, obviously touched by your concern before pressing another quick kiss to your lips. “I’m fine, my love. It’s very warm in here and besides, I have you next to me to warm me up.”

“We could go upstairs and I could properly warm you up.”

“Later.” Charles promised before sitting back and stretching out his arm in invitation. “Stay by the fire with me a little longer, would you?”

“I’d love nothing more than that.”

With that, you leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss again but this time Charles didn’t reciprocate, instead pulling back and furrowing his brows. That got you to look up at him in concern, the hand you had placed on his shoulder tightening as you frowned.

“What’s wrong, Charles? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, love.” Charles said softly before his voice took on an amused tone. “But we’re not alone anymore.”

With that, he turned toward the door and subsequently the staircase, making you follow his gaze. The students froze where they were standing. While Kurt worried about you two being angry, Jean flushed at being spotted and Ororo gave a small wave. Scott looked away awkwardly and a wide grin spread across Jubilee’s face. But regardless of their reactions, all of them slowly made their way into the sitting room. By the time they were close by, you and Charles were sitting up straight again, turned so you could properly face the students. Charles looked pretty amused and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing at the situation.

“Now, my dears, how long have you been watching us?”

“We haven’t been watching you!” Kurt defended himself but quickly faltered as he realised that that wasn’t entirely true. “I mean, we sort of did but only for a few minutes.”

“We wanted to come into the sitting room to warm up and you two were sort of smooching on the sofa.” Ororo explained, waving at you and Charles on the couch.

“Smooching.” Scott snorted before shaking his head. “But they’re right. We’ve only been standing there for a minute or two.”

You shook your head in amusement, unable to keep a small laugh from escaping you as she watched their concerned faces. “Don’t worry now. You’re not in any trouble if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s a relief.” Jean said with a small smile. “We worried about that.”

“You two are such a sweet couple, Miss Brandt!” Jubilee suddenly exclaimed, smiling brightly at you and Charles. “And you look really happy together. It’s so good you’re finally together.”

“We are happy.” Charles confirmed, reaching out to take your hand into his. “But we have been in a relationship for a long time. Honestly, I was under the impression that it was fairly obvious.”

“At least we haven’t been keeping it a secret.” You threw in before shrugging. “But then again, we aren’t overly affectionate in the presence of our students. That would hardly be professional.”

“So you’ve been dating for a while now?”

“Yes, we’ve kept it professional but we haven’t been trying to keep it a secret.” Charles explained before nodding toward the fire. “Now, if you still want to warm up, you can find yourself a place to sit. The fire is shrinking now but I’m sure my lovely darling can stoke the flames a bit.”

At his words, you stood from the couch before walking over to the huge fireplace and using your powers to stoke the flames. Then you returned to your place next to Charles and leaned back against his side.

“So tell me, what have you kids been up to all day? I barely saw any students out and about today.” You mused as you looked around. “Where you in town or in your rooms?”

“We were in our rooms.” Scott explained, pulling his legs up onto the armchair. “We thought of going into town but--”

“But we got distracted arguing about whether or not you two were dating.” Jubilee joked, looking up at you from her spot on the carpet. “We were about to start a betting pool at this point.”

“A betting pool?” Charles laughed and shook his head. “Were you really that interested in whether or not we were a couple?”

“A lot of the other students were speculating, too.” Jean defended herself but relaxed when she saw you and Charles laughing at the situation. “The pool was Jubilee’s idea.”

Jubilee nodded in agreement before her eyes widened and she laughed. “You’re like the school’s parents now. X-Mom and X-Dad.”

“Interesting superhero names, for sure.” You chuckled and looked at Charles. “You can bet I will call you X-Dad from now on whenever you act parental.”

“Thank you for that, Jubilee.” Charles said in amusement, his arm pulling you closer as he looked back at you. “But while I don’t think you were being too invasive, I’d like to ask you all to respect our privacy. We want to keep everything professional.”

“Of course.” Jean nodded. “I’m sorry that we were so nosy and invasive.”

“There is no harm done, Jean. Everything’s alright.”

“I can’t believe you were right.” Scott joked. “I guess I was just oblivious.”

Ororo nodded and looked at Jean. “And you called us ridiculous.”

“I guess I got proven wrong.”

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Burgeon

Logan Howlett x Reader Sex Pollen

Summary: Reader works in the science lab at the mutant academy. Trying to grow a new plant from a mutated seed they had found. When the bloom puffs a cloud into her and Logan’s face they both begin feeling strange.

CW: oral m!receiving, oral f!receiving, biting, p in v, creampie

a/n: sorry this took so long to write I was depressed :D also surprise its today

~~~

You rested your head on your hands as you watched the plant in front of you slowly yet rapidly bloom a gorgeous, wine red bud. The way the flower held itself closed mesmerized you. How small bumps decorated the stem and the leaves along it were a dark purple color.

Logan, a.k.a. The Wolverine stood next to you. Piddling with one of the enclosed flora that was under surveillance. Not all that interested in the details of your work, but enjoying spending time with you. Especially when the big blue fur ball was not around to distract you. Dusk was approaching as it shined through the greenhouse windows. A beautiful color painted the sky as the darkness of the night approached.

“Oh, Logan! Look the bud is about to bloom!” You wrapped your arm around his pulling him over to you. He groaned as you pulled him over to you. You watched closely as the petals fought each other to release. Taking their sweet time to reveal the beauty within.

“Sure is taking its time,” Logan huffed, eyes fixated on you now. Loving how happy you looked awaiting the new flowers arrival.

The petals dispersed. Revealing the most beautiful black center of the flower. A large cloud of purple dust coming out with it. Before you could say anything, you and Logan both inhaled the fumes. Covering your mouth and coughing aggressively as the pollen stuck to the inside of your mouth. You wide eyed the plant, shocked at what came out of it.

“What the hell— that thing isn’t poisonous is it?!”

“I… I don’t really know,” you meekly whispered.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean we found this thing, noticed it was displaying some irregular behavior for a seedling of its type. And we decided to monitor it. I didn’t know it was going to cough up smoke at us!”

Logan stamped his foot. Frustrated by the lack of caring on your part. Pacing in a small circle next to you with the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Okay! We just have to stay here for the next 48 hours. Keep us under supervision just in case we feel any side effects. We go about our days like normal, just can’t leave the Academy,” you rubbed your hand up and down your arm. Logan irritably took a seat, head down with his hands folded over his lap. You grabbed the pod and placed it in a holding chamber all of its own. Walking over and kneeling down in front of Logan.

“I’m sorry. If I had known—“ you reached your hand out to rest it on Logan’s leg.

“You don’t have to be sorry. We can forget all about it at the party tonight. Celebrating whatever the hell Charles was on about,” Logan grinned at you.

You smiled, “I’ll celebrate anything if it means free drinks.”

Logan left the greenhouse while you finished up cleaning and double checking everything. A sudden hot flash washed over your body. Pulling a sweat from every inch of you. You fanned your hand in front of your face, your clothes feeling oddly tight suddenly. Maybe someone turned the heat up in the greenhouse. You walked over to check the thermostat. Nothing about the number had changed. As long as it was reading right you were comfortable leaving it be.

Walking up to your room. Heat engulfed you, a minor ache on your body now approaching. Choosing to ignore the problem entirely. Changing into something more comfortable for the evening ahead. Looking at yourself in the mirror when a sudden, promiscuous image flashed in your mind.

Logan.

Behind you. Both of you completely nude as he pounded into you. Watching yourself take him in the mirror. His hands splayed out on your chest, lips on your neck.

Your face flushed with your arousal. Unable to fight the feeling forming deep down inside you. Aching at your core. Leaning over your bed as you writhed.

The feeling of his hands grabbing your hips. Buried completely inside you. Your back arching to meet his thrusts. Head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

You gasped at the thought. Unsure of what was happening to you. Uncontrollably desire was taking over your body. Your hand found your aching core in an attempt to cool yourself down. Scrunching up your face at the feeling. It felt good, but not right. It was not what you needed. You needed him.

Your face was completely flushed with thoughts of Logan. Trying your hardest to make it less noticeable before going downstairs.

“Just stop,” you told yourself.

Heading down to the common area where all your fellow teachers had gathered. An adults only party, all the students were off away. You smiled as you greeted your fellow mutants. Getting stopped by Hank. His warm smile and soft eyes pulling your attention to him.

“Hi, Hank,” you smiled as you walked over to him.

“Hello, beautiful,” Hank grinned, fangs decorating his bright white smile. You thought about how his teeth would feel against your neck. Blushing at the idea of the large monster on top of you. Your thoughts suddenly morphing to fit Logan into your fantasy. Fangs nipping at your skin as strong hands held yours above your head. Panting as he thrusted into you. Sweat dripping down his forehead.

“Everything going good with that mysterious plant of yours?” Hank questioned, breaking your fantasy.

“Uh— Yeah, kinda. It bloomed today but some purple pollen came out it. Not sure if that’ll have any effect on me,” you droned off as you saw Logan enter the room. Completely fixated on him now. Seeing his bulging muscles revealed by his tank top. His broad shoulders and strong brow bone indicating he was some form of frustrated. His eyes finally caught yours. Awkwardly you turned back to focus on Hank as you continued on about the beauty of the mysterious flower. Unable to keep Logan in your peripheral. Excusing yourself from the conversation. Walking into a corner so you could scan the entire room. Unable to spot Logan anywhere.

Muscular arms wrapped around your waist. Almost calming the burn trickling down your nervous system. Nose finding its place in the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale. Your hands meeting those around you, feeling the veins popping out. Smell of musk and cologne overwhelming your senses.

A silent feeling that he understood exactly what you were going through.

“Smells so good,” his gruff, low voice rang in your ear. Your head leaning back against his shoulder, eyes straining to look at him. Black eyes stared at you. Pulling you flush against him, his semi-hard cock pressed into you. Chills ran up you. Rolling your hips to grind against him. A low groan, almost a growl, vibrated against your ear.

Hands inched down closer to the place you ached most. Fingers grazing the sweet spot causing you to arch backwards slightly. Circling your mound as his eyes scanned the room.

“Everyone is in here,” you whispered, a soft moan on your tone.

“I know,” he grumbled, kissing below your ear.

Both of you silently enjoyed the feeling of your bodies pressed together for a moment. How perfectly your body melted to his front. How the smell of him sent goosebumps down your body. The sound of his breathing in your ear pooling inside you.

“Saw you over there with furrball. He not tickling your fancy tonight?” Logan’s fingers dug into your skin, a hint of jealousy on his tone.

“No,” you simply said.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Logan groaned into your ear, “I could smell you from my fucking room. Need to rip these clothes off and get inside you right now.”

You choked on air. Realizing Logan was having the same feelings you were. Unsatisfiable desire.

“Didn’t matter how fucking good my hand felt, wasn’t right. It wasn’t you,” he purred. His fingers danced along the line of your pants, daring to dip under your clothes. Feeling your pantyline against his fingers, the softness of the lace continuing his desire. Your hand met his, intertwining fingers with him. Looking over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Lust blown eyes stared into yours. He plotted an escape route to make sure none of your coworkers watched you slip away together. Grabbing your hand and dragging you behind him.

His touch tingled against your skin. Your sensitive body being thrown into overdrive as you headed down the hallway together. Pulling you into a stairwell and turning to face you. His entire face was red, sweat beaming down his brow. You blushed. Eyes locked together, blown pupils matching each other.

“Dunno if I can wait much longer,” Logan growled as he palmed at himself through his jeans. You fell to your knees instinctively. Tugging at his belt, pulling a deep sigh from him. Releasing his fully erect cock from its confides. It sprung up, tip swollen and leaking. A thick vein wrapped around the underside. You felt your pussy clench around nothing, your mouth salivating at the sight of him. Doed eyes stared up at him, your hand grasping around his member. Lips pressing against the tip in a kiss. Logan moaned at your touch. His fingers tangled in your hair as he guided you down on him. Choking around his girth.

“That’s it,” Logan praised as he lead you up and down on his cock. Hollowing out your cheeks to take him all the way. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, fighting off your urge to gag. Feeling him twitch in your mouth, knowing it would not take long for you to get him there.

Logan’s eyes squinted shut as he finished in your mouth. A grunt as he held you in place. “It’s not enough,” he moaned. Eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at you. Reaching a hand down to help you up, “I need to be inside you.”

His words melted into your core. Igniting a primal feeling in you. You wrapped your hand around Logan’s leading him up the stairs.

“My room’s closer,” you answered the question you knew he was silently asking himself. A grin painted his face as he watched your ass bounce going up the stairs.

Hurriedly typing your code to access your room. Logan’s fingers rubbed circles on your core through your clothes. You arched your back into him, feeling his still completely erect dick. “‘M gonna fuck you so good, doll,” Logan purred in your ear pulling at the button on your pants. You bit your lip finally getting the door open. Logan practically shoved you inside.

Attaching his lips to yours immediately, hands cupping both sides of your face. His tongue penetrating your mouth as your teeth clinked together. You hooked your fingers under his tank top, pulling it over his head. His hairy, muscular chest was completely drenched in sweat. His lips attached onto your neck, tongue coming out to lick a stripe up your sensitive skin. “What’s going on with us?” Logan asked against your skin.

“I’dunno,” you moaned when his teeth grazed a spot you liked, “I just want you.” He smiled at your response.

Logan pushed you onto your back on the bed. Ripping your pants and panties off you. A gasp fell from you. “You’ve got plenty more,” he growled as he kneeled at the side of your bed. Pulling you so that he was directly in front of your core. Soaking the blanket underneath you as arousal took over every sense you had. Logan chuckled as he lapped at your core, “Tastes so good.” You arched your back off the bed at the sudden contact. Pushing yourself closer into his mouth. Furrowing your brows because — GOD — he felt good, but it just was not enough to cool the fire inside you. Grinding yourself against his face trying your damndest to reach your high. Logan latched onto you like an animal devouring his last meal. Fingers digging into your thighs, bruising the soft skin there. Hooded eyes stared up at your face admiring how you scrunched up your nose and hung your mouth open. The soft moans and squeaks pouring from your mouth like music to his ears. He rolled his hips into the side of the mattress, desperate to fuck you. But more desperate to get you off first.

Your nails dug into the soft blanket below you. Riding his tongue through your orgasm. Body jolting and legs shaking. His name a scream on your lips. Logan pulled away, his face soaked in your juices. Dropping his pants to the floor. He stroked himself as he stared at your entrance. Your body still basking in the afterglow of orgasm. Logan pounced on top of you. Gently removing your top, lips finding their place on your exposed breasts. Biting through the fabric of your bra to play with your nipples. Licking and sucking the thin material. His hand pinched at the opposite one. Lips dancing up your neck, biting at your jaw.

Rolling his exposed cock into your soaked entrance. The first bit of relief you had felt all day. A shaky moan escaping you. Logan smirked above you, leaning his head back feeling how your body begged for him. Sliding his member through your slit, collecting all your wetness on him. “My pretty girl,” he praised, “I’m gonna fill you up to the goddamn hilt.”

Easing his way into you. Your walls practically pulling him in. Both of you moaned in harmony, throwing your heads back. “That’s more like it,” he cooed. Easy himself back before slamming back in. Setting himself at a brutal pace. The sound of skin smacking together filled the room. He panted above you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You leaned forward to catch him in a kiss, Logan’s body slouching so that your front were pressed firmly together. Curving his arms under you, holding you tight as he fucked into you. A huff of breath falling from him with each snap of hips. He held you close, lips pressed against your neck. An occasional kiss being planted there. “You take cock so well. I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” he growled against your skin.

You clawed at his back. Desperate to hold him closer. Scratching down his body, pulling a moan from him. His pace was growing sloppy as he approached his own high. Your pussy still sensitive from your own. Walls clenching when he’d hit deep inside you. “Gonna be so full of me aren’t you? Little cum slut,” Logan grunted with each of his thrusts.

Logan attached his lips back to yours desperately panting and moaning as he felt himself about to finish. Sheathing himself fully inside you as he shot his seed. The feeling of him soothed the burn you had been feeling. Relieved by how perfectly he filled you up. You felt him grin against your skin, slumping all his body weight into you momentarily.

“Could stay like this all night,” he whispered in your ear. You petted his back, kissing him on the cheek.

“Yeah?”

“That way I can already be inside you when I feel like I gotta soothe the feeling again,” Logan playfully bit at your cheek.

~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I know this fic has been a long time coming so I hope it was a great read! I plan on writing quite a lot for the month of October, so if you have any requests send them my way! My next Logan fic is gonna be a Werewolf!AU //

{tags}

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @goodness-gracious13 ~ @figsnpassionfruits ~ @gretavankleep37 ~ @shinysam29 ~ @sunnyfranc ~ @savy-luvs-dilfs ~ @ayamenimthiriel ~ @megangovier ~ @its-in-the-woods ~ @father-of-2cats ~ @atthediscowithoutpanic ~

[mcrdvcks]

Oblivious, Baby, Oblivious

Summary: People would tell you that geniuses don't know everything, but you tell them that defeats the purpose of the word. Until one day you're proven wrong.

Word Count: 17.4k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x fem!reader

Notes: i came up with this idea a few days ago and had to write it down. basically reader is a genius and her mutation is controlling nature (her code name is 'flora' but it's not used often. and yes, it's a winx club reference, sue me)

i tried to make it as inclusive as i could, but i'm still learning since this is only my second reader fic.

i would like to turn this into a oneshot series, so don't be afraid to send in any requests!

warnings: few uses of y/n, logan uses a lot of pet names for reader, slight innocent!reader

You had only been at the X-Mansion for a year and yet all the students seemed to love you. At first, you thought that no teenager would want to come out to the large greenhouse you had set up, but you were proven wrong.

At the end of every day, right before dinner, dozens of kids would come out and help you water the plants and pull out the weeds.

It was certainly not what you expected to do after college, especially after only having your PhD’s for 2 years. It had all started when you met Hank McCoy at a science conference in New York City. You had graduated a mere few weeks ago and were out trying to network when you met him.

After that, Hank took you to meet Charles Xavier and he offered you a two-sided job, teach a few classes and be part of the X-Men, after you went through some training. You didn’t know how to fight at the beginning, but now you think you’ve got the hang of it.

You had just finished teaching your advanced physics class, standing at your desk gathering up the papers before going to your office to grade them, when someone knocked on the open classroom door.

Logan stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with that usual smirk tugging at his lips. “You done for the day, sweetheart?”

You looked up from the pile of papers, surprised to see him there, though you probably shouldn’t have been. Logan had this way of showing up whenever you least expected it, always with some sort of pet name that left your students giggling.

When you first arrived at the school and started your training, it was Logan and Ororo who helped you learn how to fight. You certainly were not on a level like Logan, but you now knew how to hold your own without completely relying on your powers.

Logan was probably the one you were closest to at the mansion, save for Ororo and Jean. You enjoyed his company, even in the late nights when you would tend to the plants and he would stand quietly nearby smoking a cigar.

“Just about,” you replied, straightening the stack. “I was going to head to my office and grade these. Why? You need something?”

Logan pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered toward you, his boots thudding lightly against the floor. “Can’t a guy just drop by and check in on ya?”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess, but somehow I doubt you’re just here to ‘check in.’” You shuffled the papers into a neat stack, slipping them into a folder. “So, what’s up?”

Logan shrugged, hands now in his jacket pockets as he stood a few feet away from your desk. “You’ve been buried in books and papers all week. Thought you could use a break.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’ll be done grading these in like an hour. It doesn’t take me long. Unlike someone else.”

Logan snorted, a small smile forming as he tilted his head at you. "Yeah, well, not all of us have two fancy PhDs and can finish things in a blink, darlin’."

You laughed softly, putting the papers into your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “You’re just mad because I keep proving I’m right.” You rounded your desk, smirking. “Plus, I’m having a movie night with Jean and Ororo. See? I can take breaks.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he leaned in just a little, casting you that knowing look he always had when he was teasing you. “Movie night, huh? Lemme guess—something boring and science-y?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you zipped up your bag. “Not every movie night is a science documentary, Logan.”

“Mmhmm,” he replied, the teasing drawl in his voice making it clear he didn’t believe you for a second. “So, what are you watchin’, then? Some quantum physics thriller?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning. “It’s The Princess Diaries this time, actually. But I do like documentaries, so don’t knock them.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and deep, and for a moment it made you forget the pile of grading still waiting for you. “I’ll let it slide this time, darlin’. But if I hear you talkin’ about how accurate the physics are in some movie during your ‘break,’ I’m dragging you out of that mansion myself.”

You gave him a mock-serious look. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I would,” he shot back, his smirk widening. “And we both know I could.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasn’t wrong. Logan had a way of just picking you up—literally—and dragging you away when he thought you’d been working too hard. Sometimes you suspected he enjoyed it a little too much.

Before you could retort, Logan's expression softened slightly. “Look, Y/N, I’m serious. You’ve been bustin’ your ass all week. Go take a real break tonight, will ya?”

There it was again. That rare softness he showed only to you, like the tough exterior melted away for just a second. You never really knew how to respond when he got like that, so you shrugged casually and smiled. “I’ll take it easy tonight. Promise.”

“Good,” he said, his voice gruff but warm. “’Cause I don’t wanna hear about you passin’ out from exhaustion or whatever it is geniuses do when they work themselves to death.”

You walked to the door and turned back to face him, “Einstein slept 10 hours during the night and took regular naps.” You gave him a wink and walked down the hall towards your office, a satisfied smirk on your face.

Logan watched you disappear down the hallway, shaking his head with a faint smile. He wasn't sure when it started, but something about your energy, the way you threw yourself into everything—whether it was the students, your research, or even the X-Men's missions—had caught his attention. And now, it was hard to get you out of his head, let alone his senses.

He could always tell when you were nearby or recently in an area—your perfume was inherently you, mango with an undercurrent of something woodsy. And you always looked cute, a word Logan thought he’d never use. You constantly wore colors, usually pastels in varying shades, whether it be a shirt, your shoes, or even accessories in your hair. It was almost ridiculous how someone with two PhDs and the kind of brain that could out-think just about everyone around her could be so oblivious to certain things.

And that was why he found you so fascinating.

You were brilliant, no doubt about it—always talking about equations, theories, and whatever else you’d been reading about. But somehow, you never seemed to notice when he was flirting with you, which had become Logan's new favorite game. He knew exactly what he was doing when he called you varying nicknames.

It wasn’t like it was a secret either; pretty much everyone at the mansion had picked up on it. Hell, even the students were in on it, giggling whenever Logan tossed a pet name your way or gave you one of those half-smirks that drove everyone else insane.

Everyone except you, apparently.

You walked down the hall, completely unaware of the looks you were getting, or the fact that Logan’s eyes lingered a bit longer than they should have as you disappeared around the corner. Shaking his head, he let out a low chuckle before heading toward the garage. Maybe a ride on his bike would clear his head, though it probably wouldn’t. You had a way of sticking in his mind, even when you weren’t around.

---

Later that night, you were sprawled on the couch in one of the common rooms, sandwiched between Jean and Ororo as the three of you laughed at the antics on screen. The Princess Diaries was playing, and though you’d seen it a dozen times, it never failed to make you laugh.

You had your hair tied up and off your neck, and you were dressed in one of your usual casual outfits—leggings and an oversized hoodie that probably belonged to one of the guys in the mansion, though you couldn’t remember who. Logan’s scent faintly lingered on it, but you didn't think much of it.

You shifted comfortably, pulling your legs up to curl under you as Jean and Ororo sat on either side, each of you clutching bowls of popcorn and laughing at the antics in The Princess Diaries.

“I still don’t get how a movie about a teenager becoming a princess is this funny,” Jean said, shaking her head as she stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, shouldn’t it be cheesy?”

“It is cheesy,” you countered, laughing as Mia slipped and fell in the movie. “But it’s good cheesy. There’s a difference.”

Ororo chuckled, glancing at you with an amused smile. “You’ve seen this how many times now?”

“Don’t judge me,” you teased, tossing a piece of popcorn in her direction, which she easily swatted away with a smirk. “This is a classic.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, giving you a playful nudge. “More classic than, say, 2001: A Space Odyssey? That seems more your speed.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Not every movie I watch has to be some cerebral masterpiece, Jean.”

Ororo smiled knowingly. “Mmm, true, but you’re always spouting off facts about space or physics during random moments in these movies.”

“That’s because science is everywhere!” you replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “You can’t not notice when something’s wrong.”

Jean grinned. “Like that time you paused Star Wars just to give us a lecture on how light speed doesn’t work like that?”

You huffed a laugh. “Well, it doesn’t. It’s all—”

“Science, we know,” Ororo finished, sharing a look with Jean that made you roll your eyes again.

“Okay, okay,” you conceded, holding up your hands. “I’ll try not to nerd out tonight.”

“That’s all we ask,” Jean said, smirking as she leaned back on the couch, throwing a kernel of popcorn into her mouth.

For the next hour or so, the three of you watched the movie without incident, though you had to bite your tongue more than once. A promise was a promise, after all.

When the movie ended, Ororo stretched and got up from the couch. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.”

“Same,” Jean said, standing and offering you a soft smile.

“Guess I’ll get ready for bed too, then.” You replied. Each of you headed to your rooms, Jean shared one with Scott down the hall from you, and Ororo’s room was close by theirs.

Your room was full of plants, small vines on the walls and windowsills, along with potted flowers across the room. It had been habit ever since you learned about your powers to always be surrounded by them, it gave you a sense of peace.

Taking off your clothes you got into the shower, where more plants were, including a rhaphidophora tetrasperma and a maidenhair fern.

You smiled to yourself, relishing the small oasis you’d created in your bathroom. The plants thrived in here, the humidity of your showers mimicking their natural habitat. It was a simple pleasure to see something flourish under your care, which was probably why you always surrounded yourself with greenery.

You rinsed off, the water now lukewarm as it cascaded over you, and turned the shower off. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out, the cool air hitting your skin as you moved toward the mirror. You wiped a hand across the fogged glass, revealing your reflection. You took off your shower cap, letting your hair free from its constraints.

There was a faint knock at your door, and you glanced toward it, frowning. Who would be knocking at this hour?

“Y/N?” Logan’s voice came from the other side. “You still awake?”

Your eyes widened slightly. What was Logan doing here? You quickly pulled on some comfortable clothes—an oversized t-shirt and shorts—before cracking the door open to find Logan leaning against the frame, his usual smirk in place.

“Logan? It’s kind of late. What’s up?” you asked, holding the door open just enough for him to see you but not enough to fully invite him in.

He shrugged, his eyes briefly scanning you before locking on yours. “Came by to see if you wanted to take a walk. Figured you might still be awake.”

You blinked, taken aback. “A walk? Now?”

“Yeah,” he replied casually, as if asking you to go for a walk at nearly midnight was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re always sayin’ how you like the way the plants look at night. Thought maybe you’d want some fresh air.”

You hesitated for a moment, considering his offer. You had planned on heading to bed soon, but you couldn’t deny the appeal of a nighttime walk—especially with Logan. The mansion grounds were peaceful at this hour, and the idea of walking among the moonlit flowers sounded tempting.

“Alright,” you said, pushing the door open the rest of the way. “Let me put on some shoes.”

Logan nodded, leaning back against the doorframe as he waited, his arms crossing over his chest. You slipped on a pair of sneakers, quickly tying the laces.

“Ready,” you said, adjusting your shirt and stepping out into the hallway.

Logan pushed off the frame and started walking beside you, his steps easy and casual. The mansion was quiet, most of the students already asleep, and you could hear the soft hum of night settling in as you both made your way outside. The cool air greeted you as you stepped into the garden, and you couldn’t help but smile as the scent of flowers and earth filled your senses.

“So,” Logan said after a moment, his hands sliding into his jacket pockets, “how was the movie?”

You smiled, glancing at him. “It was good. A classic, really.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Jean and Ororo didn’t give you a hard time?”

You chuckled. “Well, they did try to poke fun at my love for science, but nothing too bad. It was all in good fun.”

Logan smirked. “Yeah, they like to tease. Just means they’re comfortable around ya.”

You gave a small nod, your gaze shifting to the moonlit flowers around you. You loved the way the plants seemed to glow in the night, the way everything felt so peaceful at this hour. It was one of the reasons you often came out here at night when the mansion was quiet and still.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a while, the soft sounds of nature surrounding you. Logan didn’t say much, but that was one of the things you liked about him—he didn’t need to fill the air with pointless conversation. He was just… there, steady and solid, like the trees you so loved to be around.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, taking in his relaxed posture, the way his jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and the ever-present smirk tugging at his lips. You wondered briefly what he thought of these walks. He always seemed to show up at the right moments, offering his company when you needed it most, even if you didn’t realize you needed it at the time.

“So, Logan,” you started, your voice casual as you glanced at a cluster of moonlit lilies, “what’s the real reason you wanted to walk tonight? I know you didn’t just suddenly decide to take in the scenery.”

He chuckled, low and deep, as he shifted his gaze to the path ahead. “Maybe I like the scenery more than I let on.”

“Right,” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’ve definitely seen you out here admiring the roses before.”

“Who says I’m talkin’ about the roses, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, though a faint smile played at your lips. “Uh-huh. Keep dreaming, Logan.”

There was that playful glint in his eyes again, the one you’d grown used to but never quite understood. He always had this way of teasing you—soft, subtle comments that seemed to amuse him more than anything else. It wasn’t like you minded, though. You liked the banter, even if you never quite knew why he seemed to engage in it with you so much.

You gave him a sidelong glance, but Logan’s expression remained as it usually did—a little cocky, a little mysterious, his hands resting casually in his jacket pockets as he walked alongside you. The moonlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the path, and you found your gaze drifting back to the flowers blooming in the gardens. The peace of the night wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and for a moment, you almost forgot Logan was there.

“Y’know,” Logan said after a stretch of silence, his voice low and lazy, “you really are a mystery, sweetheart.”

You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “What do you mean by that?”

Logan shrugged, his eyes briefly flicking to yours before looking ahead again. “You’re this genius, right? Got two PhDs, can out-think just about anyone in the room. But sometimes… you’re completely clueless.”

You scoffed, giving him an incredulous look. “Clueless? Me? I don’t think that’s possible.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that teasing smile. “Yeah, darlin’. Clueless. You know a hell of a lot about a lot of things, but when it comes to readin’ people? Not so much.”

Your frown deepened. “I think I read people just fine, Logan.”

He stopped walking then, turning to face you with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Oh, do ya?”

“Yeah,” you insisted, crossing your arms over your chest. “I spend a lot of time around people. I know how to pick up on things.”

Logan’s smile widened, like he was holding back laughter. “Is that so?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, confused by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yes, that’s so. What are you getting at?”

Logan’s grin widened as he saw you narrow your eyes, your arms crossed in clear frustration. There was something about how easily he could rile you up, how your normally sharp mind would stumble whenever he teased you, that made him enjoy these moments even more.

“You’re dodging the question,” you pressed, sensing that his silence was deliberate. “What are you getting at?”

Logan shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the nearest tree, his usual smirk in place. “I’m just sayin’, for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, you don’t always see what’s right in front of you.”

You let out a huff, clearly not satisfied with his answer. “I see everything just fine, Logan. You’re not exactly subtle, you know.”

“Subtle, huh?” Logan echoed, his grin softening into a more thoughtful expression. “Maybe I’m not. Or maybe you’re just a little too focused on the wrong things.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but as usual, Logan didn’t offer anything more. He simply stood there, his eyes watching you carefully, as if enjoying the little mystery he’d planted in your mind. You could practically see the amusement dancing behind his gaze.

“This is just another one of your games, isn’t it?” you muttered, though there was no real bite in your tone. “You like keeping me guessing.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “Keeps things interestin’, don’t ya think?”

You rolled your eyes again, turning away from him as you started walking down the path. You weren’t going to let him keep you on edge like this. You had better things to think about than whatever half-assed answer Logan was playing at tonight.

Logan fell into step beside you, his hands tucked back into his pockets. The two of you walked in silence for a bit longer, and despite the earlier tension, you found yourself relaxing once more. The garden was quiet, the night cool and calm. Logan’s presence, as always, was steady beside you, even if he did like to mess with your head sometimes.

“You know,” you began after a while, your voice softer now, “just because I’m a genius doesn’t mean I’m completely oblivious to people. I do pick up on things.”

Logan shot you a sideways glance, that infuriating smirk back on his face. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious!” you insisted, though a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “I just… maybe I’m not as concerned with people’s motives as much as I am with facts and data. It’s different.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem, doll. You think you can figure out everything like it’s a puzzle. But people? We’re a little more complicated than that.”

You tilted your head, thinking about that. “I don’t see why it has to be complicated. People say what they mean, don’t they?”

Logan paused for a moment, his smirk turning into something more thoughtful. “Not always.”

There was a heaviness in his voice that made you glance up at him, but before you could ask what he meant, he turned his head away, eyes focused on something in the distance. The moment passed, and Logan was back to his usual self, his grin in place as if nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “how’s your latest project goin’? Still messing with those gadgets?”

You sighed, the shift in conversation allowing you to relax again. “Yeah, still working on a few prototypes. Hank’s been helping me out with some of the materials, but we’re having trouble stabilizing the energy output.”

Logan nodded, listening with genuine interest. “Sounds like somethin’ you’ll figure out soon enough.”

“I hope so,” you said with a small smile. “But it’s been a little frustrating.”

“Not used to runnin’ into roadblocks, huh?” Logan teased.

“Not really,” you admitted, a touch of sheepishness in your tone. “I’m used to things coming together quickly once I have all the information. This one’s been… tricky.”

Logan gave a low hum of understanding. “That’s the thing about science, sweetheart. It ain’t always predictable.”

“Yeah, but I like predictability,” you said with a shrug. “It makes sense. People, on the other hand…”

Logan laughed at that, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

The two of you continued your walk, the conversation drifting to lighter topics—projects, students at the mansion, the occasional prank pulled by one of the younger mutants. You liked how easy it was to talk to Logan, even when he teased you or left you hanging on a thought. He was always there, listening, offering his dry commentary when it was needed.

As you walked, you found yourself glancing at him every now and then, taking in the way the moonlight caught his features, the rough stubble on his jaw, the confident way he carried himself. You didn’t understand why he spent so much time around you, especially when he had no trouble being alone or doing his own thing. Logan didn’t seem like the type to go out of his way for someone, and yet… here he was.

“Logan?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” he replied, his gaze shifting to you.

“Why do you do this?”

He frowned, genuinely confused. “Do what?”

“Walk with me. Spend time with me. You’re not exactly the most sociable guy around here.”

Logan gave a low chuckle, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “Maybe I like your company, sweetheart. Ever think of that?”

You blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. It wasn’t like Logan to be so direct about… feelings. You weren’t sure how to respond, so you simply looked away, feeling a slight warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“I guess I never really thought about it,” you admitted after a moment.

Logan’s smirk returned, but there was something softer behind it this time. “That’s ‘cause you’re too busy thinkin’ about everythin’ else, doll.”

You didn’t respond right away, still processing his words. Logan wasn’t one to lay things out so plainly, but when he did, it always seemed to catch you off guard. He had this way of making you question things—yourself, your understanding of the world—without ever really giving you any answers. It was frustrating, but at the same time, it was… endearing.

As the two of you walked back toward the mansion, the quiet settling over you once more, you couldn’t help but wonder what Logan had meant earlier. About you being ‘clueless.’ It wasn’t like you didn’t notice things—sure, people had their layers, but you weren’t blind to them. So what was he talking about?

---

The next morning, you were back in your usual routine—teaching classes, working in the greenhouse, and helping the students with their studies. It was a busy day, but you didn’t mind. The students were eager to learn, and you found a sense of satisfaction in watching them grow and develop their skills.

After your last class, you made your way to the greenhouse, your favorite part of the day. The students had already watered the plants earlier, so you spent some time pruning and checking on the growth of the flowers and vegetables.

The sound of footsteps approaching caught your attention, and you turned to see Logan leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, glancing up from the plant you were tending to.

Logan shrugged. “Figured I’d stop by. See how you’re doin’.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “You checking up on me again?”

He chuckled. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on ya, sweetheart.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you turned back to your plants. “I’m fine, Logan. Really.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice closer now. You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing just a few feet away, watching you with that same unreadable expression he always seemed to have around you. “But it doesn’t hurt to check in every now and then.”

Logan looked over at a large strawberry plant in the corner, it seemed to have a lot of yield, bright red strawberries hanging from the branches.

“You ever try a strawberry with no pesticides?” You asked, standing up from the ground and taking off your gloves. You looked around the plant before pulling what you thought looked to be the best of the bunch, holding it out for him. Since it was August, the strawberries were soon going to go out of season, so this was the last good batch you were going to get.

Logan raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly as he eyed the fruit in your hand. "I’ve had my share of wild strawberries, sweetheart, but never from your garden.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him with the strawberry still outstretched. “Wild strawberries? Really, Logan? This is organic, homegrown perfection. Totally different experience.”

He chuckled, finally taking the strawberry from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief second. It was so brief you didn’t think much of it, but Logan’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he popped the strawberry into his mouth.

“Well?” you asked, watching him expectantly. “What do you think?”

Logan chewed slowly, his eyes not leaving yours. “Sweet,” he finally said, his voice low. “Real sweet.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer, though you didn’t quite catch the way his gaze lingered on you as he said it. “Told you,” you said, turning back to the plant to grab a strawberry for yourself. “Fresh strawberries are unbeatable.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you take a bite. “You take real pride in this, don’t ya?”

“Of course,” you said, glancing at him between bites. “There’s something rewarding about growing things. Watching them thrive under the right conditions. It’s like… I don’t know, creating life.”

Logan’s eyes softened as he listened to you talk, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You care a lot about the little det- ” He was cut off by surprise, your thumb brushing the corner of his lips wiping off some of the strawberry juice.

You seemed to not think much about it, nor did you notice Logan’s heart sped up with your simple touch. It was over quick, you let out a soft gasp and walked behind him, looking up at a vine at the top where you saw a few ripe kiwis.

You reached your palm out, focusing your energy on the vines at the top of the greenhouse. They shifted gently, as if responding to your silent command, dropping three ripe kiwis into your hand. You grinned, knowing Jean would appreciate the fresh fruit later. It wasn’t easy growing kiwis in New York, but your powers made up for the climate’s shortcomings. Nature seemed to bend to your will, a fact you took quiet pride in, even though you’d never flaunt it.

Meanwhile, Logan was still in slight shock from your gesture, he could almost feel the spot where your thumb brushed against him, almost as if it was the most natural thing in the world. And you did it without thinking, in fact, you still didn’t seem to notice him looking at your back as you picked a few bunches of basil.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It wasn’t just the way you talked about plants or how your hands moved with skill and grace—it was you, completely unaware of how you affected him. Completely unaware that his heart rate had spiked at the smallest, most innocent touch.

“Something wrong?” you asked, not even turning around as you picked at the herbs.

Logan blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. “Nah, just... thinkin’. You’re somethin’, you know that?”

You gave a short laugh, pausing to glance back at him over your shoulder. “If that’s your way of saying I’m a genius again, I already know.”

He chuckled, moving to stand a bit closer. “That’s not exactly what I meant, sweetheart.” His voice was low, with that familiar gravelly tone he used when teasing you.

But as usual, the hint flew right past you. “Well, whatever it is, I’ll take it as a compliment.” You plucked another handful of basil leaves, slipping them into a small basket on the bench. “And you should try to be more specific next time, Logan. It helps with communication.”

“Specific, huh?” Logan leaned a little against the workbench beside you, arms crossed. “Alright then, you’re smart, sure. But there’s more to it than that. You... you just do things without even thinking about it. Like earlier.” His eyes flickered briefly to your hand.

You frowned a little, confused. “Earlier? You mean the strawberry thing? Or when I wiped the juice off your face?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “That.”

You blinked, not understanding why he was making such a big deal of it. “Logan, it was just strawberry juice. You looked like you were about to walk into a meeting with half a fruit smeared on your face.”

Logan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, doll. I get that.” He watched as you turned back to your plants, completely oblivious to the fact that what had been a small, thoughtless gesture for you had stirred something deeper for him. He found it both amusing and frustrating—not in an annoying way, but in a way that made him want to get closer to you, to push the boundaries just a little more.

“So,” you said, shifting the subject as you snipped a bit more basil. “What’s got you wandering into the greenhouse today? It’s not exactly your usual haunt.”

Logan leaned back, watching you with those intense eyes of his. “Just felt like stoppin’ by. Spend some time with you. Ain’t that a good enough reason?”

You rolled your eyes, though your smile was genuine. “I suppose. It’s just... you don’t usually care about plants and stuff.”

“Well, maybe I’m changin’,” Logan said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” You paused, glancing at him as you picked up a watering can. “So... you wanna help?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Me? Helpin’ with your garden?”

“Why not?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “You’ve got hands, don’t you? It’s not all that complicated.”

He chuckled, reaching out to take the watering can from you, brushing his fingers against yours for a second time. “Alright, sweetheart, show me how it’s done.”

You handed him the can and pointed to a row of lavender plants nearby. “Just give them a little water. Not too much though—they don’t like it when their roots get too wet.”

Logan followed your instructions with a kind of amused curiosity, watching as the water trickled from the can onto the plants. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally found himself doing, but there was something about the simplicity of it, something about you, that made it... well, not so bad.

“You really know your stuff, don’t ya?” Logan remarked after a few moments, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

“Well, yeah,” you said, turning to grab some tools from a nearby shelf. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Plus, it’s kind of in my wheelhouse, you know? With the whole ‘controlling nature’ thing.”

Logan smirked, setting the watering can down as he leaned against the bench again. “Yeah, I’ve seen you do some pretty wild things with those powers of yours. But you don’t talk about ‘em much.”

“I talk to them.” You said, hiding a grin from growing on your face.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

You laughed as you stood up, throwing a few weeds in a separate basket. “No. I was joking!”

Logan let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head at you. “You got me there, sweetheart,” he said, still leaning against the bench, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

You grabbed a nearby hose, turning the water on low to rinse your hands. "Can't believe you thought I was serious. I mean, I get along with plants, but I don’t have full-on conversations with them. That’d be weird."

"Wouldn't surprise me with you, doll," Logan replied, still watching you intently. "You seem to know what everything around here needs, even without talkin' to 'em."

You shrugged, drying your hands on a towel. "It’s just intuition, I guess. Plants give off signals if you know how to read them."

Logan gave you a long look, his smirk softening into something almost affectionate, though you didn’t notice. "You sure it's just the plants you read that well?"

You looked up at him, confused for a second, but quickly shook your head, dismissing his comment. "Are you gonna keep talking, or are you actually going to help me?”

Logan pushed himself off the bench, standing up straight. "Alright, alright. Where do you want me, doll?"

You handed him the basket full of weeds, “throw them out.”

He raised an eyebrow, “that’s it?”

You handed Logan the basket of weeds, his hand brushing against yours for the third time today. He smirked slightly, but you, as usual, were completely unaware of the subtle tension.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in response to his earlier question, balancing two baskets filled with freshly picked fruits, vegetables, and herbs in your arms. “I’m gonna lock up and bring these inside.”

Logan didn’t move for a second, watching as you turned your back and headed toward the door, the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the greenhouse. For someone so sharp, so brilliant, you seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he enjoyed these little moments with you.

That small, unspoken connection you two had—the one where you never quite seemed to notice that he was flirting with you—had started to become his favorite part of the day. Even if it had been going on for 8 months, and yes, he was counting.

As you reached for the lock on the greenhouse door, you glanced over your shoulder. “You’re still standing there, Logan. Are you gonna help or just watch me carry all this stuff by myself?”

Logan’s smirk widened. “Oh, I was just enjoyin' the view, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, missing the deeper meaning in his words, as usual. “Right. Well, the view can help me with these baskets if it’s not too busy.”

Logan chuckled softly, walking over to you and easily taking one of the baskets from your hands. “You got it, doll. I’ll lend a hand.”

Together, you made your way toward the mansion, the quiet of the late afternoon settling around you. It was peaceful, in that way you liked—just the sound of your footsteps on the gravel path, the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, and the low hum of the cicadas in the trees. Logan had quickly thrown away the weeds and rejoined you, taking the other basket out of your hand, saying something about how he was ‘being a gentleman.’

You both entered the mansion from the back door, making your way to the kitchen where Logan placed the baskets on the island. Jean and Scott were already in there, Jean making her way over to the two baskets.

You, having an inkling for what she was looking for, reached into one of the baskets and pulled out the 3 kiwis. You handed the kiwis over to Jean, a smile playing on your lips as she quickly clutched them to her chest, almost like they were gold. It wasn’t the first time she’d done this, and it always amused you. Scott, of course, tried to intervene, reaching out to snatch one, but Jean shot him a look that was part-serious, part-playful.

“Hey, those are for me,” she said, moving slightly to block Scott’s hand. “I’ve been waiting for these kiwis all week.”

Scott smirked but backed off, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, babe.”

Jean gave him a victorious smile, then turned to you. “Thanks, Y/N. You always come through with the best fruit.”

“Of course,” you replied, wiping your hands on a nearby towel. “You’ve been asking for kiwis since the season started, so I figured it was about time I delivered.”

Logan, still standing nearby, watched the interaction with a subtle smirk on his face. He leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, looking completely relaxed but attentive.

“You sure know how to make people happy, doll,” Logan said, his voice low but teasing. “Always goin’ above and beyond for everyone.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “It’s just a few kiwis, Logan. Nothing special.”

Jean, now satisfied with her prized fruit, glanced between the two of you with a curious look, sensing something in Logan’s tone. She had noticed the way he’d been hanging around you more than usual lately, and it wasn’t hard to pick up on the little glances he threw your way when you weren’t looking. Of course, you remained blissfully unaware of it all, as always.

“You’re selling yourself short,” Jean said, throwing you a grin. “It’s not just the kiwis. You’ve practically turned the greenhouse into a mini-Eden. We all appreciate it, even if Scott can’t admit he’s jealous of my fruit.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his smile betrayed him. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the garden, Y/N.”

You smiled at the compliment, though it didn’t feel like anything out of the ordinary to you. Taking care of the plants, helping out with the students, it was all part of your routine. You liked it that way—predictable, manageable. You didn’t dwell on the subtleties of interpersonal dynamics the way others seemed to.

Logan’s smirk widened slightly at Jean’s comment, but he kept quiet, watching you interact with the others. There was something about the way you brushed off compliments so easily, like you didn’t quite grasp how much people appreciated you around here.

You had already put a few strawberries in a glass bowl, making your way out of the kitchen to Ororo’s office without saying a word, something they were already used to.

“You sure you’re not going to say anything? You know, that’s actually straight to the point?” Jean asked Logan.

Scott reached into one of the baskets, pulling out a few blueberries, “at this point, you’re like a love-sick puppy following her around.”

Logan let out a low growl, plucking a strawberry out from the basket. “Keep talking dickhead.” He threatened.

Jean raised an eyebrow as she leaned against the counter, her sharp eyes flicking between Logan and Scott. "He’s not wrong though, Logan. You’ve been spending more time with Y/N than usual. We’ve all noticed."

Logan grunted, pushing himself off the counter and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "She’s a good kid. Someone’s gotta keep an eye on her."

Scott smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Right, keepin' an eye on her. That's what we’re calling it now?"

Jean shot Scott a playful glare, but her attention quickly shifted back to Logan. “You know, you could just tell her how you feel. She’s oblivious, but she’s not stupid. Sooner or later, she’s going to notice.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, and he glanced toward the door where you had just left. His emotions were complicated—he’d never been one for opening up, and the idea of confessing anything, especially something as vulnerable as his feelings for you, wasn’t exactly in his comfort zone. He had been through too much, lost too many people, and the thought of letting himself get close to someone again... well, it scared him more than he cared to admit.

“She’s got her own life,” Logan muttered, his voice gruff but softer now. “I ain’t lookin’ to mess that up.”

Jean sighed, walking over to stand next to Logan, her tone gentle but firm. “Logan, you’re not messing anything up. In fact, I think you’d be adding something important to her life. She’s not the type to see you as a burden or a distraction. She probably wouldn’t even realize you were flirting with her until you hit her over the head with it.”

Logan huffed a half-hearted laugh, but the tension in his shoulders remained. “Maybe that’s the problem. She’s too damn focused on other stuff to even see it.”

Jean smiled softly, placing a hand on Logan’s arm. “That’s what makes her so special, Logan. She’s genuine, selfless, and probably the least manipulative person in this mansion. She doesn’t play games—what you see is what you get. And she likes you, even if she doesn’t realize it in the same way you do yet.”

Scott, still lounging in his chair, added, “Plus, you know, if you wait too long, someone else might catch her eye. Just sayin’.”

Logan shot Scott a glare that could have melted steel. “Ain’t nobody else gonna catch her eye, Summers. Trust me on that.”

Jean chuckled softly, giving Logan’s arm a reassuring squeeze before stepping back. “Well, when you’re ready, just remember—it’s okay to take a chance on her. You might be surprised by how things turn out.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, his mind already spinning with conflicting thoughts. He appreciated Jean’s support, but the fear of rejection, of losing someone else important to him, gnawed at his insides. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. And what if telling you how he felt ruined the easy, comfortable dynamic you two had? What if he lost the one person in the mansion who treated him like a normal man instead of a gruff, dangerous mutant?

Jean and Scott exchanged a knowing glance, but they let Logan mull over his thoughts in silence. They could push him only so far before it was up to him to take the next step.

---

You were walking down the halls with your bag in over your shoulder, all you needed to do was get to your office and take these heels off.

They looked cute online, not too tall or high, had some cushion on the soles, but wearing them was a completely different story. Which was sad because they were a cute baby pink which went well with your button up baby pink cardigan and white jeans.

But your office seemed so far away with the stabbing pain in your feet, luckily the halls were empty since most of the students were in their rooms doing homework or relaxing before dinner.

Having enough of the pain, you crouched down to unbuckle your heels, your bag moving down your shoulder to your elbow.

“Need any help, princess?”

You looked up at the sound of the voice, even though you knew exactly who it was.

Logan stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes flicked down to your shoes before meeting your gaze again, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Need any help, princess?” His voice was low and casual, but that nickname—'princess’—it was just one of the many he’d taken to using when he spoke to you. Although you hadn’t heard this one before.

You shifted your bag back up on your shoulder and continued unbuckling the second heel. “I’ve got it, thanks,” you replied, not thinking too much of his presence. You’d known Logan long enough to realize he had a habit of showing up when you least expected him to.

He made a small grunt, as if to say ‘suit yourself,’ and watched as you continued to try and unbuckle the second one, but it looked like the strap was giving you a hard time.

Logan kneeled down in front of you without a word as you moved your hands away. You were smart enough to know that you weren’t exactly in the best position to unbuckle your heels, you usually did it when you were sitting down, not crouching in the middle of a hallway.

He easily unbuckled it and helped you slip out of the heels, your feet hitting the cool floor. You mumbled a thanks as his hand trailed up your calf with a feather light touch before standing up. Your heels were in one of his hands as he easily picked you up with one arm, carrying you bridal style.

You let out a small shriek of surprise, your arms instinctively going around Logan’s neck as he scooped you up with one arm, heels dangling from his other hand.

"Hey! I can walk!" you protested, more flustered than anything else. You were completely capable of walking, sore feet or not, but now you were cradled in Logan’s arms like a princess in some old fairy tale.

Logan's smirk widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Not fast enough, sweetheart," he teased, carrying you effortlessly down the hall. His voice was deep, a hint of amusement in his tone, and it made your cheeks heat up slightly, though you quickly tried to brush it off.

You rolled your eyes, not really sure how to argue back. "I’m pretty sure this is unnecessary," you muttered, though your voice didn’t sound all that convincing even to you.

"Necessary or not, you're gonna let me carry you," he shot back, glancing down at you with a playful gleam in his eye. "Besides, I don’t mind."

You huffed in mock defiance, but you didn’t exactly push him to put you down either. In fact, being carried by Logan felt…nice. Comfortable, even. Not that you’d ever admit that out loud. And it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

As the two of you continued down the hallway, you couldn’t help but notice the way his grip was firm but gentle, his arms strong and steady. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen how built he was, but somehow, it always seemed to surprise you.

"You know, this could’ve been avoided if I’d just worn normal shoes," you grumbled, trying to distract yourself from the way your heart was beating a little too fast.

Logan chuckled softly, that gravelly sound that always seemed to resonate in your chest. "Doll, I’ve seen you rock combat boots and still look like you’re ready for a photoshoot. But those heels…" He raised an eyebrow at the pink shoes still in his hand. "Yeah, maybe not your best choice."

You frowned slightly, glancing at the heels. "They looked good online…"

He grinned, amused. "You got catfished by shoes?"

"I didn’t get catfished!" you retorted, though you couldn’t help but laugh. "They’re cute! Just not comfortable."

Logan made a noncommittal sound, clearly not convinced by your argument. But he didn’t press it further, instead shifting you slightly in his arms as he approached your office door.

"Want me to break down the door for you, too, princess? Or can you manage the key?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes, looking down at you like you were some helpless damsel.

"I’ve got it," you replied quickly, reaching into your bag for your keys. "And stop calling me princess." The nickname felt weird, it made your heart beat faster and you skin flush more than the other nicknames he called you.

But Logan just smirked, clearly unbothered. "Sure thing, sweetheart."

You couldn’t stop the little sigh that escaped you as you unlocked the door and pushed it open. Logan stepped inside, gently setting you down on your feet.

As soon as you were standing, you felt the cool air against your now bare feet, and it was an instant relief from the torture those heels had put you through. You moved to put your heels down by your desk, but Logan still had them in his hand.

"You know I can take those now," you said, holding out your hand expectantly.

Logan eyed the heels for a moment, then handed them over. "You really should burn 'em, doll," he said in that same teasing tone, watching you place them on the floor.

"I’m not burning them," you replied, shaking your head. "They’re not that bad. I just…need to break them in."

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe now, watching you with that amused smirk still playing on his lips. "Or you could just stick to boots."

"Maybe I like being fashionable sometimes," you shot back, raising an eyebrow at him as you plopped down into your office chair. Your fingers brushed your hair back from your face, and you let out a small, satisfied sigh now that you were sitting down.

"Fashionable, sure," Logan said, his voice a low rumble. "But at what cost?"

You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. It was hard to stay annoyed when Logan was like this—playful, relaxed, his rough edges softened just enough to make you feel like he actually cared.

"Anyway, shouldn’t you be out doing something more...Logan-like?" you asked, leaning back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest.

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know, brooding? Scowling at someone?"

His lips twitched, clearly suppressing a smirk. "Maybe I’m just waiting for you to ask me to carry you again."

You rolled your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping into your cheeks. "Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath."

He chuckled, that deep, gravelly sound filling the small office. He didn’t say anything after that, just leaned against the door, arms crossed as he watched you settle in. The silence was comfortable, but it made you hyperaware of him—of the way his presence seemed to take up more space than it should.

You busied yourself with pulling out some notes from your bag, pretending you weren’t fully aware of how Logan’s eyes followed your every movement. It was strange, but also kind of…nice? Logan wasn’t like other guys. He wasn’t intimidated by your intelligence or the fact that you could talk circles around most people in the room. In fact, he seemed to like it, even if he teased you about it sometimes.

"Alright, well, thanks for the…uh, assistance," you said, breaking the silence and giving him a small, awkward smile. "I think I’m good now."

Logan didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Anytime, sweetheart."

And with that, he turned and walked out of your office, leaving you with your thoughts—and the faintest trace of a smirk on your face.

---

Every so often, you would have a baking day to use up some of the fruits efficiently. Some of the students would join you in the large kitchen, doing their best to help you by carefully following your instructions.

Some of them, particularly the older ones, would cut up some of the fruit, like strawberries, apples, and peaches. The others would measure the ingredients and put them in a mixing bowl before combining it all together to make a dough.

This time, you were striving to make a few blueberry pies, a large dish of peach cobbler, apple strudels, and some strawberry puff pastries.

Baking was something you enjoyed, but never really did in college. You usually were busier with labs and theses rather than cooking or baking. You practically lived off take out and dining hall food. But since you’ve been here for the past year, you’ve already held 4 sessions, including this one.

“Careful with those strawberries,” you said to a student named Ben, who was chopping up the fruit with a little too much enthusiasm. “We need them in slices, not chunks.”

“Sorry, Y/N,” he mumbled, quickly adjusting his technique.

You smiled softly and moved to check on the other group, who were working on the dough for the pies. A girl named Emily was measuring out the flour, carefully following the recipe you’d written down.

"How’s it going over here?" you asked, watching as she sifted the flour into a bowl.

“Good, I think,” Emily said, glancing up at you nervously. “Is this enough?”

You nodded. "Looks perfect. Just remember to mix it slowly so the flour doesn’t go everywhere."

Emily gave you a grateful smile before continuing her work. You loved these baking sessions. It was a great way to bond with the students and also let them explore a more creative side outside of their classes. Plus, it gave you a break from the constant intellectual challenges of your usual work.

Logan wandered into the kitchen a little while later, casually leaning against the doorframe as he watched the controlled chaos. Ororo and Jean were already in the kitchen, watching from the sidelines nursing a glass of a bubbly pink drink.

He couldn’t help but think about how pretty you looked, you were wearing a pastel purple sundress with a light green apron with vines and flowers embroidered on it.

The sight made him smirk—something about you baking in a kitchen full of teenagers, in your floral apron, amused him. It was such a stark contrast to your usual intellectual, no-nonsense attitude.

“Whatcha got cookin’, sweetheart?” Logan’s gruff voice broke the bustling sounds of mixing and chopping.

You didn’t glance up, too focused on guiding Emily through making the pie dough. "Just baking some pies and pastries. Using up the leftover fruit. Do you want some?" you asked casually, not thinking too much about the fact that Logan was watching you.

Logan shrugged, stepping further into the kitchen. “Depends. Is it any good?”

You finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You doubt my baking skills?”

He chuckled lowly, leaning against the counter now, close enough to see what you were working on. “Wouldn’t call it doubt, doll. Just curious.”

You gave him a small smirk, hands moving skillfully as you finished helping Emily measure the remaining ingredients. "You’ll have to wait until they’re done to find out."

One of the students, Ben, interrupted, grinning as he wiped flour off his hands. "Y/N’s baking is the best! She made these strawberry scones last time—they were gone in like ten minutes."

Logan raised an eyebrow, giving you a teasing glance. "Impressive, princess. Maybe I will stick around."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but didn’t comment. Instead, you turned back to Emily, helping her roll out the dough. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice Logan's teasing, it was just that you didn’t think much of it. Guys didn’t usually flirt with you. At least not seriously. Most found your intelligence intimidating, or they simply saw you as ‘one of the guys.’ Logan’s pet names, in your mind, were just part of his rough-and-tumble personality, nothing more.

But Logan, on the other hand, found your obliviousness endearing. The fact that you didn’t seem to realize he was flirting with you only made him try harder, though he kept it casual enough not to push you away. He liked the challenge.

“You need any help?” Logan offered, gesturing toward the fruit Ben was chopping haphazardly.

“You’re not gonna burn the kitchen down?” you teased, wiping your hands on your apron before reaching for a bowl.

“I think I can handle it,” Logan said, a grin tugging at his lips.

You handed him a knife, showing him how to properly slice the strawberries. “Here, like this. We need them thin for the pastries.”

You held out the knife for him, and instead of coming up beside you like you assumed he would, he stood behind you, his chest against your back, practically caging you in between him and the counter.

He could hear your heart beat faster as he cut a few slices of the strawberry, asking, "That good enough for you, sweetheart?"

His voice was low, and you could feel his breath near your ear, but you were too focused on the task at hand to fully process the closeness. You glanced at the thinly sliced strawberries, nodding absentmindedly.

"Yeah, that’s perfect," you mumbled, moving slightly away to give yourself more room to breathe, though you didn’t realize why. "Just need a few more for the pastries."

Logan continued slicing, his movements precise, though his presence remained solid and grounding behind you. You were used to people standing close when you worked in the lab or in class—tight spaces, shared equipment, it came with the territory. But this was different. Logan’s proximity felt… intense in a way you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

"So, how long you been doin' this?" Logan asked casually, his voice breaking through your thoughts as he finished up with the strawberries.

You blinked, taking a second to register the question. "Baking? Oh, I don’t know… when I was a kid? I just started because it’s a nice break from… everything I guess.”

Jean and Ororo continued to drink their glass of champagne when Scott walked in, placing an arm around Jean’s waist as they watched the scene. “Think she’ll finally realize,” he asked.

Ororo gave a small grin and shrugged, “who knows? But Logan’s certainly getting bolder.”

Jean shook her head, “I told him to talk to her and say exactly what he was feeling, but turns out he still hasn’t taken my advice.”

Ororo chuckled as she took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking back to the kitchen scene unfolding in front of them. "Well, you know Logan. Subtlety isn’t exactly his strong suit."

Scott smirked as he stood next to Jean, his arm still comfortably draped around her waist. "Yeah, but subtlety doesn’t seem to be the problem here," he said, eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched Logan hover around you. "He’s not exactly hiding it."

Ororo tilted her head, amused by how oblivious you remained despite Logan’s efforts. It wasn’t that you were unobservant; you were incredibly sharp—when it came to science, mechanics, and even battle tactics. But personal matters? Especially the ones involving yourself? Not so much.

"Poor girl," Ororo mused, shaking her head. "She’s a genius, but this…" She waved a hand in Logan’s direction. "This seems to be one thing she’s totally clueless about."

Jean smiled sympathetically. "She’s not used to people flirting with her. I mean, guys either get intimidated by her brain, or they just see her as a fellow intellectual, not… you know, a woman."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Logan clearly sees her as a woman. He’s made that much obvious. But I wonder how long it’ll take for her to figure it out."

Jean laughed softly. "At this rate? It might take a while."

The three of them watched with growing curiosity as Logan stood there, his broad shoulders and rough demeanor somehow fitting perfectly in the domestic scene of baking pastries with students. You, on the other hand, were entirely focused on getting the strawberry puff pastries just right, completely unaware of how closely Logan was watching you—or how he lingered longer than necessary when he handed you the knife, or how his teasing nicknames held a deeper meaning.

"She’s too smart for her own good," Scott added, shaking his head with a chuckle. "But when it comes to this, she's got blind spots."

Jean nodded in agreement. "Y/N is convinced she knows everything—and to be fair, she does know a lot—but she’s missing the whole picture here."

---

After Logan’s stunt on baking day, he wondered just how much further he could go. Sure, he could take Jean’s advice and outright tell you, but he also liked seeing you riled up and confused by his words and actions.

Like a few days ago, all he did was pull out your chair at dinner with the rest of the group and you just stood there, confused by the gesture. It took a few moments for you to understand and finally sit down before he pushed the chair closer to the table for you.

Or now, they were having a briefing, or meeting, about God knows what, most of everybody seated. You and Ororo were the last people to come in, aside from Charles. Ororo went to sit down at an open seat and as you looked around you came to the conclusion that there weren’t any other chairs available.

You were content with the fact that you were going to stand for the short meeting, as you found a spot to stand at the opposite end of the large round table, close to Logan.

“C’mere doll.” Logan said, lazily gesturing for you to come closer.

You hesitantly did, stopping next to his chair, your knee brushing his thigh. “What?”

He patted his thigh, “I don’t bite.”

Your eyes widened, a cute, innocent expression that he enjoyed seeing on your face, as you looked around the room. “I, uh- ”

Logan’s smirk widened, clearly finding your hesitation endearing. He patted his lap again, his eyes glinting with a teasing light. “C’mon, doll. Don’t be shy. There’s a perfectly good seat right here.”

You hesitated, your brain racing to process the situation. It wasn’t exactly appropriate for a professional setting, but you were running out of options. The only other seats were either taken or a bit too far from the discussion table. With a small sigh, you decided to give in. You didn’t want to stand for the entire meeting, and it was just one of those moments where you had to roll with it.

“Alright,” you said. You shot a glance around the room, but most people were already absorbed in their conversations or taking notes. You gingerly sat down on the edge of his lap, trying to maintain a sense of propriety despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Logan’s arm naturally wrapped around your waist to stabilize you, but he didn’t say anything as you settled. You could feel his warmth radiating through his leather jacket, and it was strangely comforting despite the unusual circumstances. He leaned in slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispered, “You alright there, sweetheart?”

You nodded, trying to focus on the meeting but acutely aware of how close he was. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, though you could feel your cheeks warming slightly. “Just trying to get comfortable.”

Logan chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest and making you shift just a bit closer. His hand rested lightly on your hip, not too firm but enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. You tried to ignore it and concentrate on the meeting, but his proximity made that task rather difficult.

The meeting continued, with Charles and the others discussing various topics related to ongoing projects and missions. Logan’s hand on your hip was a constant reminder of his presence, but he remained quiet, only chiming in occasionally with his usual gruff comments or suggestions.

---

At breakfast one day, you were sitting with Hank talking about the project you two were working on that was finally getting somewhere. You had finally been able to stabilize the energy output and now you two were talking about what to do next.

Logan sipped his coffee, looking at your from afar. As always, you were dressed cute today. You were wearing a light blue sweater with a pair of your skinny jeans and white flats, paired with matching drop earrings.

Ororo and Jean came up beside him, the former tsking. Ororo gave Logan a knowing look, crossing her arms. "You still at it, huh?" she teased, nodding in your direction.

Logan grunted but didn't respond immediately, sipping his coffee as he watched you and Hank animatedly discuss your project. You were explaining something with such enthusiasm, using your hands to gesture wildly, that it made him smirk. The light blue sweater you wore today only added to the adorable vibe you unknowingly radiated.

Jean nudged him lightly. "Nine months, Logan. Nine months of flirting, and she’s still completely oblivious." She shook her head, amused.

"She’s a genius, remember?" Ororo said, raising an eyebrow. "She’s supposed to know everything."

Logan snorted, finally setting his coffee down. "Well, she clearly doesn’t know this. And I’m in no rush to tell her." He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyes didn’t leave you, even as the conversation between Hank and you grew more intense.

Jean chuckled. "It's kinda cute, though. Watching her get all flustered whenever you call her those names, like she’s completely missing the point."

"I know," Logan muttered with a grin. "She gets that little furrow in her brow, like she’s trying to figure it out, but then brushes it off. She’s too wrapped up in all her fancy projects and theories."

Ororo shook her head in disbelief. "You’ve got the patience of a saint. Most people would’ve given up by now."

Logan shrugged, glancing at Ororo. "Ain’t in any hurry. She’s worth the wait."

Jean smiled softly at that, then sighed. "Well, good luck. Maybe one day she’ll actually catch on."

As if on cue, you let out a triumphant laugh from across the room, and Logan’s attention immediately shifted back to you. You had a bright smile on your face, clearly excited about whatever breakthrough you and Hank had just made.

"You’re like a moth to a flame," Ororo muttered under her breath with a smirk, walking off with Jean to sit down.

Logan ignored her, his eyes still locked on you as you gathered up some papers and started to walk toward the exit. As you passed him, he casually stuck his leg out just enough that you had to stop short to avoid tripping.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, looking down at his leg and then up at him with confusion.

He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of his coffee. "Mornin', sweetheart."

You blinked at him, clearly thrown off for a moment. "Uh, morning." You shifted the stack of papers in your arms. "Why’d you—"

"Just wanted to say good job," he interrupted, nodding toward the papers in your hand. "Whatever you and Hank were talkin’ about over there seemed pretty important."

Your face lit up at the mention of your project, and you immediately launched into an explanation, completely forgetting about Logan's odd behavior. "Oh, yeah! We finally stabilized the energy output! It’s been driving us crazy for weeks, but we think we’ve figured out how to—"

Logan barely paid attention to the technical jargon that followed, more focused on the way your eyes sparkled as you talked, your excitement contagious. He gave a few gruff nods, pretending to follow along, but it was the way you lit up when you were passionate about something that kept him hooked.

"You’re incredible, you know that?" he said once you finished, his voice low and serious.

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, what?"

"I said you’re incredible." He repeated, his gaze locking onto yours. "Smart, talented, and cute as a button. Gotta give credit where it’s due."

Your cheeks flushed pink, and you quickly looked down at the papers in your arms. "Oh, um, thanks, Logan," you mumbled, completely missing the deeper implication of his words, as usual. "I... I should probably get these to the lab. We need to review them before the next phase."

"Of course," Logan said, his smirk widening as he watched you stumble over your words. "But don’t forget to take a break, doll. All work and no play ain’t good for anyone."

"Right," you said, nodding as you hurried off, your mind already shifting back to your project, completely oblivious to the playful grin on Logan's face.

---

“You’ve never even been clubbing!?” Ororo exclaimed, holding up a finger to stop you from saying anything. “And you know I’m not talking about something like a ‘gardening club’.”

“And you have?” You asked, sitting on your bed as Jean looked through your closet.

Ororo laughed, shaking her head at your naivety. “Oh, Y/N, honey, I’ve been out dancing plenty of times. Clubbing is one of those things you just have to experience.”

Jean, still rummaging through your closet, chimed in, "She’s right, Y/N. It's fun to get out of the lab once in a while and let loose. You spend so much time buried in your work. You deserve a break."

You sighed, sinking back onto the bed. "I don’t know… It just seems like a waste of time. We could watch a movie, drink some wine, and call it a night."

Ororo leaned against your dresser, crossing her arms. "You can’t hide behind your projects forever, Flora. You need to socialize, let your hair down." She smirked, looking at you pointedly. "You never know, maybe someone will finally catch your eye."

You furrowed your brow, unconvinced. "Like who?"

Jean shared a knowing look with Ororo before turning to face you, holding up a dress you’d forgotten you owned. “Who knows? There could be someone at the club. Or maybe someone you’ve been completely blind to.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow and added, "Someone who’s been giving you attention for months, perhaps."

Your eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Jean grinned, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she held up the dress in front of you. "Nothing, just an observation. Now, come on, put this on. Let’s see how it looks."

You sighed, getting off the bed and taking the dress from Jean’s hands. "I still don’t get what the big deal is. I’m perfectly fine without this whole clubbing thing."

Ororo smirked, stepping toward the door. “Trust us. You’ll thank us later.”

---

A few hours later, you found yourself standing outside one of the busiest clubs in the city, feeling slightly out of place in the dress Jean had picked out for you. The music thumped from inside the building, the bass reverberating through the sidewalk as people lined up to get in. You stood between Jean and Ororo, who both looked far more comfortable in their outfits than you felt in yours.

"I can’t believe you guys convinced me to come," you muttered under your breath, shifting on your feet as you glanced at the line of people ahead.

Jean grinned, looping her arm through yours. "You’re going to have fun. Trust me. It’s a nice change of pace."

Ororo nodded in agreement. "Plus, you deserve a night out. You’ve been working hard."

As you were about to respond, the doors of the club swung open, and you were hit with a blast of cool air mixed with the sound of thumping music. The bouncer waved the three of you in without a second glance, and before you knew it, you were inside, the lights flashing and the crowd buzzing with energy.

You followed Jean and Ororo through the throngs of people, weaving through the packed dance floor until you reached the bar. The atmosphere was unlike anything you were used to—loud, chaotic, and a little overwhelming. You weren’t sure how you felt about it yet.

Ororo leaned against the bar, ordering drinks while Jean turned to you with a grin. "What do you think so far?"

You shrugged, glancing around. "It’s... different."

"Just give it a chance," Jean said, patting your arm. "Once you get a drink in you and loosen up a bit, you’ll feel better."

The bartender handed Ororo three drinks, and she passed one to you with a wink. "To new experiences, Flora."

You hesitated for a moment before raising your glass. "To new experiences, I guess."

The three of you clinked glasses, and you took a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol start to settle in. Maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

An expensive Uber trip later and you three were back at the mansion at 4 in the morning. Luckily it was Friday, or Saturday now, so there was no need to worry about being hungover for classes.

You don’t think you’ve ever drank that much alcohol, but to be fair, you must have a really low tolerance since you never partied in college, other than the occasional glass of wine.

So, drinking around 5 or 6 fruity cocktails surely made you see things differently. Maybe just a tad bit too blurry and clumsy.

You fumbled with your keys at the mansion door, Jean giggling behind you. “Here, let me help,” she offered, her hands steadier than yours as she took the keys and unlocked the door with ease.

“I’m fine, Jean!” you protested with a laugh, swaying slightly as you stepped inside. You weren’t used to feeling so... unbalanced. Everything seemed lighter, funnier, and a little more ridiculous after the alcohol. You were starting to understand why people did this more often.

Ororo walked in behind you, shaking her head but smiling. “Maybe next time we won’t let you have quite so many drinks,” she teased, gently guiding you toward the living room. “You’re gonna feel this tomorrow.”

“I’m a genius,” you declared, holding your head high in mock dignity, “I’ll be fine.”

Jean snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh yeah? Even geniuses can’t outsmart a hangover.”

You waved her off, settling into a chair, only to realize it was far too squishy, causing you to slide right down onto the floor. You stared at it for a second, then burst out laughing. “Who put a trap here?”

Ororo and Jean were in hysterics now, and even though your head was spinning, you couldn’t help but join in.

“You know,” Ororo started between giggles, “for someone who knows everything, you sure don’t know how to handle a drink.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, or at least tried to. “It’s... an anomaly. Unpredictable variables.”

“Right,” Jean said, leaning back with a grin, “just like Logan’s flirting.”

You blinked, the name snapping you out of your drunken haze for a second. “Logan’s what?”

Ororo and Jean exchanged glances before looking back at you, their smiles widening.

“His flirting,” Jean repeated slowly, as if explaining a simple concept.

You squinted, feeling like your brain was moving through molasses. “Flirting? Logan? With me?”

Ororo rolled her eyes playfully. “Yes, Y/N. For months. You seriously haven’t noticed?”

You stared at them both, utterly lost. “Flirting? Logan? Are you guys drunk too?”

Jean sighed dramatically, standing up. “I think you’re too far gone to process this tonight.”

You shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around what they were saying. Logan? Flirting? With you? It didn’t make any sense. Logan was... well, Logan.

Ororo pulled you up from the floor, patting your arm. “Let’s get you to bed. You can overthink this tomorrow.”

---

The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach that felt like it was doing somersaults. Groaning, you dragged yourself out of bed, making a mental note to never drink that much again.

As you made your way to the kitchen, hoping to find coffee and maybe something greasy to settle your stomach, you tried to remember the details from last night. Jean and Ororo had said something about Logan... flirting with you?

You shook your head. That couldn’t be right. Logan wasn’t the type to flirt. He was gruff, tough, and mostly kept to himself. Sure, he called you pet names, but that didn’t mean anything. Right?

Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you sat at the kitchen island, still groggy. You were about to take a sip when you heard the familiar sound of boots approaching.

“Mornin’, doll,” Logan greeted as he walked in, his voice a low rumble.

You looked up at him, your brain still foggy, and for some reason, the word ‘flirting’ popped into your mind again. You stared at him for a moment longer than necessary, your head tilting slightly.

“Uh... morning,” you replied, your voice a little more unsure than usual. You couldn’t stop replaying what Jean and Ororo had said last night. Was this flirting? You eyed Logan, trying to decipher his expression.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You look like hell.”

“Gee, thanks,” you muttered, taking a sip of your coffee. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

Logan chuckled, that deep, rough sound that always sent a weird shiver down your spine. “Guess you didn’t take my advice about not overdoing it, huh?”

You blinked. “What advice?”

“Last night,” he said, smirking, “told ya not to have too many drinks, sweetheart.”

Your brow furrowed. “Wait, you were there?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, clearly amused. ���Passed by when you three were heading out. You looked excited about... whatever the hell it is you get excited about.”

You frowned, trying to remember him saying that. It was all so hazy. Then you shook your head, deciding to just drop it. “Well, I’ll survive.”

Logan gave you a lazy grin. “Tough as nails, aren’t ya?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off. “I guess so.”

There was a moment of silence before Logan pushed off the counter and moved closer. He reached out and gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek for just a second too long. “Good thing. Wouldn’t want ya to break, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat. This was... different. You felt your face heat up, and you quickly turned your attention back to your coffee. “Uh... right.”

Logan’s smirk didn’t fade as he stepped back. “See ya around, darlin’.”

You watched him leave the kitchen, your heart pounding in your chest for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. What was that? Was that what Jean and Ororo had been talking about? Or was it just him being old-fashioned, after all he was over 200 years old, and you were a mere 25. He was the Wolverine, and you were just a young teacher that happened to be an X-Men.

---

It had been a week since you had gone out clubbing with Jean and Ororo and you were too far gone in your own mind. You started observing things more carefully, the way Logan would rest his hand on your lower back when he was walking you to your next class, how he occasionally brought you snacks when you were in the lab, telling Hank that they were only for you, and finally, how he really only called you nicknames.

Ever since that realization, you tried to keep it hidden, to process it on your own. After all, guys didn’t like you. You weren’t exactly the kind of girl they wanted.

Logan noticed how you got more nervous around him, your heart beating faster, how you seemed to stumble over your words more often than not around him. At one point, he asked Jean about it, to which she revealed her and Ororo did what he couldn’t.

He ended up outside of your office, hearing you talk to one of the senior students about which colleges were the best for his major. You assured him that just because it was September, doesn’t mean he’s too late to apply.

Logan knocked on the door as you said that the door was unlocked. He hadn’t seen your outfit today, a white pencil skirt paired with a skintight, long sleeve peach colored shirt. Your hip was leaning against the front of the desk next to where the student was sitting.

Kean looked between the two of you, before quickly gathering his things and the brochures you gave him for various colleges.

"Remember to look into some engineering programs! I’d think they’d be great for you!" You called out after Kean, watching as the student hurried out of your office. The door clicked shut behind him, and you sighed, thinking of the next round of paperwork waiting on your desk. You were about to walk around your desk to sit down when you noticed Logan still standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes focused on you in that intense way he often did.

"Sweetheart, got a minute?" Logan's voice was rough, familiar, and held that signature casualness that made it feel like he wasn't really asking.

You blinked, startled for a second before nodding. "Uh, yeah. Sure, Logan. What's up?"

Logan stepped further into the room, his eyes scanning you briefly. "You looked pretty wrapped up in your work. Thought you could use a break."

Your mind raced, suddenly self-conscious. "Yeah, I’ve been helping some of the seniors with their college stuff," you explained, motioning to the brochures still scattered across your desk. "It's that time of year where they start panicking about applications."

Logan smirked, his arms crossing over his chest. "You always keep yourself busy, don’t ya, doll?"

You rolled your lower lip while humming as your answer. You crossed your arms, watching as Logan came closer to you, standing almost toe to toe with your pointy short peach colored heels.

“You finally figured it out then, didn’t ya?” He asked.

“I- well, uh…” you stammered, suddenly feeling heat rush to your face. Why was Logan looking at you like that? And what did he mean by ‘you finally figured it out’? Were Ororo and Jean right?

Logan’s smirk deepened, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched you fumble over your words. "You’re a genius, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now."

Your heart raced, and you felt your palms start to sweat. Why was he so close? You tried to focus on the conversation, on anything other than how your body was reacting to his presence. "N-noticed what?" you managed to get out, your voice sounding way less composed than you intended.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this far more than you were. "How I’ve been flirtin’ with ya for months now," he said casually, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Your brain short-circuited. Flirting? Logan? Flirting? With you? That didn’t make any sense. Logan flirted with women who were… well, not you. He was the rough-around-the-edges kind of guy who went for women who were confident, flirtatious, and knew how to handle someone like him. You were the awkward  genius who spent more time in the lab than anywhere else. Guys didn’t flirt with you.

"You’ve been—wait, what?" you asked, blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "You’ve been flirting with me?"

Logan chuckled, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "Yeah, doll. Pretty sure everyone at the mansion’s noticed by now." His smirk returned as he added, "Except you, apparently."

Your face burned, and you tried to think back. Had he been flirting? The nicknames, the snacks, the casual touches… it all seemed so… normal for Logan. You thought he was just being friendly, maybe a bit protective like he was with some of the younger students.

"I—" You started to say something but stopped, unsure of what exactly to say. You felt like the ground had shifted beneath you. "Why didn’t anyone tell me?"

Logan shrugged. "Didn’t think it was their place. Figured you’d catch on eventually." His gaze softened, and he added, "Didn’t expect you to be this oblivious, though. Kinda cute."

You were sure your face couldn’t get any redder. "I’m not… I’m not oblivious," you mumbled, crossing your arms defensively. "I just didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me."

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. "And why the hell not?"

"Because I’m… me!" You motioned to yourself, like that explained everything. "Guys don’t flirt with me, Logan. They’re usually intimidated or just… I don’t know. I’m not the kind of girl guys like."

You didn’t have any friends until you came here, which was sad because you were 24 when you finally had some.

Sure, you tried to make some during college, joined the gardening club and the astronomy club, but whenever you talked people would never really listen to you.

You even tried going on a few dates with some guys from online dating apps. They were your age, but they were in their third year of college while you were already working on two master’s degrees. You even had similarities with a few of them.

One guy liked Star Wars, and you went into a short rant about how the physics of it was wrong and even talked about a bunch of the lore behind it. Same with the other 2 dates you went on, they were all one and done.

Guys didn’t like you. That’s just the way it was.

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, doll. You think guys don’t notice you?”

You crossed your arms, feeling defensive again. “I don’t think, I know. Trust me, I’ve tried.” You paused, hesitating before you added, “I’m not exactly… good at this kind of thing. Social stuff, I mean. I’m better at figuring out equations than people.”

Logan stepped closer, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. “You’re wrong, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got this idea in your head that no one’s gonna want you because you’re too smart or too different, but that ain’t true. Not even close.”

You blinked up at him, unsure of how to respond. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach flutter in a way that felt both exciting and terrifying. “I just… I don’t see why you’d be interested in me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re Logan. You could have anyone.”

Logan chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, but I don’t want just anyone.” His eyes locked onto yours, his tone becoming serious. “I want you.”

Your heart nearly stopped in your chest. You had no idea what to say. Logan had been flirting with you—Logan, the gruff, no-nonsense guy you’d come to admire over the past year—and you’d been completely clueless. How could someone like him, someone who seemed so out of your league, be interested in you?

“I… I don’t understand,” you mumbled, still struggling to process everything. “Why me?”

Logan sighed, as if he had been waiting for this question for months. “Because you’re brilliant, Y/N. You’ve got this fire in you, this passion for everything you do. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, and you don’t let anyone push you around. And you’re so damn kind, even when you don’t have to be.” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you, but… well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to talk to about feelings.”

You blinked. “I’m not?”

Logan smirked. “No, sweetheart, you’re not. You overthink everything. Makes it kinda hard to tell you I like you without you analyzing it to death.”

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and disbelief. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, not really knowing what else to say. “I just didn’t think you… I didn’t think anyone would… you know.”

Logan stepped even closer, so close that you had to sit on the edge of your desk. “Well, I do,” he said, his voice low. “And I’ve been waitin’ for you to figure it out.”

You stared up at him, your mind still reeling. All this time, Logan had been flirting with you, had liked you, and you hadn’t noticed. And now, here he was, standing so close you could feel his breath on your skin, telling you exactly how he felt. It was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Logan, I…" you started, but the words got caught in your throat. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to something like this. Part of you wanted to brush it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but the way he was looking at you, the way he had always looked at you, made it clear that this wasn’t a joke or a misunderstanding.

He really liked you.

Logan smirked at your silence, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Speechless, huh? That’s a first," he teased, his voice low and rough in that way that made your stomach flip.

You shook your head, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "It’s just… I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me. You’re Logan, and I’m…" You gestured to yourself awkwardly. "Me."

Logan frowned slightly, his brows pulling together. "What the hell’s that supposed to mean?"

You shrugged in response, turning your head downward to look down at your lap. It didn’t last long, because Logan put his thumb on your chin, turning your head upright to look at him.

He noticed your expression change, you were someone who was easy to read, never really kept her emotions hidden well, or at least not to him. You went from big doe eyes and sad, pouty lips to flustered. Your eyes were curious and almost nervous and your pink lips, courtesy of the colored lip balm you always wore, were slightly parted.

Logan held your gaze, his thumb gently resting on your chin, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken under his touch. He was so close now, close enough that the musky scent of him was filling your senses, making it even harder to think clearly.

"You really think I’d waste my time on someone I didn’t want?" Logan’s voice was low, gruff, but there was a softness to it that you hadn’t heard before.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. The words were jumbled in your mind, and all you could focus on was the way his rough fingers were still holding your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. The confidence he exuded was overwhelming. How could he be so sure, so calm, while you felt like your brain was on fire?

"Logan, I…" you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his hand, the warmth of his body so close—it was too much.

He let out a soft chuckle, clearly amused by how flustered you were. "Doll, you’re overthinking again."

Your lips pressed together into a thin line as you tried to get a handle on your spiraling thoughts. "I’m just… surprised. I didn’t think…" You hesitated, the words feeling clumsy in your mouth. His thumb moved slightly up, still holding onto your chin but now brushing against your lower lip, making it more difficult to concentrate or come up with a single coherent thought.

No one had ever treated you like this, so kindly and… normally. You thought back to the only 3 dates you had ever been on during college, how none of them ever really tried to get to know you, or peel back the layers behind your smarts.

Because you weren’t just smart, you loved gardening, and baking, hell, you even liked to dress cute. And out of all the guys, Logan never treated you like someone different. It was nice to be around someone like that, who embraced who you were rather than try and get you to bury it. Maybe it was his age? You remember reading an article from a psych organization about how younger women like older men because of emotional maturity-

Rough hands cupped your face, bringing you out of your thoughts. “Hey, stop thinkin’. What the hell could you be thinkin’ about right now?”

You gave a shy smile and shook your head gently, his hands still on your face. “Nothin’,” you mumbled, your voice softer than you intended. You tried to play it off like everything was fine, but Logan wasn’t buying it.

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, his thumb brushing your cheek now. "You’re a terrible liar, sweetheart." His voice was low, that gravelly tone sending shivers down your spine.

You swallowed, your mind still racing as you searched for the right words. "I just… I don’t get why you’d want me," you admitted, your eyes flicking away from his. "You’re this… badass, Logan. You’ve been through so much. You could have anyone."

His hands stayed where they were, his touch gentle but firm as he guided your gaze back to his. "I told you, doll. I don’t want anyone else. I want you."

You blinked up at him, still unsure of how to respond. It felt like your heart was beating out of your chest, and your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts. On one hand, Logan was the last person you ever thought would have feelings for you. On the other hand, here he was, being painfully honest, and you couldn’t deny the sincerity in his voice.

"I just…" you hesitated, biting your lip, "I don’t know how to do this, Logan. I’m not… I’ve never been good at… people. Relationships. I mean, I’m good at math, science, and solving problems but not—this."

Logan chuckled softly, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You don’t gotta be good at it, Y/N. You just gotta be you." His voice softened, the teasing tone dropping away as he said, "That’s all I’ve ever wanted."

Your breath caught in your throat. He made it sound so simple, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal to you. You hadn’t dated much—hardly at all, if you were being honest. Relationships felt like another complex equation you couldn’t quite solve.

"Logan, I…" you started, but he cut you off, his hands dropping from your face to settle on your hips, pulling you just a little closer.

"You overthinkin’ again?" Logan smirked, one eyebrow raised.

You couldn’t help but smile at that. "Maybe a little," you admitted, your voice quiet. It was hard to concentrate when he was so close, his hands resting on your hips like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"That’s what I thought," Logan muttered, leaning in just enough that his forehead almost touched yours. "You don’t gotta figure everything out right now, doll. Just… let it happen."

You stared at him, your mind whirling. "Let it happen?" you echoed, trying to wrap your head around what he was saying.

"Yeah," Logan said softly, his voice rough but soothing at the same time. "Stop tryin’ to solve it like it’s some kinda problem. Just be with me."

You blinked, your heart doing that weird fluttering thing again. Be with him? It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But you couldn’t help the flood of doubt that kept creeping into your mind. What if you screwed it up? What if you weren’t good enough at this? What if—

Logan’s hands tightened slightly on your hips, and he pulled you closer, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. "Y/N, you’re doin’ it again," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble in the space between you. "You’re thinkin’ too much."

You sighed, biting your lip again. "I can’t help it," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "That’s just how my brain works."

Logan chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "I know, darlin’. But you don’t gotta do that with me."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself staring at him, completely unsure of what to say next. No one had ever spoken to you like this before. No one had ever made you feel like it was okay to just… be. You were always the smartest person in the room, always expected to have the answers, to be the one in control. But with Logan, it felt different. He didn’t expect you to be anything but yourself.

"I…" You trailed off, your throat tightening. "I don’t know how to not overthink things."

Logan’s smirk softened, and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes warm as they met yours. "Then I’ll just have to distract you, won’t I?"

Before you could even process what he was saying, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It was like everything around you froze for a moment, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to catch up with what was happening.

Logan was kissing you.

Logan.

Was kissing.

You.

Your hands moved instinctively to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. It wasn’t what you expected—nothing in your life had ever felt like this. The warmth, the softness of his lips against yours, the way he held you like you were something precious… it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

If you would’ve told your past self from five years ago, hell, even two months ago, that your first kiss would be with the Wolverine, you would’ve thought it was some grand, cosmic joke. But there you were, hands fisting into Logan’s shirt, his lips gently pressing against yours like this was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t how you’d imagined your first kiss would go. Not that you’d spent a lot of time imagining it—honestly, you’d been too busy with equations, papers, and research to even consider the prospect of someone being interested in you. But if you had pictured it, this wouldn’t have been it. Not with a man like Logan.

His rough hands held you in place, strong but careful, as if he was hyper-aware of how delicate you felt in his grasp. You, who could bend nature to your will, whose intelligence far surpassed anyone’s expectations, felt completely and utterly vulnerable in his arms.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t by much. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and slightly uneven. Logan’s lips curved into a smirk, one you could practically feel against your skin.

“Well,” he drawled, voice low and teasing, “that didn’t seem too bad, did it?”

You blinked up at him, still trying to recover from the shock. “I… I don’t—what just happened?”

Logan chuckled softly, his thumbs brushing small circles into your hips, keeping you grounded when your thoughts were spinning out of control. “I just kissed ya, sweetheart. And unless I’m readin’ the situation wrong, you didn’t mind too much.”

Your mind raced, heart hammering in your chest. “No, I—” You paused, biting your lip as you tried to form a coherent thought. “I didn’t mind. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Logan’s voice softened, his expression growing more serious as he studied your face.

“I wasn’t expecting it.” You swallowed, looking away from him for a moment before forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “I didn’t think someone like you… I mean, I didn’t think you would- I didn’t think anyone would- ”

Logan raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to finish, but when you didn’t, he took a step closer. His hand was still resting on your hip, keeping you anchored to him, and the heat of his body was impossible to ignore. “Didn’t think what, sweetheart?”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his question press down on you. It was like all the words in your head had turned to static, and you couldn’t figure out how to string a coherent sentence together. "I just… I don’t know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, but his eyes stayed serious. "You don’t know, or you don’t wanna say?"

You bit your lip, your mind still reeling from the kiss. The memory of it—soft, unexpected, but not unwelcome—was playing on a loop in your head. You hadn’t been kissed much, if at all, and the idea that Logan was the one to give you your first real kiss was still something you were trying to process.

But you couldn’t lie, it was nice. You were 25, just had your first kiss, and suddenly you felt like a teenager in a Disney movie.

A grin slipped past your lips. "I just wasn’t expecting you to kiss me, old man," you finally replied, your voice teasing but soft.

Logan’s eyebrows raised, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Old man, huh?" he murmured, his voice dipping into that gravelly tone that always made you feel a bit flustered. "Pretty sure that kiss just proved I’ve still got it."

You laughed softly, your hands still fisted in his shirt, though he didn’t seem to mind at all. Logan’s smirk widened at the sound of your laughter, and you could feel the tension in the air start to ease, just a little.

"Yeah, maybe you do," you replied, your voice soft but teasing as you looked up at him, your heart still beating a little too fast from the kiss. "Guess you're not as rusty as I thought."

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk never faltering. "Rusty?" he repeated, his voice low and playful, with that gravelly edge that made your stomach flip every time. "You seriously thought I was rusty, sweetheart?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite how close he was and how easily he seemed to get under your skin. "I don’t know. I mean, you’re a couple of hundred years old. Thought you might’ve lost your touch."

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as he leaned in just a little closer. "Oh, darlin'," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I ain't lost a damn thing."

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Logan’s confidence was overwhelming, but it wasn’t just that—there was a tenderness in the way he looked at you, a softness in his touch that made your chest feel tight.

"Okay, okay," you finally muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to deflect some of the attention. "Point taken."

Logan grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered you were. "Good," he said simply, his thumbs brushing lightly over your hips where his hands still rested. "’Cause I don’t wanna hear any more about me bein’ rusty or old. Got it?"

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried not to smile too much. "Got it."

chapter 3 of Sweet Dreams will be up tomorrow!

[buryustogether]

songbird

the ghoul x f!reader

summary: you used to be a singer in your vault - that skill comes in handy when you least expect it, and least want to use it. but who are you to say no when cooper tells you to sing for him?

wc: 5.7k

warnings: swearing, talk of murder, blood, alcohol, gun violence, sexual tension, smut, fingering, p in v sex, biting, possessive sex, possessive cooper

You had to admit - if you and your companion didn't find shelter soon, one of you was going to drop and the other wouldn't hesitate to feast on what was left.

The deserts of the Wasteland were harsh - you had known that the moment you stepped out of your vault those months ago and you had been faced with nothing but a searing sun, sand that got stuck places it shouldn't have, and creatures and fellow people alike who would risk it all simply for a quick grab at the pack on your back. But it seemed like this past week, God or Satan or whoever the fuck was controlling this shitshow of a world was in a bad mood. The heat was unbearable, even at night when the chilly winds should have weaseled their way beneath your vault suit and cooled your burning skin. Creatures mutated by the long-settled radiation were feeling the anger of the wasteland, as well, charging without warning or provocation. To top off a less than perfect week, your water supply had run out yesterday, and unless the skies opened up and released a storm of rad-infested hail upon your head, you weren't sure you would find any more before you keeled over and kicked it.

Struggling to plant your feet stable in the mounds of sand beneath you as you made your way between the shells of buildings that had once stood tall and proud, you glanced over your shoulder at your companion. Cooper was better adapted for this kind of environment than you were, what with his hardened skin and the wide brim of his hat shielding his face, but even he looked worse for wear. When he picked up his head, seeming to feel your eyes on him, you quickly averted your gaze and set your attention back on moving one foot in front of the other.

"Fuck're you lookin' at?" he said, his voice raspy as he called out through the dry air.

"Nothing," you snipped back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of facing him again. "Just wondering if I'm going to have to carry you the rest of the way, asshole."

The heat was making you both snappy - you hated it.

Your first meeting with Cooper hadn't gone smoothly. Hell, your second or third hadn't, either. You weren't exactly sure when you had fallen into a more comfortable presence around one another, but it sure as shit hadn't happened overnight. You'd been only half a day fresh from your vault when you'd seen him scavenging madly over a mess of bodies he'd dropped where they stood, searching for a number of vials kept in their pockets that he let drip into his open mouth like a fountain of youth. When you had called out a friendly hello to him, he'd nearly shot your brains out. Cooper had taken in your shocked expression - as you'd clearly never seen a ghoul before - as well as the stark blue of your vault suit and the pack over your shoulders, then promptly told you to scoot your ass back around to wherever the hell you had come from. Of course, you hadn't. You'd followed him from a distance, watching as he'd picked his way across the dusty sands until he'd wrangled you with the lasso at his hip, told you to fuck right off, and left you tied to a number of old pipes in the basement of a nearly collapsed building.

A day later, you'd tracked his footprints in the sand to a little settlement, where you hadn't ducked away quick enough to avoid his gaze. He'd threatened to blow your brains out if he caught you following him again. He'd only half-delivered on that promise when, not ten hours later, he'd planted a fist-sized hole in the skull of a raider attempting to cut your throat for the Pip-Boy affixed to your wrist.

From then on, he'd simply chosen to ignore you as you followed behind him like a lost dog, intent on staying with the biggest, baddest wolf in the yard. After a week, he'd tossed you a part of his rations. A week after that, he'd - not too gently - invited you to sit at the campfire with him when he saw you shivering beneath your thin, vault-issued blanket a good few yards away.

Somewhere along the way you'd started to talk. Started to share - at least, you had. Cooper had simply tucked his hat over his eyes and pretended not to listen while you rattled about this and that until he physically couldn't take it anymore and told you to go the fuck to sleep.

These months later, having accompanied him all this time, you didn't hesitate to call him a friend. Maybe something more, if you let the ache between your legs when you looked at him speak for you, but you knew it was a fantasy and nothing more, so you decided to stick with 'friend.'

Back in the present, you swallowed and winced when your throat barked with a bout of pain in response. You didn't think you'd make it another mile, let alone five, which was how far Cooper claimed the nearest town was. Despite the months you'd spent adapting out here to the wastelands, you were still attempting to cope with the hardships that came with it. Vault life wasn't anything like this; there was always water to drink, beds to sleep in. Cool air to bask in when it got just the slightest bit too hot. Of course, you didn't voice these complains to your companion. If you did, you had no doubt he'd tell you to shut the fuck up and deal with it.

Just as you were about to ask if you could take a short break and get away from the harsh sun beating on your back like repeated blows from a red-hot hammer, a gloved hand wrapped around your arm and held you in place. You jerked to a stop, nearly falling back on your ass as Cooper held you where you stood. You prepared a strongly-worded question as to just what he was doing before you followed his gaze downward, to where a small handful of pairs of footprints traveled perpendicular to yours. Together, you tilted your heads to the left where the foreign prints were headed, and it was there you found a small slope leading downward into what may have once been a shopping mall. From where you stood, you were able to see that the glass dome around the center of the mall had been shattered, letting out the gentle sound of music and human hollers.

You exchanged a look with Cooper, each of you sunken from the iron-fisted heat weighing you down, then slid down the sandy slope after him when he took off toward the shopping mall.

If there was one thing you had learned about Cooper since planting yourself at his side and refusing to leave, it was that he valued silence above almost everything else. You, on the other hand, had come from a talkative vault, where gossip reached every end of every chamber only an hour - at max - after anything noteworthy had happened. Your companion had once called you the biggest yap he'd ever heard, and you would have taken it for a compliment had he not told you to shove it a moment after. The two of you had been silent nearly the entire day now, save for a few venomous barks at each other, and you cleared your scratchy throat in an attempt to lighten your shitty moods.

"I used to read about shopping malls in the magazines," you said, leaning your weight backwards as the sandy slope shifted downward. "They had all kinds of stores inside."

"Thanks for the reminder," Cooper bit back, quickening his stride. "Would have fuckin' forgot without you here."

You let your eyes roll into the back of your head as you struggled to catch up to him, your boots digging into the uneven earth beneath you. "When I was a kid, a few of my friends and I would draw pictures of clothes - because, you know, we only had our suits - and then spread them across one of our rooms and pretend to shop. It was stupid, but it we made entertainment where we could."

"Now, was this before you started pretending to be Billie Holliday?"

You gave him a sideways glance. "Who's that?"

Cooper shook his head and took off ahead of you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ."

During one of your, as your companion called them, yap sessions, you had confided in him that your vault valued the arts above anything else. Since you were a child, they had encouraged you to find something you enjoyed, as long as you were able to call yourself an artist. Painting hadn't worked out too well. Writing had been a bust. But then you'd discovered singing - a way in which you were able to express yourself without actually saying how you felt. You could drape the tunes in metaphors and similes, bump the second verse from the first, and when you were done, everyone would get to their feet to applaud as if your songs were the best things they'd ever heard. Cooper hadn't expressed much interest in this, instead taking to calling you a songbird with her wings clipped when he deemed you were at your lowest and needed to be kicked while you were down.

Of course, you hadn't shown him - you would have to be long dead for that - but over the course of the few months you'd known him, you had confided in your notebook carried in your pack all the little things you'd come up with that complimented his persona. How the gold at his heels called for you with each step he took. The way his hands, encased behind leather that creaked, held a smoke so delicately you could have imagined it was you. The rasping curl of his words when he smiled while he spoke and how each word cast a spell that made you want to follow him until the sun exploded and the earth was gone.

Cooper was an enigma you couldn't help but wonder after, and every scrap of himself he tossed to you led you on like a dog on a leash.

The music and echoing sound of laughter from deep inside the shopping mall became louder as the pair of you approached, eyes scanning for snipers on the roof or guards posted at the busted-out windows. There wasn't a person in sight, only mannequins stripped of their clothing hanging out the openings and long-shredded posters clinging to broken glass. Cooper led the way inside, picking a path across the wreckage and rubble stacked haphazardly against the entrance. You felt your pulse tick up when he produced his gun from the worn holster at his side, tapping his trigger finger against the side of the firearm in time with the music winding its way down the wide corridors.

As you followed your companion through the shopping mall, you couldn't help but ogle at the numerous attractions you passed. Shops had been boarded up and torn open again, giving you a glimpse of tattered clothes still on hangers, books tipped over on shelves, pre-war machines behind display cases that were covered in two hundred years' worth of dirt and grime. Gang signs and dirty catchphrases had been spraypainted along the walls and windows in a rainbow of colors. In the center of the long aisle you were wandering, a carousel meant for children sat neglected, still fitted with cartoonish horses who had seen better days than these.

"Did you used to come to these often?" you asked as you stepped across a mannequin missing its head.

"Shut the fuck up for a minute." Cooper raised a hand to pair with his little spat, silencing you from asking any further questions. His tongue darted out between his cracked lips as he placed his steps carefully around shattered glass and wind-up toys that would declare your position to the entire mall. He led you around a few wide corners before coming to a stop behind an old escalator, motioning for you to take cover. You crouched to peer around the other side, pulling your bag strap tighter over your shoulder. You were met with a sight that made your lips part in wonder.

Made up in the center of the mall's large atrium, directly beneath where the glass dome had been broken out, a small encampment of people had established what looked like a tiny town. Tents rested just inside nearby shop windows and winking Christmas lights had been strung above their heads. Lanterns cast shadows along the faces of the camp's locals as they milled back and forth, sharing dinners, reading from books - and dancing. Booming from a solar-powered stereo was a symphony of fiddles and guitars, harmonies of trumpets and clapping in time with the beat. A woman's tinny voice came through the speakers and she reminisced about an old lover who had gotten away. As you watched the people dance and stamp their feet along with the music, you found yourself drumming your fingers along, as well.

You were so engrossed in the music that you nearly missed what Cooper had his watchful eye on; the fridge-sized container with several spigots on its sides marked with a large piece of paper that read 'Clean Water.'

You and Cooper ducked back behind the escalator.

"Bunch of fuckin' idiots," said Cooper as he pulled a red-capped round from his bandolier and loaded it into his gun's chamber. "That shit'll attract every goddamn raider and feral within the mile."

"They're just having fun," you said, unsure of why you felt so defensive of these people you didn't even know. Maybe it was because they reminded you of your fellow vault dwellers back home. There had been a dance or performance like this nearly every night.

Cooper scoffed. "Fun like this gets you killed, little lady."

Your eyes widened as you watched him pull back the hammer of his firearm. "You're not going to just go up there and start shooting, are you?" You knew for a fact that he would. You'd seen him do it before - draw his pistol and start spinning the trigger because a raider or flock of ferals had what he wanted. But this - this was something different. Before he could do anything more, you reached out and grabbed his upper arm in a grasp so tight your knuckles paled. He flashed you a dark, dangerous look from beneath the brim of his hat, but you refused to let go. "Cooper, these people are innocent. They haven't done anything to us."

"Listen here, dollface, and listen well," he said, quickly spinning you around so that your back was pressed against the escalator. He caged you in, his gun hand still in your grasp and his other arm propped against the wall beside your head. You tried your damndest to not flush when you felt his breath on you, when his hips came just inches from pressing up against yours. "If we're goin' to be carryin' on this little arrangement, you need to learn to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut when I tell you to shut it. Now, I know you vaulties think everyone and their mama is goin' to repay that silly kindness of yours, but do not be mistaken. Keep yappin' and I will drink my fill of that there water while I make you watch, and then I'll tip the rest of it onto the floor. You hear me?"

You were at a loss for words, your tongue dry and your knees beginning to feel wobbly from the lack of water and proper rest. Just when you were about to let your eyes fall back down and accept that he was going to clear out the settlement for their water, footsteps echoed past where the two of you stood. Cooper snapped around and raised his pistol, his other arm still caging you in, and aimed down the barrel at a few young men approaching the rest of the locals beneath the glass dome. Instead of yelling, instead of dropping their belongings and begging for their lives while they pissed their pants in the presence of a ghoul, the men waved and smiled friendly grins.

"No need to hide," one said, gesturing the pair of you toward the others. "Y'all are welcome to come and make yourselves cozy. The more the merrier!"

They continued on, greeted by the other locals with shouts of welcome backs and fond hugs, paying no mind to the wide eyes and parted lips of you and your companion. Breaking away from Cooper's little cage he had created with himself and the wall - as much as it pained you to - you peeked back around the escalator. The young men pointed your way, and a number of people waved in kind and beckoned you forward. You found yourself taking a few steps toward the inviting sight of fresh water and the smell of food being cooked over one of the fires when Cooper snagged you by the back of your suit's collar and pulled you back into cover.

"Where on this good green earth you think you're goin'?" he said in a hushed tone, bringing your face close to his with a commanding grip on your jaw. Another flutter of excitement, of blood rush, bubbled to life in the pit of your stomach and began to travel south, but you suppressed the urge to lean into his touch. You didn't pull away, either.

"They invited us," you said, your eyes wandering back over to the light flickering from the lanterns and fires. "It's rude to turn down an invitation."

Cooper harrumphed and released you a little harsher than necessary. "What you've got is a one-way ticket to bein' on tomorrow's menu, sweetheart," he said, tilting his head to follow your gaze and keep eye contact when you looked away. "If you've about had your fill of the real world up here topside, then be my guest. Go and let'em fatten you up. I'll pour one out for 'ya tonight."

Deciding not to wonder if he would actually pour one out for you, if you really meant that much, you scoffed and shook your head. "You know it's okay to let your guard down every once in a while. Smile, maybe? Wave back? No wonder you're so damn bitter, old man."

Cooper stared down at you, and you wondered briefly if he was considering slamming your head into the side of the escalator. Would he drag you away with him, you thought? Or would he leave you for the strangers just around the corner. After what seemed an eternity, he hummed a short little note and nodded his head toward the camp. "You want to play friends, little lady? Go ahead. See how far that gets you before I've got to turn around and put one between the eyes of a man who's not lookin' just for the sake of lookin'."

With the faintest hint of a smile, you blinked up at him. "You'd turn around for me?" you asked in a murmur.

He matched your heated gaze, dark eyes intense and flaring a torch in your belly. "I suppose you'll just have to find out one of these days."

Swallowing thick, you took a breath, then turned and led him toward the little encampment of people. Heads turned as the pair of you approached, and you found that most of them smiled. You waved to those who offered little shakes of their hands, trailed by a ghoul stalking in his own shadow and resting the crook of his palm on his pistol. You were met by a kind-faced woman near the large tank of water, and she was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the thumping music.

"You folks just get in?" she said, already fixing two bowls of stew from a large pot simmering over a fire.

You broke yourself from the staring match you were having with the pot, the same one Cooper was still stuck in. Although, he may have been watching the chickens that roamed inside a little pen nearby as he licked his lips. "Yes, ma'am," you said over the trill of the woman's singing. You so desperately wished you knew the words so you could sing along. "I hope we're not imposing."

"Not at all!" A bowl of stew was pushed into your hands, and you forced yourself to be polite and not spoon it down your throat immediately. At your side, your companion gave the rim of the bowl a lick with the tip of his tongue before tipping it to slurp up. "We pride ourselves in being an open community. We might be small, but that just means there's more to share." The tin cups of water she handed over didn't last but five seconds before she was refilling them. "Make yourselves comfortable and stay however long you like. All we ask is that you keep your weapons holstered and don't disturb the music."

You and Cooper took seats at a dining table that had been dragged over from the cafeteria, neither of you speaking much as you both wolfed down what was in the bowls in front of you. Both of your spoons went untouched, each electing instead to drink up the strangely-colored meat floating around inside. Cooper finished much faster than you, and shucked off his gloves so that he could dip his scarred finger in to collect what juices were left. When he was finished, the bowl looked as though it hadn't even been used.

Watching him with a small smile, you let up from your own bowl and said, "I'm waiting."

"For what, exactly, little lady?"

"Your apology." You lapped up the rest of your stew before politely setting your bowl inside of his. "You wanted to -" You hesitated and glanced over your shoulder to make sure no one was too close to hear you. "You know." Then you settled a rather self-satisfied smirk over your features. "And look where we are now. So I'd like my apology now."

Cooper sucked on his finger, ensuring he was getting every last morsel of the stew that he could, and your attention was pulled down to where his lips wrapped around his digit. A part of you began to imagine it was yours. He noticed you staring and grinned wide. "And you know what I'm waitin' for, darlin'?"

"What?"

"For you to walk yourself over there and get me seconds."

You rolled your eyes, but nevertheless grabbed your stacked bowls and began to make your way over to where the woman was tending to the pot. "You'd better be thinking about your apology," you called over your shoulder. When you turned back around you nearly collided into someone retreating back to their spot with their own dinner. You jerked to the side, attempting to get out of their way first, and in doing so rammed yourself into the stereo set on a table in the center of the little camp. You watched in horror, bowls clasped to your chest, as the stereo tumbled over the edge of its pedestal and fell to the floor, where it shattered into what must have been hundreds of pieces. The camp became shrouded in a tense, shocked silence as every eye in the mall turned to face you and look upon your sin.

"I..." Your voice carried through the atrium and down the corridors of the shopping mall, sounding like an isolated cry for help. "I'm so sorry. I - I didn't mean to, I really didn't. Here, I might be able to fix it." You bent down to try and gather the pieces with your free hand, and the moment you did, a number of the camp locals drew weapons to aim in your direction.

"Now," came that familiar drawl behind you as you heard a hammer lock into place. "Are we really goin' to be killin' each other over some silly radio?" asked Cooper, and you felt some of your nerves ease slightly when you felt his chest press against your back.

A man to your right hissed. "You killed him!"

You shook your head viciously. "No, no! I - I didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry, I really am."

"You killed Sterry!" a woman accused.

"Sterry?" You looked down at the broken stereo and began to scoop up the bigger pieces you could find. "I - I can fix Sterry, I swear -"

"There's no fixing Sterry," moaned the woman who had served you stew as she sunk into the closest bench, looking as though she were about to faint. "He's dead. And you've killed us all."

You glanced back at Cooper, who wielded both his pistols now, each pointed in a different direction toward locals who had drawn their weapons. He offered a shrouded look that screamed, 'Now, didn't I tell you so, sweetheart?' You took a shuddering breath and faced the woman who had served you. "What do you mean?" you asked.

The woman placed her head in her hand as if she'd already accepted her fate. It was a daunting sight, the face of a woman so cheery and joyful such a short time ago, now deflated as though someone had let out all her air. "This place," she said, gesturing vaguely to the mall around you. "It's infested." The word was so heavy you felt as though you nearly choked on it. "Infested with creatures that will tear us limb from limb now that you've ruined everything. The music! The music was what kept them away, and now that it's gone..."

As if on cue, from the darkness of one of the long-winding corridors straight ahead, there came the bone-rattling sound of a feral hissing and snapping its weathered jaw. A few of the locals scrambled back as the creature emerged from the inky blackness, arms twisted and eyes sunken so far back into its skull they looked like they were forever pointed toward the sky. It took a rushed few steps forward before Cooper's arm rotated and he put a hole between its eyes. The feral dropped to the floor, leaking dark blood that stained the tile floor.

"Stop being so dramatic, Uma," said an older gentleman who stooped at your feet to begin gathering the pieces of Sterry. You immediately dropped to your knees to help. "We've fixed Sterry before, and we'll fix him again. It won't take long. But while we do, we'll need something to drive those creatures off..."

Your stomach dropped when, as you stood to hand over the pieces of the stereo, you felt Cooper's hands - still fitted with his pistols - rest heavily on your shoulders. "Well, then, y'all folks are in luck," he drawled, and you could practically hear the smirk playing his lips as he spoke. "I've got my very own songbird right here. I'd be happy to lend her to 'ya if, say... you filled our flasks from that there tank when the time comes for us to leave."

"Cooper," you hissed through your teeth as you spun around to face him. Singing for your vault was one thing, but singing for a bunch of strangers in the middle of an infested mall while ferals stumbled from the darkness all around you? He may as well have tossed you back out into the wastes. "You are not going to fucking trade me -"

"Done," said the old man as he sat down and began to sort Sterry's pieces. "Have your girl start singing - anything her heart desires. Just long enough for me to fix old Sterry here."

Giving the man a mock salute that didn't quite raise to his brow, Cooper shoved you onto a bench so that you stood over the rest of the camp. From this angle, they were all able to see your petrified expression and your hands shaking at your sides. "You heard the man," your companion said and smacked the back of your knee. "Get to it, songbird."

"Cooper, I can't -"

Before you were able to finish, Cooper turned, his ears pricking at something yours did not pick up, and dropped another feral that had been silently stalking the camp from the other side. A few of the locals yelped in terror, fleeing into shopfronts and tents.

"Sing for me, sweetheart," Cooper said. He sent you a wink, tipped his hat, then unleashed another round of lead into the darkness which only his eyes could penetrate.

You felt as if you were going to vomit. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you fisted your hands and swayed slightly where you stood on the bench. Turning your head, you met the eyes of a few camp locals watching you from their hideouts, their expressions filled with fear, anger, anticipation. They were waiting. Expecting. Needing. Attempting to push down the swelling that was beginning to form in your throat, you looked down at Cooper as he emptied his pistols of empty shells before reloading in order to fend off the ferals attacking the camp - the very camp he'd wanted to take out not half an hour ago.

He'd told you to sing for him. So you'd sing. For him, and only him.

Clearing your mouth and opening your lips, you took a breath and forced yourself to sing. "Death will come from where the earth meets the sky." Your voice wobbled slightly, rusty from having not singing since you left your vault. That, along with the fear and dehydration sitting on your tongue. "The sand is scorched beneath his step, the future decided by his eye." As you sang, the miniature explosions banging from the barrels of Cooper's pistols created a short, quick beat you unconsciously began to tap your foot along to. "He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

Ferals shrieked in response to the gunfire, to the song torn right from your notebook in your pack, and one by one, like stage performers who had practiced this dance a hundred times, they dropped at the feet of the camp.

"Death's got a girl who croons his songs, which is why he never stays for long. He's got to run back to his lady, just as harsh as he, he's coming for you, but he's running back to me." As you sang you realized your voice was getting louder, louder, swelling until it filled the mall's atrium and every corridor far beyond. You tapped your heel along with the rhythm you'd created, closing your eyes and imagining an audience of one; a ghoul with his arms slung out across the chairs beside him and a knowing smirk playing his thin lips. It pulled you forward, pulled forth a song you hadn't realized was already in you. "He might sound mean, but I swear, he's kind. He's just got to peer into these eyes of mine. I'll ride with him, and he'll follow me, leaving behind a trail of blood far as the eye can see. Oh, my baby's got teeth to bite and a gun to blow, see his smoke and soon you'll know. Death ain't my man, he's my right hand. He'll come for you all in the end, you'll never be free... he'll come for you all, but never for me."

You had just been nearing a second verse when, from where it rested before the old man on the table, the stereo jumped back to life and filled the atrium with thrumming, pulsing folk music. It drowned out your voice, silenced you like a gunshot, and the ferals teetering on the edge of the darkness leading to the rest of the mall stumbled back into their hiding places. The camp locals slowly emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about Sterry and his newfound love of life. Feeling a little stupid still standing on the bench, you climbed down and shuffled away toward where you had been originally sitting.

Taking a seat, you rested your forehead on your arms and exhaled a shaky breath. What had you been thinking? Singing a song for the man you'd become hopelessly fascinated with while he was just a few feet away, battling ferals who were intent on tearing out your throat and taking your voice with it? You were such a fucking idiot. You wouldn't be surprised if he told you to never open your mouth again.

Just as promised, your flasks were filled to the brims with fresh water before you went on your way, leaving the mall atrium and the singing, dancing camp locals behind as you picked your way back outside. Neither you nor Cooper said much as you continued your trek to nowhere, leaving a pair of footprints like echoes in your wake. Your cheeks remained flushed long after the mall had disappeared into the horizon, and long after you picked out an abandoned building to set up camp for the night. For once, it wasn't from the heat.

You sat across the lantern and what light it cast from Cooper, who stared into the little beacon as if he were watching the most fascinating flick within its glass. You held your notebook in your lap, thumb marking your place as your tried to write, but nothing would come to mind save for the things you'd sung about today. Mortification stirred like a serpent in your belly, and you briefly considered excusing yourself to get up and throw up outside.

"Let me see that book you've got there."

Your head lifted at Cooper's request - more of a demand - and unconsciously tightened your grip around your notebook. Your notebook - full of songs, melodies, lyrics. The most recent half of which you had written about the ghoul staring at you. "This?" you said, your trembling voice giving way to your nerves. You forced out a chuckle and smacked it shut. "It's nothing worth looking at."

"Why not?" he said, voice rasping lower than the baritone he usually held it at. You swore his gaze was hotter than the sun during the day and the fires at night. "You got more songs 'bout little old me in there?"

Fuck, he knew. Fuck all, he knew. You felt your flush deepen as you pointedly tucked your notebook into the bottom of your pack and flipped the top shut. "I... I don't know what you're talking about," you said, avoiding his eyes. Instead you focused on the fraying tip of your boot. "I wrote that a long time ago. Back in my vault."

"Uh huh." Cooper stared you down for so long you thought that perhaps time had frozen. Then he took a barely-there breath. "Come over here, songbird. Let me get a good look at you."

For a long, long moment, you remained still as you ever had been. What was he saying? Normally the only time he let you close to him was when he invaded your personal space to deliver a shove or to smack your knee or thigh to tell you to get a move on. Your breath hitched when you finally lifted your head and found his gaze boring into yours, heavier than a ton and white hot like a branding iron.

"I ain't goin' to tell you again, pretty girl."

As if he had you on a fucking leash - because you swore he did - you found yourself pitching forward, crawling on your hands and knees toward him. He spread his legs slightly, enough to give you room to fit between them, and hesitantly, so very carefully, you rested yourself against his front. His rough, scarred hands, free of his gloves, came up to rest on the swell of your hips as if they were made to be there, fitting like puzzle pieces against your skin beneath your vault suit. You stared up at him, backlit by the lantern light, and let his thumb drag down your bottom lip until it slipped from his touch.

"Didn't think my songbird had such desire in her," Cooper chuckled, his warm breath fanning across your face.

You relished in the goosebumps that crawled over the planes of your skin. "I... I don't..."

"Oh, you'd be dead wrong if you said that little ditty you sang today wasn't all about desire." He settled back deeper where he sat, giving you more room to settle against him between the columns of his thighs. Your lower belly rested against his crotch, where you felt the hard outline of his cock straining against his trousers. Your heart skipped a beat or three. "If you wanted to ride with death, sweetheart, all you needed to do was ask."

Cooper sealed his lips to yours without word or warning, pulling a surprised little noise from the back of your throat that he swallowed up with fervor. As the initial shock faded, you found your eyes slipping shut and your mouth moving against his, lips opening without fight when his tongue demanded to explore your own. Bracing yourself with one hand against his thigh, you reached up with your other and cradled the back of his head, knocking off his hat in the process.

Swift to get a move on, to feel you against him and swallow up more of your sounds, Cooper easily flipped you around so that you were now lying flat on your back and he was hovering over your prone form. Both tingling excitement and nauseating nerves pulled groans from your lips as he moved to pressing harsh kisses and nips to the column of your neck, licking up red spots that would surely bruise come morning time. He shucked off his duster and abandoned it somewhere behind him, at the same time, by some skill you had no idea anyone possessed, also grasping at the zipper of your vault suit to pull it down as far as it would go.

It didn't take long for you to shimmy out of the suit, leaving you in just your underwear, the seams of which he traced with his calloused finger. It sent a chill running up your spine despite the heat prodding at your skin.

"My songbird sounds real pretty when she's singin'," Cooper muttered as he sucked a bruise into the swell of one breast over the cup of your bra. "I bet she sounds even better screamin' for me."

His hand plunged beneath the waistband of your panties and began to explore your folds, pulling a long, whining moan from your lips. He ate you and your whimpers up, devouring your lips like he wanted to eat you whole - maybe he did - while his middle finger ran up and down your cunt a few times before deftly finding your clit and applying a bit of pressure to the sensitive bud. You cried out. It had been far too long since you'd seen any real action. It didn't take long before your folds were soaked, and he was able to gingerly nudge his finger past the entrance of your pussy. It felt foreign to have another person thrusting their finger in and out of you, building you up to a kind of high you hadn't known since far before you left your vault. In less than a few minutes - something he would surely tease you about later - you felt that familiar coil snap in your stomach and you soaked his hand with a loud, throat-rattling wail that escaped your lips and flew right past his.

Cooper pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk and pulled his hand from your panties, lifting his spread hand to show you to slick you'd coated his digits with. You were only able to huff for breath and watch with hooded eyes as he brought his fingers to his mouth and used his skillful tongue to lick off your cum. You briefly wondered what else that tongue of his could do, what it would feel like to have him lap up your pussy like it was the only thing to guarantee him his daily hit of medicine.

"Sweet as honey, baby," he cooed, bracing himself with one hand while the other worked on the buckle of his belt. "Well. Maybe Tennessee honey. You ever had a taste of that?" He knew you hadn't. But that didn't stop his smirk from growing in size when you numbly shook your head. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, baby. We'll get you a lick one day. 'Til then..."

Your limbs dancing with pins and needles, you lifted your hips to help him tug off your panties. "I'll just have to settle for what I've got," you exhaled with a hazy smile.

Cooper grinned wide, a smile that bordered on the edge of dark, as he tugged down his trousers just enough for his cock to spring free. He was thick - larger than you'd expected - and his member was rough and scarred like the rest of him. It made you want to feel him all the more. "I'll promise you somethin', darlin," he said as he positioned himself at your entrance and you locked your legs around his waist, heels digging into the edge of his gun belt. "I'm better than anything else you'll taste these days." With that he slid into you, filling you at once to the brim like he just couldn't wait to feel you from the inside. A loud, sharp yelp escaped your lips as your back arched instinctively, curling yourself up into him. He only waited a few moments for you to adjust before he started moving, pulling himself out to the tip before thrusting back inside your welcoming cunt. You were able to feel each and every ridge of him, every scar, and you swore you were getting drunk from just the feeling.

"Fuckin' shit, girl," he groaned, moving to press the flat of his hand to the base of your neck so that he could keep you in place while he fucked you. "Better than I could've fuckin' dreamed."

Cooper's thrusts began to increase in speed, your moans and whimpers accompanied by his low, almost growling snarls he panted against the shell of your ear. You couldn't believe this was happening. You were being fucked by the ghoul you'd been following all these months, the ghoul you'd been watching and studying and falling hopelessly for. And it felt good. It felt so fucking good, a part of you wasn't entirely convinced this entire scenario wasn't a dream concocted by the recesses of your mind.

"God, Coop," you heard yourself moan as your nails dug crescent moons into the fabric of his shirt. "Feels so fucking good..."

"Atta girl," he muttered, moving his head down so that he could suck at the junction where your neck met your shoulder. "Such a sweet little songbird." His grip on your hips tightened as his movements increased even further. "Might just have to fuck you good every night so I can hear you sing for me."

You panted deep as you felt your second orgasm of the night approaching at an alarming rate. Your hips bucked up to meet his with each thrust, the sound of skin on skin filling the abandoned building in which you had taken shelter. "Don't have to - ah! - even ask. I'll sing for you any time, Coop."

Cooper's breaths came shorter, sharper, and it wasn't long before he came with a harsh bite against your shoulder, one that spilled blood into his awaiting mouth and pulled your own orgasm from deep within your depths. You shuddered and cried for him, tugging him close and holding him there for several minutes after your highs had faded and your breaths evened.

Finally, he pulled himself off of you. A short whine escaped you when he slipped from your heat, and he chuckled low before tossing you your panties to slip back on. When you were both covered again, you sat up and crossed your legs as you basked in the afterglow of what had just taken place. Cooper dug around in his saddlebag for a moment before producing his inhaler and drinking up a shot of his medicine, shaking his head against the sudden buzz that came with it as he sat back on his elbows and stared at the lantern light.

"I..." You struggled to find the words so desperately clawing at your chest. "I hope you don't..."

Cooper reached up and pulled your wrist out from under you, causing you to fall back on the ground beside him with an 'umph.' He let his arm cushion your fall before sweeping a few strands of hair from your face and giving you that crooked smirk which made your legs fall numb all over again. "Oh, don't you worry yourself, songbird," he said. "I ain't lettin' you fly away from me any time soon."

[eupheme]

— from eden

old man logan x mutant!f!reader

rated e - 5k

tags: Logan timeline, sorta divergent/fix-it fic, angst, hurt/comfort, everyone is going through it, wound tending, dark thoughts/references to violence/death (aligning with themes in the movie), neurodegenerative disorders (Charles), multiple pov, established relationship, shower sex, oral sex, PiV, feelings

a/n: still on my druid!mutant kick - reader absorbs the sun via photosynthesis and can transfer that energy to grow plants. no features described but small details & a codename are noted in reference to her mutation.

Every day you wish you could do more. More for Charles. More for him. But the harsh sun eats away at you. You weren’t built for this heat.

You were meant for gardens. For Eden.

But you think… as your fingers trail through the earth, your life force flowing down into the greenery below - if something can grow here, in the desert - then maybe, so can hope.

Logan finds you in the garden.

It's generous to call it that. Carved out with old bits of metal, used like a spade. Scraping through dirt, packed and hard from the burning sun. Dust swirling around you - catching under your nails that are as tough as bark.

The only bit of green for a couple miles, at least. Incongruous to the climate - all you can see is desert around you.

It's only you that keeps it alive.

Your hands pass over each stalk and stem. The low thrum that used to come so easily, siphoning your life force to the roots below, comes slowly now.

Used to be able to make things bloom, just by feeling.

A garden had sprouted your first night together. Blooming lush - vines twining around the bookshelves. Wildflowers in your hair. Moss spreading out across the wooden floor, out and into the mansion.

Everyone had known you were in love.

It feels so long ago now. Another lifetime.

Now you can only tend them. You’re at your strongest in the rain, but it’s day twenty-three of sunny, blue skies. No more than a wisp of a cloud on the horizon.

It leaves you wilting. A half-broken lawn chair, dragged to face the packed-dirt road. Watching for him, as your face tips up to the sky. A slowly-recharging battery, one that hasn't been full in years.

But the sun is unforgiving. The tips of your fingers and toes darken - it's too much.

And not enough.

An eye cracks open, with the slam of a car door. There's a limp to his gait - a hand braced against the limo. Something you notice immediately. The way it takes him longer than usual to reach you.

That severe frown softening at the edges, but still holding a weight he's carried for years. A brown bag held out silently, the top crumpled from his fist.

Your fingers brush his, and you know he can see the burn. The mark between his eyebrows deepens.

"Don't push too hard, blossom," Logan rasps, "'Bout time to go in."

It makes your jaw grit, as you bristle.

You want to protest. Ask him "well, what in the hell do you think you're doing/?" He's the last person that should be lecturing you, as he shifts - a crimson glint of red near his collar.

But you don't. He doesn't mean it that way.

It comes out wrong, you've learned that by now. Misplaced anger - seeping into your roots like poison. Loving him so fiercely that it aches, to see him this way.

The Logan you knew and loved changed that day at the mansion.

"I will." You tamp the feelings down, burying them with the rest, "Let me get these started, and I'll be in."

He lingers, for a long moment.

You rip the seed packets open, scattering them across the earth you've prepared. Essentials, fit to feed Charles.

Carrots, beans, tomatoes, onions. Kale and fresh berries.

A packet of wildflowers.

There's a lump, lodged in your throat. You look over your shoulder, just as he disappears inside.

An inhaled breath, as you begin.

He knows you hate it, all the dust. The heat.

Knows you stay, for him.

Logan always was your sun.

"He's bleedin' again." It's muttered out, in greeting.

Caliban's eyes flick towards the back door, "Don't know if I've got enough peroxide to get it out."

Your smile is weary, "We'll figure it out. Always do."

A fine pair the two of you make. Only the mornings and evenings spent together, in your slow rotation of work-Charles-eat-sleep, and always just out of sync.

He tends to the smelting plant. An attempt at keeping things in place, keeping things running. Something simmering on the makeshift stove, as you empty your apron into the sink.

Outside is your domain - days spent with wind-whipped skin. The desert heat surrounding you.

"Could use some potatoes," Caliban offers, without thinking.

Peeling back the husk and silk on an ear of corn, fished out. Peering down at the kernels beneath - still hesitating, even though it's clean.

Your arms cross over your chest, head tilting, "Well, you're welcome to ask him."

It all comes out hushed, even though you know Logan is out with Charles. He gives shoots a reproachful look your way - he's already taken an earful. Doesn't need another from you.

He's been with you both for a year now. A second set of hands, as the seizures worses. You hadn’t wanted to admit you needed help - but Logan had saw right through you.

Charles’s space feels like a tomb.

Each minute you spend in that dome makes you crave another five outside. Too much for you to handle alone - something that still eats away at you.

Never felt like you were doing enough.

Carried the others with you, as he did. The shame of feeling like you should've done more. That you should have been there with them.

Buried beneath the rose bush that bloomed, when you had first told Logan you loved him.

You had thought that he had been. Had spent two years adrift, so certain he had been lost. That adamantium had not been enough to suppress the force of the seizures - that it ripped through the metal and took him from you.

It's why you cling now. Worried. Seeing how each day changes him, like it does you.

It's why you grow the vegetables for them. Even then, it's not enough. The suppressants they released still worked its way into the water and soil. You'd already ingested enough food to have it affect you.

Used to eat for fun, for pleasure. Haven't had a bite in two years now. Haven't needed to, haven't wanted to. Looking to the sun instead, even if it burns.

Now, you're just maintaining. Trying not to worsen, trying your best to keep them afloat, even if it costs you.

"Sorry." You mutter.

Easing into the routine of ladling out bowls. Chunks of half-stale bread, from the last time he baked. Hadn't harvested as much wheat this season as you would have liked. Pests chewing up a portion before you noticed.

The drought makes you hazy. Running on fumes for a while now. Same as all the rest.

Two bowls set on a plastic tray. A glass of tepid water in a chipped mason jar tucked in the crook of your arm. Fingers swirling in the liquid to cool them, before you're tilting it back - taking a swallow. Just managing to ease your parched throat.

"How is he?" You ask.

Caliban's eyes are slow to meet yours. He looks at you like he knows something you don't. Few secrets between you, except ones like these that he keeps deep. It always sends a twist in your belly.

Curling vines, weaving between your ribs.

"Logan or Charles, dearest?"

"Both." You sigh, "Either."

“Logan is… well. You saw him.” Caliban mutters. His nose twitches. A breath - as if he means to say something.

He falls silent instead, pivoting, “And Charles still thinks he's in Macbeth."

It makes your heart lurch, how so kind and sound a mind had changed. Not his fault and it only makes you love him more, after everything.

“Been asking about someone named Erik lately, too.”

You and Logan had agreed. It was better that Charles didn’t know, if he didn’t have to. That the two of you would bear it - shielding him like he had shielded so many for years.

But it never made the memories any easier.

His head inclines towards the trays, "You want me to take those out?"

Caliban knows you hate it.

You know the sun is still setting, sitting golden on the horizon.

A shake of your head, as the tray tucks under your arm.

“Thanks, Cal. I've got it."

The music comes first - 60s-era jazz, floating through the opened door. Voices come after, as you step into the shadows.

“-sorrow words, the grief that does not speak," Charles's reciting pitches louder, as his chair wheels in front of you, "Knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break-”

Logan stalks after, reaching for the controls.

"Enough."

"Thrice the brinded cat-"

The tray clatters on the top of an old desk. You step in front of them, arms spread wide, "Charles."

The chair halts, going still.

Something scrapes at your brain, when his hazy eyes meet yours. Fingers sifting through files. A dealer skillful hands, l shuffling through cards - snapping them back into place.

Plucking old memories from you like weeds. Dragging them to the surface, long buried.

He doesn’t mean to.

Doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

Your breath coming in a ragged gasp, eyes meeting Logan's. He doesn't need Charles powers to know what you're thinking.

Afraid that he'll see. What he’ll remember.

"Come on." Logan is hoisting him out of his chair. A grunt as he struggles, near dead-weight in his arms, “Enough poking around.”

Depositing Charles in his hospital bed, the last golden rays of sun streaking across the worn blankets. Logan just starts to move away, when a hand fists in his dark tie, dragging him close.

"You're not listening to me. No one listens to me." The words almost seem lucid, with how sharp his eyes suddenly shine, "Liberty, Logan. They're waiting for you. Eden-“

"No one is waiting for me." It's barked out.

Uneasy, tipping towards harsh.

Logan's patience has always ran thinner than a knife’s blade. It's love that keeps him here, you know that as well as you know your own name.

You have to step between them to break the connection. Hand wrapping around Charles' wrists - soothing, easing them down into his lap - as Logan fishes a bottle out of his pocket.

Slipping a needle into his arm. It's fluid, how you move together. Easier to help him together, then when you're alone.

It soothes the seizures. Thoughts slipping between his fingers, as he settles. The anger with it, as you bring dinner over to them. Your hand extended to take the pills that Logan shakes from a bottle.

"Take these, Professor." You coax, handing over a stained mug from the attached tray.

The chalky pills disappear, with the tilt of his head and a swallow of weak tea. Only then does it feel like you breathe. Letting your fingers drift across the makeshift herb garden he has sitting on the desk, something you tend together.

Eyes closing, as you concentrate. Pink petals blooming, plucked from the stem, and placed in Charles' open palm.

Logan's gaze a heavy weight - too tired from the day - you could already hear it in his voice. In the slow shift of his weight, as he eats.

"Only one?" The wizened fingers close like a cage around the flower, "You’ll have to work harder, Crescere."

The name is one that you haven't heard in years. It ricochets through you like a bullet, threatening to rip you open. You must show it in your face - a hand reaches to smooth down your back.

It soothes you, until an edge creeps into Charles's voice.

"If you cannot do more, how will you ever survive without soil?"

Logan goes stiff at the words. Breaking contact as if he'd been burned. A rough tilt of his head, as he pushes himself up.

“I’ll be inside.” It’s gritted out, through clenched teeth.

Leaving you alone, perched on the edge of Charles’s bed.

His mood already shifting, as it often did. The anger and confusion flaring. Melding with the medication that slows his tongue, dulls his thoughts.

“Crescere,” His eyes fix on you, while you watch the door creak shut. The moonlight has just started to stream in now, and it's just dark enough to imagine a breeze, “Have I told you about Eden?”

You tuck him in. The worn quilt tugged up high against his chest. A fingers smooth down to wrap in his - his hands frail with age, but his grip is still strong.

Tears prick your eyes, but you smile - your hand gently squeezing.

“Tell me again.”

His fingers fumble with the buttons. The black tie tugged loose, hanging against his chest. A hiss of breath, as sore shoulders roll. The dress shirt caught against his bicep, the sleeves still pushed up around his elbows.

There’s a hand against his shoulder. Your fingers slipping beneath the fabric, easing it down his arms.

“You gonna stop running from me?”

It’s soft, in the room that you share. A far cry from the mansion - all cozy, stained wood. Home.

Here, it’s sheet metal. Car batteries running a broken coffee maker, blankets stained with sweat. An industrial fan, slowly spinning where it’s mounted into the wall.

Wasn’t trying to run.

Just couldn’t shoulder your hurt, knowing he caused it himself. Knows that the heat eats away at you. Has watched how you struggle, though you hide it so well.

And the open seas - the sun and the salt water - would it be enough? Could you ever be happy, away in a place like that?

You’ve told him all you need is him. But pretty thing like you should be somewhere else.

Somewhere safe.

Knew he was too old for you, even back at the mansion - and that was when his hair was just starting to grey at the temples.

Now, he wishes he could convince you to go. Even if he couldn’t live without you.

But he knows your answer. That set of your jaw. Rooting you in place, unmoving.

It flickers in you here, as your arms wrap around him. Nose buried against the nape of his neck, as he exhales a breath that he’s held all day.

His muscles going lax as he leans into your embrace - letting you move him. Touch gentle as you guide him towards the bathroom. Fitting between spread thighs as he leans against the cracked counter, your fingers tracing the red-stained rips on the white tank beneath.

A cloth, wrapped tightly around his fist.

“Running to you,” Logan husks, “Just lost my way.”

You soften before his eyes.

Unwinding the wrappings to check the wound across his palm. Your lips pressed against scar tissue. Moving to backs of his knuckles, between the angry red slits.

Something in his chest lurches. Calming the beast, as his palm cups your cheek. Letting you lead him into the old ceramic tub, even though the space was narrow.

Lets you strip him down, knowing your eyes flicker over each scar. Looking for ones you missed, though you know them all.

Already knows what you’re going to say, when your gaze catches on the still-healing wound - a bullet beneath his collarbone. In his chest, through his bicep.

“Can’t keep taking hits, baby.” You fingers trace just shy of the wounds. Blood flaking, where he hadn’t washed well enough - two days spent in a shitty motel, each one thinking of you.

Need to shield yourself. Pick your battles.

He’s heard it all before.

Tried to earlier - wanted to gut the Alkali-Transigen fucker who had climbed into his limo. He is trying, even if it doesn’t seem like it.

All he got was a business card burning a hole in his pocket. A lie of omission like a lead weight in his belly.

Another tucked against his chest - the bullet nestled in the pocket of his shirt. Resting against his heart while he drives. Hidden, when he returns home.

It’s insurance - but it would still crush you to find it.

“I’ll ease up when you do.” He counters, though his voice softens, “Pushing too hard, sweetheart. We could stand to eat less, if you need a break.”

You sigh, as you lean into him. Face muffled against his chest, and he only just catches the words.

“When I used to imagine playing house with you,” You breathe, “I always thought it would be a little different.”

It makes his heart jolt.

Something tearing inside him, as his mouth presses against yours. A hand searching to turn the handle - the water stale. A weak spray that only reaches room temperature.

But it’s enough.

You wash the red from him. Swirling down the drain as you coat the washcloth with a sliver of soap. Careful in your movements, as your hair dampens.

As his hands catch at your hips, looking for an anchor.

A little huff when you fingers twirl - when he has to let go, to turn around. Soaping up his back, fingers raking through his hair.

The stress of the day sluices from him. Melts away as your lips press against his back, trailing across his shoulders. Nails tracing against his abdomen, as he leans into your touch.

It’s always been softer than he deserved.

And when your hand drifts lower, swirling soap against the dark trail of hair that leads down, he guides your hand the rest of the way.

A throb, at the soft inhale of your breath. Fingers that close around him, coaxing him to full hardness. His own scrape against the tile, as he props himself up.

Eyes half-lidded, as you nuzzle against his scars. Fist working him from root to tip - he can’t resist bucking into your touch.

His own hand wandering. Hesitant.

Afraid he won’t find you the same.

Reaching behind him, feeling the stretch of healing muscle and sinew as he cups the curve of your ass. A held breath loosened, when he hears the needy sound you make, when his fingers slip to trace between.

Teasing, drifting down to where you’re slick. Honeyed.

Always for him. Only for him.

His eyes fully shut now, as his fingers work inside you. Feeling the clench, the way your hand stutters.

Your breathing turning harsh, panting. His name whined out as your hand dips to cup him - the pressure coiling low in his belly. Hips nudging against his as he pets at your clit, smearing your skin with your need.

Turning, when he isn’t able to take it any longer. Always would be strong enough to do this - to hitch your thigh around his hip.

Lifting you enough to rub his flushed cock against your folds. Your nails biting red marks into his shoulders as he lines himself up-

The water cuts off.

The evenings rations depleted.

Your laugh is more of a whine than anything, but it’s still a sound he treasures.

His own lips curving, and it feels like the first time in days.

The words rasps out, coated with need.

“Let me take you to bed, honey.”

His skin is still damp when he lays you down.

Nestling you against the pillows - ignoring your soft protests of needing to take care of him, as he seeks out the honey between your thigh. Hands tracing up your leg, calf to knee. Up against smooth skin, until he can hitch one over his shoulder.

Letting him bury himself deeper. Tonguing at your clit. Down to dip inside you, a rough groan against your skin as his hips rut into the mattress.

He had you close already. You always unfurled for him, and that hadn’t lessened with his age. Automatic, in the way his fingers fit inside you, finding the spot that has your back arching as you cry out.

Stroking against it again and again, a groan caught in his throat as your fingers twist into his hair and tug.

Logan’s name a soft cry as he tastes you sweeten against his tongue. The tight pulse around his fingers, echoing where his lips shift to suck against your clit.

It’s only when you reach for his wrist does he stop, content to spent the night right here if you’d let him - make up for the time spent away.

Only then does he relent. His arm stretching out behind the pillows as he finally lays back, the tug of a smile as he watches you.

There’s a sweetness about you - all limp-limbed as your thigh lifts across his waist. Straddling him, as you lean - tugging supplies out of the end table.

Squirming, as his head lifts - unable to help mouthing at your breasts. A heady throb down low when he can feel your heart kick up a notch.

Always doing things out of order.

Each shift of your hips rubs your pussy against his cock. Slick and wet and warm, and he catches the curve of your lips.

The slow rhythm, as you pack padding against his wounds. Affixing tape to his skin, a kiss placed against one - as if it would help them heal faster.

His look heated, and he knows you feel it too. The hitch of your hips. The pressure when you grind down - your eyes blown dark when you look at him from beneath your lashes.

He can give you what you need.

A grunt, as a hand grasps at your hips. The loose supplies slipping from his abdomen, as he coaxes you into your knees.

His other hand wrapping around the base of his cock, tilting his hard length up to rest against your belly.

“Need you.” It’s gritted out.

On another day he might have swallowed it down. Let you come to him.

But right now, he can’t take any more teasing, wrapped in your soft touch. He’s already resisting the urge to drive into you, as you angle him against your opening.

The slightest pressure, as you start to give around him - opening up. And when you finally sink down flush against him, he forgets himself.

It’s now and it’s six years ago - all those evenings spent, entwined.

Fitting together, watching the way your brow still pinches as your body makes room to take him - the stretch as your hands curl into fists against his chest.

“Missed you, sweetheart.” It slips from him, when your hips fully meet his.

It only makes you squeeze more tightly around him, his breath caught in a low rumble in his chest.

Your own admission, as you dip down to kiss him, “Missed you more.”

Finding himself transfixed, in spite of the weariness. The ache in his bones that are now a part of him are forgotten in the way you watch him.

Eyes half-lidded, as you find your balance. Starting a slow grind of your hips, a look thrown his way when you feel his muscles string tight beneath you.

The lightest pressure of your palms against his chest, careful of his wounds.

“Want to make you feel good.” It’s a command, tinged with permission. It’s woven with love, and the thought of taking matters into his own hands ebbs.

“Always do, sweetheart,” Logan husks, “Every fucking time.”

Letting himself settle back against the mattress. Losing himself in the tight grip of your pussy. Your soft curves, as his hands wander.

Squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, urging you to ride him harder. Slipping up to tease at your tits, an upward flex of his hips when you cry out his name.

You once told him that you wanted him the first moment you met him. Now, he wishes he had met you sooner.

A year. A day. Even a minute.

The thought pulses in his chest, in time with his heart. Fingers skating over skin as you ride him. A flash of white when he thumbs against your clit, giving you something to grind against.

You’re molten around him. Soft and sweet and it’s all he can do to match the way you bounce on his cock. Feet planting against the bed to help can meet you, urging himself just that little bit deeper.

Melting just a little bit further, when you can’t help but lean down - needing his mouth against yours.

Flattening yourself against his chest, as your rhythm goes needy. Sloppy grinds instead of the sharp slap, taking him deep and keeping him there.

His thumb swirls, and your ragged moan breaks the kiss. Head dipping as you lean back - hips chasing your pleasure, rocking into his familiar touch.

Can smell how much you need it. How you drip around his cock, the coarse hairs matted with your desire.

Teeth clenching, and it only makes him fuck to harder into you, to loosen your tongue.

“Logan, fuck-” It’s whimpered, in that pretty tone that he loves, “Think I’m gonna come-”

The leash he grasps onto slipping between his fingers. A low heat in his belly burning brighter, a pressure ticking down with each slap of his hips.

“Know you’re close. Let go, baby. So fucking good for me-”

Something rasped out, as you flutter around his cock. Taking him deep, spearing him into your belly.

“Fuck, I can feel you coming on my cock.” It comes out ragged, his breath catching, “Gonna make me come, too-”

Your gaze is dark. Hands pressing harder against his chest as you find yourself again, riding him harder. Panting through it, as it tips towards too much - your orgasm still burning brightly.

He's surrounded by you, and he only wants more. Fingers pinching into your hips, driving himself into you.

“Wanna make you come,” You breathe, “Want to feel you tomorrow-”

It’s enough that he forgets himself. A hands tight against your hip, a sharp tug that pulls you flush. The other curls around the back of your neck as he flips you beneath him.

Your gasping laugh pairs with his snarl. An arm hooking under your knee - pushing, opening you up as he holds you in place.

Watching how your eyes glaze. Following the tug of your fingers, bringing his mouth down to yours. Your pulse thundering beneath his thumb, as his tongue licks into your mouth.

He tastes like you, as his eyes slip shut. You linger on his lips, smeared across his beard. A ragged moan as your hips lift to meet the sharp smack-smack-smack of his hips, and then his vision is going hazy.

Your name snarled out, twining with soft sentiments. Hilting himself just as the pressure reaches its peak, his cock throbbing as he spills with a growl inside you.

The tension easing with each flex of his hips, fucking himself empty into your warmth. Into your embrace, your arms wrapping around and keeping him close. The scruff of his beard scrapes your cheek, but you only hitch a thigh around his hips - nudging him deeper.

Logan would stay here forever, buried in you, if he could. It slips from him, then - rasped low into your ear.

“Fuck, I love you.”

He should tell you more often. Would tell you every day, if not for the guilt that twists in his guts each time you say it back.

But tonight, he can only lean into it. The soft whisper, as your lips drag against his cheek. You say it just like you used to. It still comes just as easily.

“I love you too, Logan.”

And when his breathing settles and his eyes open - his chest catches.

You're adorned with your devotion - hair dotted with alyssum. Forget-me-nots and primrose dappled across your shoulders, yarrow and heather blooming around your curves.

Had learned the names of them, long ago. They come back, as his fingers trace over each bloom.

You’re beautiful.

But you always have been.

Prettiest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.

He bites harder, when he’s wounded.

No more than a cornered animal. But the anger - it takes a hold on him. Leaving him to soften, when there’s a hand he knows.

Making words slip from him that he’d tuck inside, on a different day.

“I do it for you, blossom.” It comes out quiet, in the darkened room, “You know that right?”

You shift against his shoulder. Head cradled against his chest, ear pressed to his heart.

“We do it for Charles,” You breathe, half-asleep. Fingers splaying across his sternum, tracing against the dark whorls of hair.

His own brush over petals. Used to help pluck them from you, after stolen moments during missions. Would love the way your face screwed up - a soft veil of embarrassment washing over you. His own lips pulled in a smug smile, as he had tucked one behind you ear.

Logan huffs, the sound low. Almost a laugh.

“I keep going for you.”

His heart would keep beating for a long time, but he thinks it would stop if yours did.

You press yourself tighter against him. It’s mumbled against his skin, “Keep going for you, too.”

There’s salt against his skin, tears you can’t afford to shed. Silent, as the stars creep higher in the sky above you.

Should be out driving, right now. Can’t bring himself to leave.

So he holds you, until your breathing slows. Until the tension eases once again, sleep taking you.

You never were afraid of him. Only for him.

Never hesitated to crawl into bed beside him, even with his nightmares. Can still remember your insisting.

Clip the stem of the flower, and the bloom will fade. Skewer it though, and it will grow around it - oozing golden ichor until it heals.

It's supposed to be a comfort.

But Logan doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s afraid that he plucked you from the earth, long ago.

You just haven’t realized it yet.

Logan finds you in the garden.

Charles is out with you today. Tucked beneath the afternoon shadows of the smelting plant. He would laugh - does laugh - at your excuse of a garden. It pales in comparison to the mansion. The old ivy that crawled up the walls, across the sprawling grounds.

You laugh with him, because - what else is there to be done?

The sound dies, as the limo comes back early. A hand shades your eyes, as he steps out.

Still weary, though not as much as yesterday. Worry set in the lines around his eyes the grit of his jaw.

The reason revealed, when he steps to the side. A girl, stumbling out of the back seat of the limo.

Her eyes are feral, and there’s something so familiar about her that it steals your breath.

“Crescere.” Charles breathes - more lucid than you’ve seen him in days, “That is Laura. She’s the mutant I told you about. The one we have to help get to Eden.”

And for a moment, he’s the Charles he was a decade ago. The one you would have followed to the end.

Something blooms in your chest, at the sight of the girl.

The mutant, when there hasn’t been a new one in so long. A tight knot unfurling inside you, and it feels like a new beginning.

It feels like hope.

and then they all left to find Eden together and nothing bad ever happened again! 😌💖 I'm heading back to Trouble Will Find Me and Come On And Show Me after this, just was struck with this idea and wanted to explore it! thanks so much for reading!!

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[stick2vamp]

Urmmmmm Haiiii … You’re my favorite Seb writer , absolutely adore yr stuff !!! Was wondering if I could req Seb and a reader who like …. Gives him a bouquet of coral and plants they find around the facility ……. If that makes sense …… (;´д｀)

𝜗 ˖ ❝ hm, for me? ᵕ ♡

— in which you have a gift for sebastian. ✧

↷　 766 wc 𓈒 sfw 𓈒 kind of implied sebastian has a soft spot for you ?

‿ A/N im glad to hear you like my stuff <3 gave up like halfway thru this i cannot lie

The Blacksite seems barren.

The only recurring theme of life present appears to be the monstrous and mutated entities that roam the halls, but you are unsure if some of them are alive. Any simple organisms no longer exist down here. Perhaps the pressure was too much for them to withstand in the first place, or maybe they were all destroyed during the breach. You're unsure: they won't bother to tell you minute details like that.

Yet, you've found that your original assumption was wrong. Exploring the multiple levels and rooms has allowed you to see the tiny glimpses of life still thriving here. The occasional potted plant—albeit wilting fairly quickly—stands alive in tiny rooms tucked away from most entities' eyes. Little chunks of coral float within the underground areas, likely broken off from the main body by the bull shark outside the windows. Tiny aquatic grasses, easily trampled on as you weave yourself out of a Searchlight's bright gaze.

You've wandered through the Blacksite many times, over and over again, with nothing new to see besides these little plants. They are the only unpredictable sight. The lights flicker to warn you of an Angler—but there are no warning signs of a simple plant. Squiddles make a gradual screeching noise as a warning—but there are no warning signs of a little flower. Perhaps that is why they are so beautiful down here: because you expect a monster, not a simple pot of grass.

However, no other beings here seem to hold the same sentiments as you. Most of them are mindless and have their minds set entirely on consuming. The only intelligent ones you can name right now seem uninterested, too. The bull shark with thousands of eyes littered in and outside themself? It seems they cannot see the plant's beauty even with their many eyes. The red face that warns you as they rush through and destroy the halls? Well, with how they mangle things in their path, you're not entirely sure if they care that much for them. The Painter?

. . . Well, the Painter probably likes flowers. But they cannot exactly interact with them.

Water trickled down your hand and dripped on the floor. You cradled a small fragment of blue coral in your palm. It had a rougher texture due to the little dips and bumps on its surface. The coral felt like nothing yet heavy at the same time as it rested in your hand. Its muted blue color looked even duller the more you looked at it.

It almost looked greenish, too.

The color reminded you of SEBASTIAN.

You forgot about him and his opinion on flowers. He seemed more uncaring and disinterested in small things, so you figured he probably wouldn't care for them. Yet, you knew he was once human. There must be a chance he may enjoy them.

You hadn't realized you pocketed the coral until your suit's legs were well-drenched.

Upon presenting the messy bouquet to Sebastian, he responded with a taunting voice, "Is this for me? You really shouldn't have." He carefully examined the bouquet under his esca, observing the colorful coral chunks and slightly wilted plants. He appreciated how the colors complimented him.

Sebastian quietly hummed as he inspected the gift further, using his claw with surprising gentleness to brush through and examine everything you'd collected. It was evident from his growing smirk and visible canines that he appreciated the gesture if only a bit. "Why, thank you, friend," he said, before placing the bouquet on his desk.

With a taunting tone, he mused, "Don't tell me you went out of your way to get this just for me, now." Sebastian paused and directed his gaze back to you. "You know, I'm sure I could bargain a good price for this with the other Expendables."

You couldn't tell if he was serious, at least not until you looked at how his tail swayed like a happy dog's. Or how his ears twitched when your smile grew. Or how his voice softened ever so slightly as you eventually left.

Unsurprisingly, the bouquet was still there on your next visit, neatly placed in the best glass Sebastian could find. It rested nearby him, neatly positioned to make it look fuller and beautiful. Of course, he wouldn't sell it. For as much as he teased you, he could not deny the fondness he felt when he looked at it.

Perhaps one day, you'd take the bouquet place and be right next to him yourself.

He cursed himself as his ears and tail twitched at the thought.

☆⠀⠀⠀ᛝ⠀⠀want to support my stuff? my kofi is here !⠀♡

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Something's Changed

Summary: Logan Howlett x Fe!Reader -> Something changed when you and Logan kissed. Did it change for the better?

Disclaimer: Fluff, angst, kissing, steam/illusions to sex, best friends to lovers vibes. Mentions of cheating (not reader or Logan -- a client of reader as reader is mentioned to be a PI). First kiss = fake dating...sorta. Some swearing. Not Proof Read.

Something changed when you kissed Logan. Or, maybe it was when he kissed you. Either way, something had changed. 

Only, neither of you wanted to admit it. 

“Hey, is everything okay between you and Logan? Usually you’re joined at the hip but I…I haven’t seen you both together for a while.” Jean asked as she spotted you in the kitchen as she poured herself some coffee. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Why?” You popped another grape into your mouth, praying she’d drop her question. 

Jean looked you over. You could only thank your mutation that you could block her ability to read your mind. 

“Are you sure?”

To Jean, you looked a little dazed as you nodded your head and walked towards the door. “Yep. Everything’s perfect.”

Everything’s perfect. 

Everything’s perfect?

Everything was perfect. 

Until you kissed. 

Turning down the hallway, you made your way towards your classroom but not before stalling at the door. From down the hall, Logan had turned the corner, looking up from the open History Essay books in his arms. 

Jean watched from the kitchen door as you and Logan stopped in your tracks and had a broken connection of a conversation before sheepishly escaping into your assigned classrooms. 

Something had been different between you both for three weeks. One morning, like every morning, she had watched you and Logan at the breakfast table. Eating. Talking. Laughing. 

When Logan had first come to the school, the first time Jean had ever seen Logan laugh – truly laugh – was with you. 

Ever since, until three weeks ago, you had been inseparable. 

So what had happened?

It was the next day when a second person questioned you about what had happened, but since she didn’t get the answers she wanted, she turned to interrogate the only other person who could give her an actual answer. 

“Okay, what happened?”

Logan looked up from his marking to see Rogue plant herself in the chair opposite his desk. 

“Shouldn’t you be studying?”

Rogue smiled. “I graduated last year, remember?”

“Then don’t you have college to deal with?”

She shook her head. “Not until next week. All assignments are in. I’m as free as a bird.”

“Then go and…peck at someone else. I’ve got work to do.”

Rogue nodded with a smile, kicking her feet up onto the corner of Logan’s desk. “I could always help.”

Stopping his marking, his pen hovering above the page, Logan finally looked up at Rogue and found her looking…too happy at him. 

“What do you want?”

Rogue waited for a moment, wondering if he actually wanted to know. But she knew him. The quicker he got through her question, the quicker he could be left alone. 

“I want to know what happened. Between you and Y/n.”

Logan’s face dropped and he turned back to his work. “Nothing happened.”

“I’d beg to differ.”

“You’d beg to differ?” 

Rogue shrugged. “My Professors are English. But, yes. I’d beg to differ. You two were inseparable. So what happened? You’ve been sulking around here for weeks.”

“I don’t sulk.”

“You sulk.”

“And nothing happened.” Logan repeated. “Why not go and ask her?”

“I already did. She told me to come here.”

Logan looked back up. “She did?”

Rogue couldn’t hide her smirk. God, he was so smitten with you. 

“Not in so many words.”

“In how many words exactly?”

Rogue shrugged. “It’s besides the point. Something has happened and I want to know what.”

Logan sighed. “Nothing happened. But I am busy so…” Logan waved his hand at her for her to leave, but she only sat up in her chair and leaned in. 

“Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?” Logan asked, without looking up. 

“That you love her.”

That got his attention. 

“It’s okay.” Rogue assured him. “Everyone knows. Well, mostly everyone. The students know, and the Professor-”

“I’m not in love with her.”

Rogue sighed. Was he really going to be in denial? 

“Logan,” Rogue began. “You look at her like she hung the moon. You spend practically every waking minute with her, and some sleeping. Yes, I was the one to cover you both up with a blanket. You’re welcome. You know her like the back of your hand. Better yet, you know each other better than anyone knows either of you. I know you get up early every morning to make her coffee-”

“Okay, okay, okay. Those things might be true. But that doesn’t mean I’m in love with her.”

“Then why did you kiss her?”

Logan practically stood to attention. “She told you that?”

Logan watched as Rogue remained seated and smiled up at him. “No. But you just did.”

She was a little minx. 

“Look, truth be told. I don’t know what happened. But now that I know that you both kissed…”

Logan swallowed thickly and steadied himself on his desk. “We did-We didn’t kiss.”

Rogue smiled as she stood. “Sure. But, Logan. If I were you, I’d talk to her. And once you’ve done that, talk to me. I want to know all the details.”

Rogue left with just a smile and no other words. Meanwhile, Logan felt like he’d been put into a boxing ring, was sent to the floor, poured into a broken washing machine and yanked between two sharp pegs on a frayed washing line. 

He sat himself down. 

If you weren’t going to be the death of him, Rogue definitely was. 

In your room, you lay on your bed, a pillow against your chest. Ever since classes ended, you had been in your room, hugging your pillow, staring at the ceiling, replaying the thing that changed you and Logan seemingly for good. 

You’d been tasked with following a suspect. It wasn’t anything too elaborate. Except, half way through your day, you had found you had a tail of your own. Logan. Apparently he’d been following you around the city in case something would have happened and you needed back up. 

“What if you get caught?”

“Logan,” you sighed. “I’ve been a PI for over a decade. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“Still, I’m coming with you.”

“Logan, he’s suspected of cheating. His wife needs evidence if she’s going to divorce him. It’s not like I’m following the head of a mob or something.”

Logan shrugged. “He could be the head of a mob.”

You didn’t look impressed. “He’s an accountant from Minnesota.”

“Still could be the head of a mob.”

He wasn’t going to leave.

“Nope.” 

You didn’t even ask, but he answered anyway. 

“Fine. You can stay, just…don’t go all Wolverine on me.”

Logan followed you. “You say that as if it happens all the time.”

“Logan, a guy asked me out at the grocery last week and you punctured a bag of rice.”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed at the reminder, all the while his hand came to the bottom of your back as he helped you through the busy street. “He was getting too close for comfort. And who asks someone out in the grocery store anyway! He didn’t even know you!”

You and Logan followed your maybe-head-of-a-mob accountant from Minnesota around all day. And until then it had been mostly coffee runs, business meetings in tall buildings with high offices and quick lunches at the cafe on the corner of the street. 

Until he decided to take a detour. A text from your client let you know he had told her he had a business meeting run over late, so he’d miss dinner. 

“Doesn’t look like he’s in a business meeting.” 

So, you and Logan followed. 

Except, once you had both gotten out of your car, there was nowhere in particular either of you could hide. The street was a small town street, quiet enough to alert everyone that someone new was in town. 

And with Logan being…well, Logan. It meant a lot of eyes were on both of you. Two strangers in a small town, who seemed to be taking the exact same walking turns as the man, who a few seemed to recognise, in front of you. 

It was only as you and Logan slowed your paces that you realised he had taken hold of your hand. 

“Stay close to me.”

You did as he said. The more you both looked like a couple, maybe the less stares you’d get as you walked down the street towards-

“Come here.”

Logan pulled you in close to him as you both disappeared into the darkness of a small alleyway. 

“Logan, what are you-”

“Shush.”

He seemed to be focusing on something. His hearing. 

“What is it?”

After a few moments, he finally told you. “Phone call. He’s meeting up with a woman called Sandra.”

“Sandra’s his co-worker.”

A little more following and you and Logan came to a stop by a motel. 

“Well, this doesn’t look like the place to have an affair at all.”

As you stood on the corner, hidden behind the sharp edges of a brick wall, you snapped a few shots of him leaving his car, meeting Sandra by the door, sharing a kiss and- shit. He was turning back. 

“Oh, shit.”

You had moved down the street to get some clearer shots. Only, now his car was practically parallel to where you and Logan were standing. 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

“What do we do?”

Logan might have been able to run fast enough to get back to the main street, but you couldn’t. And it would have looked too suspicious to be moving that fast away from an already suspicious meeting. 

He was getting closer. 

Apart from the buzzing of the lights close by, you could hear his dress shoes against the gravel getting closer and closer. 

You looked up at Logan. “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.”

Logan seemed frozen in place. 

The shoes were getting closer. 

With slight panic, you let out a small groan followed by a quick, “I’m sorry.” Placing your hand at the back of his head, you pulled him down to kiss him. And, for a moment, he was rigid. Stuck on the spot. Frozen in time. 

It didn’t have to be a good kiss. The darkness you both were in covered you enough so that, just sharing a crappy kiss with your best friend saved both of your asses from the guy who was fast approaching. 

Except it wasn’t crappy. 

Not after that split second moment. 

Because you found Logan kissing you back. 

He shocked you at first, but then…you wanted more. You didn’t want him to stop. His hands pushing through your loose hair, his body coming closer to yours, his arm around your waist,  your own hand in his hair, down his neck, your desperation for breath. 

Neither of you had noticed the man stall on the gravel when he saw you both. Quickly, he made his way to his car to take out the box of condoms from the glove compartment before locking his car and hurrying his way back towards his motel room. 

And somehow in that space of time, you and Logan had stopped. Both of your chests begging for breath, his hands still like fire against your skin. The kind you never wanted to put out. 

“I…” your voice shook. “I think that worked.”

“I think it worked, too.”

You heard yourself apologise to him, for kissing him. It might have just been the best kiss of your life, and you heard yourself apologise to him. Then everything came back into focus. You had just shared the best kiss of your life with Logan. Your best friend. Your partner. Your person. 

“I think I’ve got enough evidence. We…we should…”

Logan stepped away from you and you heard your inner voice yell for him to step back into you. 

“We should go.” Logan finished your sentence. 

Nodding, you led the way back to the car. 

The journey back was…silent. No talking. No laughing. Nothing but the awkward readjustment of seating every now and again and silence. 

And nothing had been the same since. 

One kiss and suddenly you were…no longer Y/n and Logan. You were Y/n. And Logan. 

Opening your eyes, you turned your head and looked outside. You must have been daydreaming for so long, you fell asleep. The moon was out, hanging bright in the sky, surrounded by a blanket of stars that no doubt were being tracked by the small astrological society that had been set up in the school. 

Turning to look at your desk, you found the time. 

Just a little before midnight. 

You had missed dinner. And as if on cue, your stomach growled. 

So, after changing into your pyjamas and pulling your hair back, you slipped your feet into the warmest socks you could find and made your way downstairs and towards the kitchen. Everywhere was dark, save for the kitchen light which remained on. 

“Hello?” You called out. ‘Lights out’ had been called out hours ago. No student should be up this late. 

“Please don’t yell.” 

Walking a little further into the kitchen, you found Bobby sitting at a small table with a bowl of cereal, the milk and box still by him. 

With a tired smile, you shook your head and reached for a bowl in the top cupboard. 

“You’re not a student here anymore, Bobby. You can’t get in trouble for staying up this late.”

Bobby chuckled a little. “I know. Sometimes it just feels…like I never left.”

Joining him, you poured some cereal into your own bowl, followed by the milk. Once you’d placed the milk back in the fridge, you reached into the draw to grab a spoon and sat down across from him. 

“Still plenty of change around here.”

“Like you and Logan?”

You hadn’t even taken your first bite. 

Bobby held back a laugh. “Sorry. Rogue told me something happened. Did something happen?”

Sighing, you pulled your legs under the table and pushed the cereal deeper into the milk. 

“One of my professor’s told me sometimes it’s better to say it out loud so it doesn’t feel so big. No one else is awake. And you know Rogue will only keep pestering you.”

Your eyes narrowed a little looking at Bobby. “Did she-”

Quickly, he shook his head. “No. Not at all. You just…you look like you need to talk to someone.”

It was true. You did need to talk to someone. 

“Usually I’d talk to Logan,” you admitted. 

“But you had a fight?”

You shook your head, chewing your food before swallowing. “No. The complete opposite…sorta.”

“Then what happened?”

You hesitated for a moment. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone?”

Bobby nodded. “Patient-Doctor confidentiality.”

You smiled a little at that. He wasn’t a doctor yet but the fact he still treated the situation as such was a good sign. Especially considering Rogue could get a lot of information out of him, or anyone for that matter. 

“Well, we…we kissed.” 

You waited for Bobby’s reaction. But it never came, until…

“Finally.” He turned back to eating as if nothing had been said. 

“Finally?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “We’ve all been waiting for you and Logan to finally do something for years.”

“Bobby!”

“What? Oh, come on. You two are practically soulmates. You spend every waking hour together, and some sleeping. I know Rogue has caught you both asleep on the sofa together a couple of times because she never shuts up about it. You only really trust each other. And, with that, you both won the couple’s round last game night and neither of you were playing.”

That was true. 

You and Logan, being the single ones out of the adults, had sat out of the round but whilst sat by the desk under the window, you both stated aloud what the other person would have chosen whilst some of the couples struggled with finding an answer. 

Logan kept score on a piece of paper, but Rogue had been keeping her own’ later declaring that night that yourself and Logan had won. 

Shaking your head to bring yourself back to the present, you looked at Bobby. “Look, we kissed and…we haven’t spoken since.”

“Was it a good kiss?”

You made a face at Bobby but he just shrugged, so with a roll of your eyes you turned back to your cereal. “Yes. No. Maybe? Yes, yes. Okay. Yes, it was a good kiss.”

“And would you like to kiss him again?”

“Are you even allowed to ask these questions?”

Bobby smiled, taking another bite of his cereal. “That’s not a no.”

You pointed your spoon at him. “If you tell anyone this, I’ll kill you.”

“Okay, but when Rogue finds out I knew first, there might be a line.”

The next couple of minutes were spent in silence as you both ate until Bobby was close to finishing and crossed his arms. “Do you love him?”

You almost dropped your spoon as you looked up. “What?”

“Do. You, Love, Him?” 

Your conscious and subconscious both screamed “YES” but your mouth didn’t move. 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

Bobby sat back. “It’s got everything to do with it. Clearly, you want to kiss him again. And, even more clearly, you’re in love with him so-”

“Now, wait a minute.”

“It’s got everything to do with it. You and Logan have been around each other for so long, you don’t know where else to go in fear of something changing. But, you should know – things have already changed.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Oh, I know you know it.” Bobby finished off his cereal. “But I think you need to accept it. Even if you’re scared of something changing, you should talk to him. Things have already changed and they could go back to how they were before, but I have a feeling they might just change for the better. You should let yourself believe that; that it’s changed for the better.”

Changed for the better. 

Changed for the better. 

Changed for the better?

Those four words echoed over and over in your head as you sat in the kitchen alone, as you washed your dishes, as you walked around the school, as you walked upstairs and into your bathroom and as you laid down in bed and fell asleep. 

Logan was your best friend. You never wanted to lose him, under any circumstances. But if the last four weeks had been anything to go by, things definitely hadn’t changed for the better. 

Another two weeks went by and you had somehow seen less of Logan in those two weeks than you had done in the four weeks beforehand. 

Until you were assigned a new classroom. A joint lesson was going to be taught. Who your fellow teacher was going to be, you didn’t know. Until they walked in through the door, stalled at the entrance, found just over two dozen pairs of eyes watching him and made his way to the desk to your right at the front of the classroom. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Neither you or Logan had ever been this awkward. 

“I didn’t know it was you I was…partnered with.” Logan blurted out. 

“Xavier probably picked this last semester.” You replied. 

Then you just looked at each other. This was the longest conversation you’d both held for six weeks. 

“Here are the books you wanted.” The student you had sent out to the supply closet came fumbling back in through the doors carrying a high stack of exercise books. Rushing over, you took them from their arms. 

“Thank you.”

Handing half to Logan, you started handing them out and the lesson began. 

At first it was a little more than awkward but once things got settled, everything…started going back to normal. 

Almost. 

You and Logan were communicating with each other, and helping your students. But for a split second, every time you looked at him, you felt your mind wander back to the kiss and you felt a need to be near to him, close to him. But then the last six weeks crashed through your mind. No talking, no laughing, no late nights marking work and inevitably falling asleep. 

No friendship. No relationship. No partnership. 

Nothing. 

Then your gut seemed to punch itself and your heart as you turned and looked at some other corner of the classroom. 

Yet, once class was over, you found yourself and Logan talking. It felt unsteady, but at least it was something. Then he asked if you’d want to mark the essays written with him. 

“Twice the people, half the work? Plus, we don’t have to run and find each other to check over the work later on.”

He made a reasonable request. 

“Okay. But we’re getting food first. I’m starving.”

“I’ll make you grilled cheese. Scott did the cooking last night. You didn’t miss much.”

You groaned. “Not that bean casserole savoury thing again.”

“There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want them.”

With a grimace look, you shook your head. “No, no. Grilled cheese, grilled cheese, grilled cheese. Please.”

Logan laughed. 

“If I have to even smell that unholy casserole again, I think I might actually puke. Who even allowed him back on the rota for cooking?”

Logan met you by the door. “Apparently he was getting suspicious over why he hadn’t cooked for so long.”

You followed Logan towards the kitchen. “I’ll tell him why. Because that dish is god-awful. It tastes crap, it’s got a weird texture. You spend more time trying to decipher what beans he’s used than you do actually eating the thing. It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it.”

Logan chuckled as you both entered the kitchen. “Then sit down and I’ll make you grilled cheese.”

“Thank you.”

As you started marking the first few books, Logan got to work making your dinner and before long he was sitting beside you, handing you your plate and he placed his own to the side before swiping some books from your pile.  

For the most part, you both sat in silence eating your grilled cheeses, marking essays and deciphering between student’s handwriting. 

Before either of you knew it, the night was drawing in and you found yourself half sleeping at the kitchen table. 

“Come on,” Logan finally announced. “We can finish these tomorrow.”

After shutting his own books, he shut yours. Then, standing, he pulled out your chair and took your hand despite how much you protested you weren’t tired. 

“That’s the fifth yawn in three minutes. Come with me, I’ll walk you up.”

And he did. 

Both of you carrying your books in your arms up the stairs, Logan walked you to your door. 

“I’m sorry.” Logan blurted out. 

Slightly taken aback, you looked up. “Sorry about what-”

“I’m sorry if I took it too far…that night. And I’m sorry it’s been weird between us ever since. You were just trying to-”

“Logan, I kissed you.” You told him. “I should be the one that’s sorry. I didn’t give you any warning and I shouldn’t have even asked you to begin with. You’re my best friend, Logan. If I knew it would cause this,” you gestured between the pair of you. “Then I wouldn’t have done it. I care about you, Logan. A lot more than I care about getting caught by a cheating husband who’s soon-to-be-ex-wife hired me.”

After a moment, Logan let out a small laugh.

With an exasperated sigh, you finally found the courage to let his features become clear when you looked at him. “Can we just go back? To how they were before, at least? Before the awkwardness and the silence and the…everything. I miss you, Logan.”

With a light smile, Logan nodded. “I’ve missed you, too.”

It was like a weight off your chest. He was back. You and Logan were back. 

Putting down your pile of books on the floor, Logan was quick to do the same before your arms wrapped around him. With his arms around you, for the first time in weeks, you felt home again. 

His body heat warmed you in a way no blanket or hoodie ever could. The scent of him and his aftershave comforted you in now way your favourite candle could on a rainy day with nothing to do other than relax. The sound of his voice was more like music to your ears than any of your favourite songs were. The pressure from beneath his grip on both you and your heart made you feel more alive than anything else had ever done. 

Logan was your home. Your true home. 

Feeling your feet back on the ground once more, you let your arms slide down the length of Logan’s shoulders and arms, all the while you felt his own hands trace around your back until they found a safe space between your hips and waist. 

With your heads still so close together, you could hear Logan’s breathing getting louder. Or maybe that was your own? When did he- it. When did it get so hot? 

Kiss me, your heart told you. Kiss him, your gut said. 

“L…Logan…”

Feeling his nose brush yours for an instant, Logan tried his best to control himself. He’d only just gotten you back. You might be the love of his life, but he didn’t want that to be the reason he lost you again. 

“We shouldn’t do this.” He eventually forced out of himself. 

But then you countered with a demand even he couldn’t refuse.

“Kiss me.”

Looking him in the eyes, you said it again.

“Kiss me-”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence because his hands were holding your face, kissing you as if it was his last moment on earth. 

Walking you backwards a little until your back hit the wall of the small angle between your bedroom door and the hallway, you felt your heel kick over the pile of books on the floor, sending them falling from their neat stack to a heap on the floor. 

Somehow everything you had imagined about being kissed by Logan again failed to meet the expectation of the real thing. Logan fit you. And you fitted him. 

Despite your history, his lips against yours didn’t feel foreign or awkward or terrible at all. In fact, it was almost familiar. As if you’d been kissed by him your entire life. As if you’d kissed him in a past life. As if this would be the first of many. 

Of course, it felt new and slightly surprising. But there was a comfort in being kissed by him. In having his hands be the one to touch your body in places it hadn’t before. In having your space be crowded by him and him alone. 

Pushing against him a little, he allowed you leeway to do so. Your hand fumbled until you found your door handle and pushed it open. From behind him, Logan kicked it shut before he felt his back against it. But not for long. 

Lifting you up and hearing a small squeal come from the back of your throat, Logan felt your legs around his hips as your back came against the door. Pressing into you, Logan smirked a little as he took your hands in his own, pinning them beside your head as he began to leave small love bites across your jaw and down your neck. 

Slowly, he trailed his hands down your arms before they secured themselves under you to hold you up as he left another mark by your collar bone before you pulled his head back up so he could kiss you properly once again. 

“Tell me where.”

“The bed. Now.”

With a slight laugh, Logan carried you over to the bed and dropped you by the edge. Scanning up his body and you smiled before pulling him in by the hem of his t-shirt until he was almost laying on top of you before you helped remove his shirt. 

A few hours later, you both lay in each other's arms, talking and laughing together. 

“We need to move the books.”

Logan pulled you back into bed, almost pinning you down with his body. “The books will be fine.”

“What if the students find them? What if someone thinks we’re in here together.”

“We are in here together.”

You scoffed a little as you tried to get up again, but to no avail. “You know what I mean.”

“Sweetheart, the books will still be there in a couple of hours. And no students come up onto this floor anyway.”

“Clearly you’ve never met Rogue.”

Logan laughed at that. “Fine, you can move the books.”

Quickly kissing him, you thanked him and escaped from his grasp. Rolling onto his back and placing an arm behind his head, Logan watched you tie a robe around your body before slowly opening up the door and bringing in the stack of books and placing them in the plastic box behind the door and snapping the lid shut. 

You also locked the door behind you. Something you and Logan had forgotten to do the first two times around. 

Not hiding the fact he was checking you out, Logan smiled as you walked over to him and repositioned himself to pull you across his lap. Sitting up, Logan looked at you in a way nobody had ever looked at you before. 

Like you hung the moon and the stars. 

Little did you know, you had the exact same expression on your face as you looked at him. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Logan.”

Logan laughed a little, seeing the blush creep up on your face. “I mean it. You’re beautiful. Not only,” he kissed your lips. “Here. But also,” he pressed a kiss above your heart. “Here, too.”

Then he looked back into your eyes. 

“I’m in love with you.”

A little shocked at first, your hands slid to the back of his neck and you studied his face for a moment. The expression never changed. His heartbeat was steady, even if a little faster than usual. 

Then he watched as you stopped studying him and broke into a smile. “You’re in love with me?”

“I think I have been for a long time. I’m sorry it took so long for me to admit it-”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Logan’s head tilted slightly as he smiled. “You are?”

You nodded and hummed a happy response. “I am.”

With a smile, Logan kissed you again, this time pushing himself to his knees and you towards your back. Smiling into the kiss, your hand linked behind his neck as you said his name in playful warning. 

“What are you doing?” You almost laughed, looking at him as you got comfortable underneath him. 

Still smiling at you, Logan’s hand trailed down your thigh that was hooked at his hip whilst his own lips came down to meet yours. 

“Making up for lost time.”

Kissing you, your own hands roamed his body as one hand trailed across your skin and the other slowly unravelled the loose knot from around your middle, letting the light robe fall from your skin. 

Something had definitely changed when you kissed Logan Howlett. But they had definitely changed for the better. 

[rqnarok]

LINGER | 4,3k

old man!logan x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Being another mutant who survived Charles’ seizures, you are forced to live alongside Logan. The things between you and Logan goes on and off, fragile and indefinite—yet it always lingers.

TAGS AND WARNINGS: smut, mdni! mentions of blood, death, and grief (not logan), lots of angst but lots of fluff too, old man!logan x mutant!reader but unspecified mutation so it’s up to you! minor injuries, nightmares, miscommunication, kind of slow burning (?), pining, logan calls himself ‘old man’ several times, petnames, reader being called ‘kid’ by logan, unrequited love but actually requited (just angst all over…), logan howlett is bad at feelings, love confessions, virgin!reader, dirty talk, praise kink, p with little plot, fingering (f receiving), insecure!reader and insecure!logan, logan loves reader, unprotected p in v.

NOTES: not proofread! bello! ‘m not new to writing but new to writing fan fictions hehe! old man!logan is kinda my everything and this fic is kindaaaa self indulgent. listened to “linger” by the cranberries while writing this :0 feel free to send reqs and feedback to my inbox. this was mere my writing practice and my attempt to gain motivation in life. oh, sorry for the spelling and grammar mistakes, eng is not my first language! hope this isn’t my first and last fic.. see u all <3 or not....:p

'Shamed what happened back in the East. 

A saying you heard but don’t know where. Even who said it. Still, you remember all of it—their cries of death, their pain, their suffering. 

A haunting vivid memory in X-Mansion, where all of your friends are lying on the ground, in pain—and you could not do anything. You just watched. In pain, too. There was a thought which you think that it was the end. You were already accepting it with open arms, welcoming your exit.

Then your mutation saved you from your fate. Your survival, at the price of grief. 

“You’re doing it again.” 

Jolted by his comment, you dart your eyes away from the road and into your lap. “Do what?” You mutter quietly, not sure if he even hears it. 

But he always does. “Never mind.” Logan sighs in the damp air. You both know it is better not to talk about what exactly happened back then. Talking is not what you two are best at either. “I asked you a question earlier, you hungry?” 

“A little, yeah. Yeah.” Your gaze sways to his driving figure: how his right hand grips the steering wheel way too tightly, how his soft blue shirt is all wrinkled, how his tired eyes look with those heavy eye bags, and the grey hairs all over his untrimmed beard. He looks worn out. But so are you.

The two of you have been doing this for God knows how long. Wandering from one place to the other with Charles in the backseat. Looking for a place to settle but not really looking for it either. It’s simply a suicide travel. 

He makes a turn towards a cheap-looking diner on your left. 

Northern Mexico. 

A place where you both decided to settle indefinitely. Alongside Charles, who lives in the abandoned smelting plant not so far away. Logan takes up a job as a limo driver in El Paso and every time you tell him you don’t want him to be so far away during the daytime, he always says: One of us has to earn the money, kid.

Kid. 

To this day, after time living together, you aren’t sure of the nature of the relationship between you and Logan. Companions? Friends? Strangers?

Well, one thing you are sure of is you are not his adopted child and he does not see you in that way, either. He sees you in the same way he sees Charles, as his responsibility. 

Before all this, you were aware of him: what he looked like, his mutation, his reputation. But you do not know him personally. You passed him once or twice in the hallways after your studies. That was it. 

All of a sudden, he’s all you have. The only other sane mutant you are fully sure, survived Charles’ seizure. Still, you two weren’t friends before and sure aren’t friends now. In this shared house, you and Logan are strangers—forced to live together on the sole base of sentimentality.

Deep down, you know there is something more. Something vulnerable, down there. Something fragile. There are moments like where-

Your thoughts are frozen by the sudden creaking sound of the front door. The sight of Logan all bloody and bruised entered your wandering vision. The book you were reading is now abandoned as you get up from the comfortable sofa. 

“W-what happened?” Rushing into him with quick movements, this is not the first time he returns all beaten up but it is still a blow to you every single time. You can’t stand the thought of losing another person in your life, even if you convince yourself that he is a mere stranger. 

His white shirt has reds in many parts, and he’s bleeding all over the house, “Some fuckin’ kids tried to mess up with the limo. F-fuck.” With the blood smeared all over his hand, he managed to get into the shared bathroom, his breath coming out short. 

“Wait!” You rushed to his figure with an aid kit in your trembling hands. He slouched forward, cursing himself. Gently, you wrap your arms around him before he falls and help him lean his back on the white tiles behind. 

He shakily opened the buttons of his shirt and you could see everything. While you grab all you need and start cleaning his wounds, he looks at you with his half-lidded eyes. The intense gaze that always makes you want to shy away from him—you are not so sure why. 

After a while, you kneel beside him and break eye contact, “Did you kill them?” you question him carefully as you tread his wounds. Not sure how he would answer tonight. 

Logan grunts when you touch one of his nasty wounds, still looking at you,  “No. But you should see them.” 

You feel uncomfortable at his reply, retreating your hands and facing the mirror, looking down at the sink, “I don’t want to see them, Logan.” At some point, as you search around for more supplies to treat his injuries that still haven’t healed by his mutation, you break down crying. Out of your realisation, you have been holding back your worries and sobs since you saw him. 

Logan, who notices this, pulls you abruptly into him and seats you on one of his thighs. “Hey, hey, why y’crying huh? Hm?” 

You hate this. You hate how you suddenly cry at the sight of him, at the reminder that this is all finite. His big calloused hand starts rubbing up and down your back, gently shushing you. You hate how he knows you all too well by now. 

“I told you to stop doing the job. I-I told you that this… this would happen. I’m always scared. I thought— ” You let out one big sob or whimper, you’re not so sure. Not when he’s cradling you in his arms like this. “You can’t heal like you used to, you can’t barely–”

“Hey, shh, pretty girl,” Pretty girl. You blush at that. “I’m here with you now, aren’t I? That’s all that matters.” He shushed you oh, so tenderly. Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. Logan forces himself to smile, “Aren’t I? Come on, feel me up.” Logan sits you up straight on his lap. 

He always does this. Giving out, you delicately place both of your hands on the sides of his face, feeling him up. He watches you brush around his greying beard while holding your waist in place, drawing circles on your skin. “There ‘ya go. I’m here.”

When you feel calm down and tired, you rest your heavy head on his shoulders, “Maybe I should take a turn going to town–” 

He cuts you off while lifting your chin, forcing you to look at him right in the eyes that you were trying so hard to dodge. Without him saying any words, you know he is saying no. Your assumption is confirmed when he shakes his head slightly, looking down at you sternly. 

“It’s just me and you, Logan.” You say meekly and defeatedly. 

“Exactly. That's why it’s gotta be me, baby.” 

Moments later, you continue mending his cuts. And moments after that, you’re both lying together on the bed. Holding each other in slumber. Your head on his chest, his hands on your back. 

Through these delicate moments, you know him. That he is not simply a stranger to you. That this means something more. 

But he does not talk about those moments. Which makes you feel like your perspective is an illusion that you made by yourself, untrue. A false memory that you created in your head because you do feel something for him. 

In the morning, you wake up alone. Logan is nowhere to be seen around the room. Only traces of his scent are left on the white sheets wrapping around your figure. 

When you open the bedroom door, there he is. Sitting on the kitchen chair, his slouched back facing you while he sips on his black coffee which he secretly hates. He likes the coffees that you frequently make for him more. You don’t know that. He never told you. 

“Logan?” you call out to him. But he didn’t budge away from reading the newspaper. As if you weren’t there at all. As if moments like last night never happened. As if it’s true that you are merely a responsibility to him. A burden, even. You hang your head low at his ignorance and retreat to your room.

Such a paradox could live inside a man like him. 

Other moments happened too. One afternoon, his phone suddenly rings while he is out visiting Charles. With all the self-control you have, you try to ignore it, ignore everything that connects to him because it upsets you. But your curiosity gets ahead of your mind and you pick his phone up. 

“Hello?” you place the thing on the side of your left ear. No sound, nothing, nada. Before you know it, you feel a presence behind you and Logan is looking down at you with that look again. 

Snatching his phone away from you, not so gently, he mutters, “How many times do I have to tell you not to touch my stuff, huh?” The way he remarks and the way he looks at you makes you feel small and embarrassed. These are the moments where he is not going to cradle you in his arms–you know that. 

Your eyes darted to the floor. The lines on the wood oak floor suddenly seemed very interesting, “I’m- Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. So I thought–” 

“You thought? What? You have the right to?” Logan cuts you off before you finish your poor excuse of explanation. “You have your own pile of shit and I have mine. Stay out of my shit. You understand?” 

Sometimes there are sparks of rage inside of you that make you gain bits of confidence, “Well, we technically live in the same place, so–” 

Though, Logan quickly dims off that spirit by not letting you finish, “Understand?”

You limit yourself to a nod in agreement because you don’t trust your voice. Confusion often fills up your body to the brim. These are the moments you hate. How he treats you differently at one time and another. You hate how he makes you so weak. You hate how he has you wrapped around his fingers. You hate that you don’t have the same effect on him. 

“It’s not your fault, darling.” Charles reasons you one time when you visit him for weekly check-ups. “That man has issues! Even after all these years, I still could not fully understand him and his... complexities.” You force your lips to quirk up a little and pretend as if you justify that, too. But you're in so deep.

Weeks after weeks, it went on like that. You, confused. Logan, indifferent all the time. You miss his touches. Was it just a game to him?

Paralyzed, the color red clouded your vision. You see bodies lying everywhere, dead bodies. The room smells like dread. With what is left, your power manages to slow down the pain that rushes in you. Protect you from the incursion. 

Here, there is no way to hide. Their cries echo through the halls. Their screams still haunt you. 

If you could have saved yourself, you could have saved them too. But you watched them die.

You watched them die. 

You watched them die. 

Inside the dark of your room, you did not realize that you had been thrashing and screaming in your sleep. The nightmare came to you again. Grief shows through in the form of tears, flowing into your cheeks as you open your eyes in fear, “I let them die, I let them die, I let them die–” 

“Sweetheart?” a voice comes from outside your room. Near but so far away.

You kept repeating those words until a figure finally came up in front of you, Logan. He calls out your name, “Hey, no, no–” Now he is touching you all over, trying to stop you from moving rapidly and hurting yourself in the process. Sitting you in front of him and making you face him. Closing your eyes for a brief second, your chest heaving up and down, you remember again and you panic, “I-I watched them die–” your voice wavers. 

“No, shh, keep those eyes open. You’re okay. I’m here.” His hands hold your face and his thumb brush off some of the hair in your wet cheeks. 

“I could’ve saved them. They were dying, they were in pain–” You cry out as the scene on that day played out again. Daunting and haunting you without your consent. Always lingering around on the back of your neck. Only one person knows what it feels like.

Logan’s eyes soften while he remembers that bitter memory too, “So were you,” His voice coaks out, soothing you, “So were you. ‘s not your responsibility.”

At this, you put your arms around his neck and grip him tightly, finally comprehending what is happening. “Calm down, baby. Logan’s here. ‘M not leaving.” He hushed you back to your senses. 

After minutes of him comforting you in silence, his eyes dart to your bleeding lips which you bite to stifle your sobs. With much surprise, Logan parts them and caresses them. Looking at them then back at your eyes, then at your lips again. Your foreheads are now touching and you find yourself nose-to-nose to him.

In your chest, your heart beats so loudly that you fear he may actually hear it. Then with that look that he gives you again, every logical thought and pride you were trying to build, collapses inside you, making you putty in his arms. As you always do. 

But tonight, something more is happening, “Logan.” You managed to call out his name in a whisper, begging for something. He feels the same way too, “I know, baby. I know.”

Logan scans your face, searching for any signs of discomfort as he starts to kiss each one of your cheeks. He tells himself repeatedly in his mind, “No, not her. Anyone but her, you dipshit. You’ll lose her if you do this.” A belief that he has been telling himself every day.

What you don’t know about Logan, after all this time, is how he is afraid that if he touches you, if he shows you his feelings, you will be gone from this world. If he cares about you, he will lose you. He is in fear that the cruel world will take you away. As it always does to people he cared.

Bad shit happens to people I care about. And he managed to hold onto this thinking and compose himself every time.

Until now. 

Your whimpers and pleads get to him–he cannot hold back anymore, he doesn’t want to hold back anymore. He peppers your face with kisses, everywhere but where you need him the most, your lips. “L-Logan…” you feel your face getting hotter every moment. “Ah, p-please–”, you greedily grind your lower body onto his thighs. 

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He groans while breathing all over your face, “You have no idea what I would do to you, the shit I’d do for you.” One of his hands gets under your nightgown and he succeeds in squeezing your tit. “Ah!” you squeak in surprise and quickly get embarrassed when he chuckles at the noises you make. 

When your gaze meets him, the force can no longer be stopped. What you both try to bury deep down, what you two were locking away in a box, is bolting itself abruptly. The thumps of his heart match yours. There is no going back now.

While breaking a promise, he makes a new promise to himself: that he’d protect you before all the bad shit happens. He will not let any of it get to you. 

After a brief staring contest and lingering doubts, he loses himself, mutters ‘Fuck this shit’ under his breath, and locks his lips on yours, melting you completely into his embrace. You gasp into his mouth and tighten your hug around him. His tongue finds yours sensually as he cradles your head to deepen the kiss. It was the first time he kissed you. 

“It’s just you and me, kid.” He blurted out against your mouth and you could not conceal your smile. Whatever you both were trying to suppress, it’s now roaming free in liberation. 

His mouth grins at your reaction and before he can stop himself, he confesses, “‘M sorry for how I acted these days. This old man was so fuckin’ afraid of how things would turn out.” 

You were about to say it’s okay but he continues, “But he will try his best from now on. What d’ya think? Hm?” Logan looks over at you hesitantly, afraid of what you’d reply. His ‘confession’ does sound way better in his head, when he practiced beforehand. You didn’t know that, of course. 

A giggle went out of your lips, “I think I’d like that.” you say breathlessly before kissing him again. 

Our brain is meant to be effective. It is not designed to be right at all times. Well, sometimes we are right, but we experience the wrongs more. What we thought we knew, we don’t. What we thought we didn't know–maybe we do. Especially about another person and their feelings. Similar to what you thought Logan Howlett feels. 

Following that night, things had changed between the both of you. The ‘boundaries’ separating you two are torn into pieces, in a good way. Now you are reminded by the nature of your relationship through everything. When he comes back home to you every day, when he puts his arms around you while you are cooking dinner, when he kisses the crown of your head before sleeping, when he fixes your favorite kitchen chair, and many other whens. 

Including now, when he kisses you so roughly and gently at the same time, fueled by the desire he kept while he was still stubborn back. Logan hiked up your dress until he could feel your breasts, pinching one nipple.  “Missed you– missed you so much today.” He says while kissing down between your chest and your stomach, “Missed this,” somewhere in between. You are not so sure. 

“Tell me, did you miss me too, Little Missy?” Logan, who is kneeling before, tilts his head upwards so he can see your face. You cover your blushing face, shying away from him and his question like you are used to, “You know the answer.”

He picks you up from the kitchen with one hand and puts you down on your shared bed, “Oh, you don’t wanna say it?” You shake your head in an attempt to tease him. Lying down on your back and with parted legs, you can feel his rough beard while he kisses your inner thigh. “Aight' then, we may just see it.” 

By seeing it, he means ripping your white underwear, the one you adored the most and has a pink ribbon, “Shh. I’ll buy you another one.” Logan quickly says before he can hear your protesting remarks.  

“Really liked that one... ah!” The tip of his tongue probes your entrance without much warning, lapping up and down your cunt. “See, baby? You missed me so much. She’s dripping here.” 

You feel embarrassed with how he is looking at you down there as if he is inspecting you. Unconsciously, you try to close your legs slightly. Logan does not like this as delivers a soft spank to one of your butt cheeks. “So shy all the time when it’s just your old man.”  

Now, his rough hands are gripping each one of your thighs and keeping you in place. His tongue lapped at your pussy—from your hole to your clit, circling and sucking until you can feel his beard slicked up by your juices. Whimpering, your hands desperately pull at his hair, pulling him closer and closer as if he isn’t already eating you up. 

He chuckles darkly when you whine pathetically at the movement of his one thick finger entering your wet hole. “Such a pretty pussy, baby.” He huffed and looked up at you with pure animalistic need as his fingers worked your walls, hitting that gummy spot that had you crying.

“Please! P-please—Logan. Want you inside,” This plead makes Logan stop his actions and glance up at you, questioningly. You weren’t sure about a lot of things, but you are sure about this. “‘M ready, pleaseplease…”  

Logan has been denying you his cock for who knows how long. All this time, he gets you off by his mouth, thighs, fingers, anything except his cock. He always has an excuse, “You’re not ready for me, baby.” Or “This ain’t about me, kid.” Or “My old bones are too tired today. Next time, yeah?” Each one of them frustrates you. 

Your virginity is making him hold himself back. You know this, he knows this. Deep down, he still thinks he is a filthy man who does not fully deserve you and that he is ruining you. He thinks by not penetrating you by his cock, he gains some sense of decency but he really is just unsure. Not about you, no, never. About himself. 

But when you look at him with those big eyes while sprawling yourself bare to him, how could he deny you? “Are you sure? Fuck. Can’t hold myself back anymore.” Logan takes off his crumpled white shirt, undoes his belt, and tosses them away, making a clinking sound that echoes through the room. His eyes grew dark with raw desire as he brought down his pants and fists his large cock in his hand. All while looking at you. 

“Yes! Please, please, give it to me. ‘Can take it!” You snapped with excitement and lean up, pressed a kiss to a part of his greying beard—the older man grins at your eagerness. “You’re going to be the death of me, pretty girl.” Logan lifts both of your legs and puts his mouth on your mound once more, making sure that you’re ready and you haven’t changed your mind.

Between his hunger licks on your pussy and the probes of his thick fingers, he mutters, “I fuckin’ love you.” And that statement itself makes you cry out his name and come all over his fingers and tongue, “L-Logan!”

“Atta girl.” You arch your back in a euphoric state of your orgasm. He could smell you. Every part of you. “So beautiful. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” 

He helps you remove every fabric you had on, your pretty white sundress, your bra, your socks—everything that is separating you and him. Now you and he are completely bare, “All this for your old man, huh?” He mumbles the rhetorical question into the chilly air, his hands ghosting over your perked nipples and pinching them softly, then kisses each one of them. He goes down on you again and kisses your clit one more time. 

The sight of him makes your breath caught in your throat. You swallow your spit at the look of greying bread glistening with your cum, at the sight of his thick cock springing against his stomach. “Is my baby ready for me?” You nod your head eagerly at him, assuring him that this is what you want. 

With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself between your bodies, “Use your big girl words, darlin’” He nudges at your already wet entrance, waiting for your response, taking his time with you. 

“‘M ready..! I want this, want you.” You pamper kisses all over his face the same way when he comforts you during your nightmare. His forehead meets yours and he kisses your lips gently as a form of understanding your needs. “Hold on t’me, my sweet girl.” 

Then his tip slips inside and you gasp into his mouth, “Good girl. My good girl. You can take it.” You tighten your grip around him as he pushes himself deep inside you, “D-Doing so good, baby. Just a little more,” down to the hilt—his cock bottoms out, “There ya’ go, princess.” Logan coos at your trembling state. 

He swallows your moans with a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring the insides of your mouth. “Feel so fuckin’ good. I fuckin’ love you.” There he says it again while he pulls himself all the way out to just the tip, then all the way back in—making you throw your head upwards.

Logan growls and kisses your bare neck, leaving some marks on it but you don’t care, in fact, you want him to. “I love you too, Logan.” You utter those words to him as he rams into you, his thrusts going faster and faster as he loses himself watching you. The friction of his cock against the velvet walls of your cunt is addictive, the pleasure makes the older man grunts. 

He thrusts harder, his hips slamming into home, the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room, alongside your little ah ah ah's . 

"Cum for me, baby. Come for your old man." With one final, powerful thrust, he releases inside your tight heat, his warm seed filling you as he curses and lets his head fall onto your embrace.

"Ah!" You shudder as you clench tight around him and milk his cock. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your body giving out of control as you experience another release of the night. 

Logan lifts his head to scan over the scene before him. He had never seen anything like it and he had seen a lot of shit. Your figure is all fucked out and filled. He didn’t think anything could be more beautiful than what he has right now. And he says it again before bringing his lips into yours, “It’s just you and me.” 

You tiredly return his kiss and look at him with a soft smile, “It’s just you and me.” 

His meaningless and plain life becomes something again because of you. You are the anchor of his life and his reason not only to stay but to fight and protect. 

Logan knows there are things that can be stopped, but then there is love.

He is in so deep too. This time, the both of you willingly let it linger. It’s just you and him.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Home? (Sebastian Solace x Reader)

Notes: Small Drabble, Sebby and Painter really need their happy ending guys :(

Credit to @cafekitsune for the divider ^^

Tears fell down your cheeks when the scene of nature invaded your senses. It felt so . . . overwhelming to be back home. After agonizing day after agonizing day down in that hellhole. The gently swaying of the trees, the soft chirps of the birds and the sound of rushing water greeting your ears contrasted greatly to the sounds of the empty ocean and horrifying screams that seemed to ring out days on end; finally seeing colors that aren't grey; the fresh smell of the trees and plants invading your sense of smell made you forget the strong smell of iron and saltwater that seemed to be present in every room.

Yeah . . . you were finally home.

With company, too. Risking a glance over to Sebastian, in his hands was the monitor of Painter, memories flood your brain that lead up to this exact moment. UrbanShade saw him as too much as a threat to the company, so much that they had sent out several EXR-P's to attempt to kill him only to fail miserably. You happened to be one of those EXR-P's. But you weren't able to go through with it, you read his file before being sent out. How he was accused of a crime he didn't commit, to being mutated beyond belief whilst in a great immense of pain, to being treated like an animal by the personnel of the company.

So when you finally encountered the man, you simply took the gun out of its holster, and handed it over to him with no hesitation. When he asked? You simply told him you refuse to be another chess piece for a company that has brought him suffering, and you wished to help him go against them.

He laughed at you for a good minute, calling you stupid for thinking that your, "little trick", would work on him of all people.

---

"Then shoot me." Those words seemed to snap him out of his laughter, bewildered bright eyes snapping in your direction when those words tumbled out, meeting determined eyes "If you believe me to be the same as those of UrbanShade," You took a step closer to him, giving him the opportunity to shoot you at point-blank, "-then shoot me dead."

---

Ever since, you teamed up against the company—though he helped take out the chip before you could proceed any further, saying how it was too much of a risk that they could be listening in—gathering any pieces of data you could potentially use against them in exchange for your freedom. It seemed to have become easier when Painter joined the cause.

An opportunity soon made itself known, months spent preparing for this one moment, none of you could mess it up. You only had one chance at succeeding. No mess-ups were allowed. It was a grueling process, but you pushed forward, determined to see the light of the sun.

And it worked. A few injuries here and there, but you now had the crystal in your possession. Once the personal heard wind of it, they immediately doubled their efforts to get their grubby hands on the crystal, like a school of piranhas going after a piece of dead meat. Though their efforts ceased when Sebastian threatened to break it with no hesitation, unless they met your demands.

Freedom, a duffel with $XXXXXX of cash and a computer for Painter to use. No chips, no trackers, no bombs, nothing. Unless they want their precious crystal to be destroyed.

And once you finally stepped foot on the surface? You let Painter and Sebastian do what they've wanted to do for a loooonng time; releasing every single piece of data that UrbanShade had to offer to the public.

It spread in a span of minutes.

The government found out about the operation Urbanshade was running, helping you all with building a case against them. The court date was set, so now you could only wait.

Now all that was left to do was watch them burn, in your old farmhouse within the woods, finally free from their clutches.

"Ready to start all over?" You were only met with silence, only the noises of the woods answering you, maybe he didn't hear you. But a glance proved you wrong, his face said everything. There was an unbelievably soft look on his face, his eyes scanning everything that surrounded him; his bottom lip seemed to tremble slightly as an overwhelming tsunami of emotions hit him all at once when the fact he was on the surface again sunk in. His eyes taking on a glassy look, his frame now trembling, holding onto Painter to make sure the AI didn't fall.

Painter only let out a sound of awe at their surrounding, their giggles echoing into the woods when a yellow butterfly landed on the frame of their screen, opening and closing its wings before flying off.

Smiling softly, you intertwined your fingers with Sebastians bigger one, giving it a small squeeze to pull him back to Earth. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back, readjusting his hold on the computer before looking over at you.

". . . Yeah," A slight crack was heard in his voice, clearing his throat before speaking again, "-yeah I'm ready."

"Let's go home then." Heading towards the worn out path, you missed the look Sebastian made at the mention of home. Home, how long has he thought about home? The safety of one, the shelter of one, the warmth of one?

"Home?"

"Yeah, home."

Next Part

[imtherain]

He Brings Me Flowers: (Sex Pollen/Logan) Part One

Hey hey heyo

I'm only a few days late and this is only half the fic, but I promised I'd publish this sooner, so I broke it in half. I'll probably post a full version too at some point.

Warnings: Sex Pollen, some fighting, plants!, surprise lesbians, newly married Jean/Scott, reader is in 1rst person because I write better that way usually, a lot of internal talking, negative self image, kinda of a cliff hanger, no sex specifically but people get a bit frisky.

I promise I'm trying to finish the rest, but my brain cells are tired

Word Count (I shouldn't tell you): just shy of 10k for this one

tagging @gothamnighthawk because I took a screenshot (promptly forgot which thing she wanted tagged in and took the last 20 minutes verifying I had the right fic)

[Masterlist]

[Logan List]

[Part Two!]

Here we go!

It all started with what sounded like a basic mission, recon only, investigating a base that had been found in a dense forest a few miles outside of a small town I’d never heard of, just across the Canadian border. The rumor was that the base was working on creating new biological weapons, but when I landed the jet, all we’d really found was a sudden, inexplicable, field of flowers.

Honestly, the place was extraordinarily beautiful, like stepping into a whole different world. The field was entirely surrounded by trees, sentinels against the outside world, holding the flower field in its arms like it was afraid they would escape. Perhaps that should have been warning enough… something too pretty in a place it shouldn’t be.

No one seemed to have any issues as we approached. And there were a lot of us, considering it was a simple recon mission, but it was a chance to stretch everyone’s legs, so basically anyone who wanted to come along had been allowed to join. 

Jean and Scott hadn’t been on a mission at all since their honeymoon, so they signed up. Rogue had been asking to go on a mission for months now, and Ororo only let her because she tagged along to keep an eye on the younger woman. And then there was Logan, who just seemed to be the default on every mission. I heard Scott joke once that they needed to bring him to ‘take the dog for a walk so he didn’t chew up anyone’s shoes’.

Oh, and of course, there was me.

I really enjoyed going on missions, but mostly because I really enjoyed flying the jet. It not only was a blast, but it made me feel useful, which was nice, because my mutations didn’t really seem all that great compared to everyone else’s. All I could do was freeze someone in time for a bit, which sounds far cooler than it is, and there weren’t exactly a lot of cases for that being particularly useful. I’d only really ever used it to hold someone until someone more important than me could come get them. And even that was rare. 

At the end of the day I was just really fancy handcuffs.

Logan and Scott were bickering while we made our way through the flowers. In patches the petals were yellows, some as big as the mammoth sunflowers my aunt used to grow, and some smaller petalled ones that looked like black-eyed-Susans. Another patch was all creamy whites, three or four different petal groupings. One patch was pale orange, another, brilliant reds. Some looked familiar and some were totally alien to me. It was almost as though every flower someone could think of was here in the field around us.

Jean and Rouge were walking behind the boys, trying to deescalate, and Ororo was right behind them. She seemed just as interested in the flowers as I was.

“Wouldn’t be a mission without those two fighting, would it?” Ororo’s voice came from beside me suddenly. I nodded.

“I swear, I don’t even hear it anymore, it’s just like how I got used to the train whistle when I lived near a crossing,” We laughed.

“Do these flowers seem off to you?” Ororo asked carefully. It was almost as though she was trying to check to see if she was hallucinating or not.

“I was wondering how they got so many varieties to bloom all at once,” I agreed. “Because back that way I saw a whole bunch of flowers that shouldn’t be blooming this time of year, right next to ones that shouldn’t be growing this far north at all,” 

“Maybe they have something to do with the intel we received,” Ororo said. 

“What are you ladies talking about back here,” Logan’s voice drew both of our attention away from the patch of warm golden flowers we’d been admiring.

“Do these flowers seem weird to you?” I asked him. Logan’s eyes traced my face quickly before he glanced across the field. Ororo smirked at me but I ignored her.

“Not really,” He shrugged. “It all smells the same,” 

“What does it smell like?” Ororo asked, obviously hoping for some sort of insight. 

“Flowers,” He said unhelpfully. Ororo rolled her eyes at him and went to catch up with the others. Leaving me alone with Logan. 

Who was staring at me.

“What? Is there something on me?” I asked, alarmed. With this many flowers around, it wouldn’t be a surprise for there to be all kinds of bees. I wasn’t allergic that I knew of, but I also didn’t really want to find out otherwise.

“Nothing,” Logan shook his head. “Just thinking about how it’s been a while since I’ve seen you out on a mission,” 

“I literally fly you to every mission,” I rolled my eyes at him and started walking again. I didn’t want to get too far behind everyone else. Not to mention, being alone with Logan had the bad habit of making me daydream about him falling hopelessly in love with me one day.

Which I knew for a fact, was delusional at best.

“Well yeah, but you usually wait in the jet,” Logan pressed. “It’s nice to see you out,” 

“Just another person for you to show off for, huh?” I smirked, thinking I caught him.

“Nah,” He disagreed. “I don’t show off for those losers,” He nodded towards the group ahead of us with no malice in his tone. “I only show off for pretty girls like you,”

I scoffed.

“Laying it on pretty thick today,” I rolled my eyes at him even though my cheeks were red. Logan chuckled and I hated that I had the feeling he knew exactly how warm his compliment had made my chest.

But I also really wished he wouldn’t tease me so much. I knew he wouldn’t want someone like me and that he only did it to make my blush and nothing more. We were coworkers, neighbors kind of since we both lived in the adult dorms, and sometimes I’d even dare to say we were friends. But anything other than that? There was no way. He only called me pretty as a favor, a harmless tease, the way I told every cat I saw that he was handsome. And I mean, every cat is handsome, so maybe that isn’t the right comparison.

All I knew was that Logan wouldn’t want to fall in love with me. No one ever did. 

I had convinced myself I was just fine with that. Just like every other boy I’d ever gotten feelings for. I was a friend at best, never a girlfriend, never even someone to fuck. I’d made my peace with that as a young woman who found herself surrounded by doors that stayed shut, stayed locked, stayed with their flashing signs that read “Love Inside: No Admittance.”

We came upon the building not long after. It looked remarkably like an office building of some sort, but it was only one story tall and sprawling. Logan, as always, led the charge inside, checking corners and doorways as we made our way through the surprisingly unlocked front doors. I stayed with Ororo and Rouge who were both better in hand to hand situations than I was, even though I had gotten pretty good at sparring. Mostly that was thanks to Logan who taught me how to kick someone’s ass without worrying about hurting them, as that had always been an issue I had sparring with the other women. 

I was simply… bigger than them. Both taller and thicker. Hell, I knew for a fact you could add Ororo and Jean together and I’d still have about 30 pounds on them. Not to mention the time I’d given Ororo a black eye when she had finally convinced me to spar with her, and that was the same day I’d knocked the wind out of her when I wasn’t even trying to. 

Clumsy at best, uncoordinated. Not really useful for much of anything when you can’t even control your limbs correctly. Why would they bother to bring you on missions if you couldn’t fly the jet?

We didn’t see much of anything on the first level of the building. A few cameras mounted high on the wall, but they were all busted and clearly not functional. Empty offices with dusty shelves and overturned chairs. A pile of metal folding chairs collapsed near the front doors.

One room was full of empty flower pots, which was strange but harmless. Honestly, it looked as though no one had even set foot in the place in several years.

The lower level showed signs of life, but not signs of weapons being made.

The level appeared to have been mostly conference rooms originally, large glass windows looking into square spaces from a nondescript hallway. The first one was mostly empty, the only thing left was another stack of those uncomfortable metal chairs pushed against a wall. A large, dark stain, bloomed in the middle of the carpet. It smelled like mold and must.

Most of the other rooms were filled, or at least partially filled, with vines. The whole level smelled thick and cloying like a greenhouse with all the fans off. No airflow. All green air and black earth.

“Never seen anything like this before,” Jean mused.

“What, you never saw Little Shop of Horrors?” Logan asked. 

“Let’s hope this is nothing like that,” Scott slid himself into the conversation, as he always did when Logan talked to Jean. 

“Nothing seems to be moving,” I added. “But everything seems to be alive,” 

“Unsettling,” Rouge shivered at the thought. “And weren’t there supposed to be people here?” 

“Oh god, I hope they aren’t in there with all those vines,” I felt my throat constrict at the thought. 

“I don’t really want those nightmares,” Scott agreed. 

“I don’t sense anything with a heartbeat,” Jean soothed our worries, but seemed a bit nervous about whatever it was she did sense. “Not here anyway,” 

“Are you sensing something somewhere else?” Scott paused in front of her, his hands going to her arms to sooth her. They were sweet, Scott always coming to Jean’s aid, trying to make things ok for her in every way he possibly could. I often wondered if I’d like to be taken care of like that, but I figured it would make me feel like a child, and I hated being treated like a child. 

Jean said something back to Scott and he smiled at her softly.

After a while, watching them just sort of hurt my teeth.

I paused at a desk that was half covered with the greenery spilling out of the room next to it. It almost looked like the vines had either pushed the desk out of their way, or were trying to pull it back in. And these vines seemed to be leafier. Broad expanses begging to get sunlight. I wondered who would be cruel enough to grow plants like that in the dark. Or rather mostly dark, as there were a few fluorescent lights still doing their best.

Under the reaching leaves, I found some papers. Most were water damaged and useless, but one appeared to be an old magazine clipping of a man smiling at the camera, a greenhouse in the background. The way the picture had been torn from the magazine had removed the top half of the man’s head, but you could still make out the smile, still see the teeth.

There was a boy next to the man, but the boy wasn’t smiling. He was holding a potted plant to his chest, as if hoping he could hide behind the many different flower heads all coming out of it. He wore a black jacket that seemed all the more dark next to the taller man’s white lab coat.

“I found a picture,” I said, just loud enough that the others could hear. “Not sure it means anything,” 

“Let me see it,” Ororo came and took it from me. “Hmm, don’t those look kind of like the field outside?” Scott took the old clipping from her next. 

“Yeah, seems close enough to be related. Think the boy or the dad is behind all this then?” Scott asked. He flipped the image over and part of the article was visible, but he didn’t bother sharing it with the class.

“That’s an old magazine,” Logan said, not needing to look too close. “I’d wager the son,” 

“Ok, but either way, why would they be making weapons out here if they were plant people?” I asked. “I haven’t seen anything to suggest a weapon is even being made here.” 

“There’s someone coming, hide,” Jean said suddenly. Everyone moved without questioning her. 

Ororo pulled Rouge under the desk I’d been searching, the vines hanging down enough to shield them. Jean and Scott moved to slide into the nearest-to-them conference room, barely squeezing in amongst the plant life there.

I looked around, panic in my chest as I realized I didn’t have anywhere to go. The conference room to my direct left had vines pushing their way out the door. The desk was already hiding two people. I couldn’t help but freeze as I realized there was nowhere for me to hide and I was too big to just slide in somewhere. I’d get caught and blow the whole mission.

Logan caught my eye and came running towards me, which honestly, didn’t help my panic. I opened my mouth to tell him to hide himself, but he was faster than me, covering my mouth with his hand. His other arm came around my middle, holding me flush with his chest, effectively stilling us both and preventing me from making any noise.

I tried to wiggle away from him, confused as to how us standing still was going to prevent us getting caught. Logan just shushed me, and held me tighter as he listened for the threat I was sure he’d be able to hear even though I couldn’t.

Heat bloomed in my cheeks at the nearness of him. He smelled like leather and his last cigar and whatever it was he put in his hair. I heard him sniffing, trying to figure out where exactly the threat was, and probably what it was.

“Come on,” Logan’s voice was low and directly against the shell of my ear and it made me shiver. He took my hand and pulled me with him, back the way we’d come, but only into the previous section hallway so that we could hide behind the open fire doors. One side was off its hinges, leaning heavily against the wall, the other side was only partly open, making a nook between the metal and the wall behind it.

Logan pushed me into the space first so that he was on the outside should anyone or anything come for us. Always the ‘walk on the road side of the sidewalk’ type.

“I could just freeze them maybe,” I offered in a hoarse whisper.

“We don’t know who they are or what they can do,” Logan’s whisper was harsher than mine. “Best let me handle it,” 

Normally, I would have sassed him, but my heart was in my throat as if this was the worst possible game of hide-and-seek. Which, it kind of was.

There was a loud banging and the sound of someone cursing at themselves. I could almost make out their muttering as they made their way down the hall to where the others were hiding. I couldn’t see much through the opening at the hinges, but I could see the edge of the room filled with vines and make out the corner of the desk.

“Hmm, didn’t think you’d make so many leaves down here… brave girl,” A male voice praised one of the vines. I could just barely make out the reflection of his back on the glass window of one of the nearer conference rooms. He wore a white lab coat that was clearly dirty at the bottom like some mad scientist. Working with plants was dirty work, so I guess the look was warranted at least.

The man turned and began walking our way again. I felt Logan’s hand press itself against the soft part of my hip as he reached blindly behind himself to find me. He wanted to know where I was so that if and when this went sideways, he could step in front of me. I knew how he was, always a protector, and me always needing protecting. That was part of why I often stayed in the jet on missions. I didn’t want to get in his, or anyone else’s, way.

I turned to look up at Logan, listening to the mad scientist muttering to himself as he checked another section of vines. I hoped Logan could read my face as I tried to tell him not to worry about me. Logan held my eyes and I gripped onto his arm as the muttering got closer. I watched in fascination as Logan raised his free hand and his claws came out, slowly enough that they hardly made any noise at all. He looked back out the open side of our hiding spot.

I tugged on his sleeve, trying to draw him closer to me, farther from where the door wouldn’t cover him well enough. He cast me a glare that normally would have had me shrinking away from him, but as much as he wanted to protect me, I needed to protect him too. I shook my head at him, begging him to stay put. Begging him with my eyes, please, for once, just stay still.

The muttering suddenly stopped and I held my breath. Just as Logan made to move, I touched the back of my hand to his cheek and he froze, my powers temporarily holding him out of time.

I felt bad for having done it to him as I knew it wasn’t a fun experience. While it did not have any lasting effects physically, the entire time you were frozen, you could not breathe (not that you needed to), you could not move, you could not do anything but perceive the world around you. The longest I’d ever held anyone was just shy of 47 minutes. And I hated that someone had had to experience it for that long just to prove something to Charles, who had requested such a test. 

It had been one of the scientists that Charles had hired on as an intern at the time, a young man who’s name I didn’t remember. I did, however, remember how he told me it was fine, that he could take it. We even did a short session first, just a few minutes. Then he wanted to see just how long I could hold him for. Everyone else involved was so fascinated the whole time, even the scientist who had had to suffer for me to learn about myself. To learn how hard it got to hold someone like that. How I felt them struggle against my teeth.

And the scientists had learned that my powers simply paused the existence of someone, and then when I let them go, they were fine as though no time had passed. Their bodies, perfectly fine.

The mad scientist went on his way down the hall. Muttering about fertilizer and wondering where he’d left his coffee. His lab coat fluttering behind him as he went.

Once I could no longer hear him, I touched Logan’s cheek again and released him from my hold. It was easier to let someone go if I touched them again, but it wasn’t really necessary. My hold would wear out eventually, and Logan was always quicker to flee my hold than most. I figured it was because he struggled more than others.

He took a deep breath, grumbling a bit as he adjusted to having control of his limbs back, and glared at me.

“What the fuck was that for?” He demanded. 

“I didn’t want you to hop out and start clawing people without knowing what’s going on,” I snapped back. “And I could tell you were about a half a second away from doing just that,” 

Logan glared at me some more, but then shook his head, not wanting to admit I was right. 

“Let’s go get the others,” He said, taking my wrist and pulling me back into the hallway. I pulled my arm from him, rubbing the warm spot he left behind. Without the threat of being caught, him touching me at all seemed really uncalled for. Entirely inappropriate.

And something I knew I’d commit to memory for the next time I wondered what human connection felt like on a physical level.

But whatever, he shouldn’t be touching me… but since it was for extenuating circumstances, I supposed I could let it go for now. 

“Thank goodness you two are alright,” Rouge’s accent always got stronger when she was worried. “Did you see where he went?” 

“He was headed for the stairs we took to get down here,” Logan told her. He was hovering near me, and I wondered why I had the feeling he had something he wanted to say to me. But when I looked up at him, question marks in my eyes, he looked away.

He didn’t normally look away from me, and it stung. But now wasn’t really the time to be That Girl about it. If he was going to be mad at me, I could apologize again later and he’d forgive me. He always did.

“Well I say we go thata way,” Scott deadpanned, though he clearly said it like that to get a reaction. He was pointing in the opposite direction of the mad scientist.

“I hate to agree with Cyclops, but,” Logan chimed in.

“He’s right,” Ororo said, brushing a wayward bit of plant matter off Rouge’s back. “And we should hurry to find our information before that man comes back this way,” 

We moved faster now, not stopping until we found what was clearly the only office still being used as such. There were about fifteen different computer monitors stacked up on each other. Some were the big old CRT monitors, flickering dully with lists of data. Most were newer models, LCD screens or what seemed to be old flat screen TVs. Some were bolted to the wall.

Ororo and Rouge went to investigate the computer screens closer, reading the data and trying to figure out what he was doing. Jean joined them after a moment of whispering with Scott. Part of me always felt like she was up to something when she did that, but Logan told me he could always hear what sappy shit they were saying and that I wasn’t missing anything.

I had told Logan once that if he ever saw me get like that about a man he should just kill me. Logan had laughed, and promised me he would.

“Well, looks like we’re dealing with the son,” Logan said. He had gone to dig through a pile of papers and manilla folders. He held out a newspaper and I took it, reading the headline.

“‘Henry Mitchelle, Father of Renowned Botanist Prodigy Malachi Mitchelle, dead at 52. Cause Still a Mystery’.” I said aloud. I skimmed the article. “Sounds like daddy dearest’s greatest accomplishment was having his son. And this says the police should blame Malachi for the death, since Henry had been of solid health until suddenly he, well, wasn’t.” 

“He had heart failure, which had nothing to do with me.” A new voice said from the door that none of us had thought to watch. Everyone turned to him, ready to fight. He held up his hands as if he were surrendering.

“That why you started making weapons?” Logan asked. He was the only one that didn’t look like he was ready to fight, but I knew he was likely to be the first one to get in front of whatever Malachi would surely throw at us.

Malachi scoffed loudly. He was probably 35 or so, his hair needed a brush and probably a good scrub. There were soil smudges on his cheek, his forehead, and on every article of clothing he wore. His hair was mousy brown and his eyes were a terrifyingly bright shade of green.

“You think I make weapons?” Malachi sounded like we had just accused him of trying to water a fake plant. “The reason I’m out here in the middle of nowhere is so that everyone and their uncle will stop asking me to make them weapons. I suppose that’s why you’re here, you all look official.” His tone conveyed his annoyance with the idea of “official” anything. 

“We’re not government,” Scott offered. Malachi stepped into the room and took the newspaper out of my hand. He ignored Scott entirely.

“My dad always told me that I was so gifted, that I could change the world. But he also wanted the money, so he sold me off to whoever wanted my plants for the highest price.”

“I’m sorry he was like that,” I said, empathetic. I knew far too many people, fathers or otherwise, that likely would have done the same. “You deserved better,” 

“I actually had ‘better’ too, my mother.” Malachi’s face softened with the memory of her. “But she passed as well, someone told me once it was careless to have lost both parents,” 

“Are the flowers for your mother?” Ororo’s voice came from behind me. Malachi’s neon eyes turned to her.

“Originally, yes, and she loved them. I call them Feel Good Flowers because they helped the body release happy chemicals,” He smiled so softly at the memory. I wondered how this man could be dangerous. He mostly seemed to be sad, but content enough to keep living.

“I take it dad wasn’t thrilled with your Happy Flowers,” Scott said. He was standing in front of Jean and Rouge, who were both still trying to investigate while we held Malachi’s attention.

“They were deemed ‘inefficient, ineffective, and useless’ so… no, my father wasn’t exactly proud of them. Couldn’t make him money, couldn’t bring back the dead,” 

“Sounds like a jerk,” Scott’s attempt to hold Malachi’s attention was weak, but worked well enough.

“It was a blessing when he died,” Malachi agreed. “Even if they tried to blame me for it,” 

“Nice sob story, bub,” Logan said, obviously bored with this conversation. “So what are you doing out here then?” I felt my gut twist with the way Malachi’s eyes turned to Logan. Logan clearly felt the shift too because he was suddenly a lot less nonchalant about this whole thing.

“Trying to be left alone,” Malachi’s voice grew echoey as he snarled the words. 

“We were told there were weapons being made here, that’s why we’re here…” Ororo tried to cut in. Normally, her voice was soothing and cut the tension. I’d seen her talk down several potentially dangerous mutants before, which was also why she made an incredible vice principal at the school. 

But this time she’d picked an unfortunate choice of words.

Malachi’s eyes were fully glowing suddenly, just like he was a halloween decoration with those stupid LED eyeballs. A loud crash came from behind us and the wall broke in, vines shooting through. 

A flash of Cyclop’s eye bolts cut through most of them. Another crash and this time, the ceiling came down under the weight of thick plant life. There was shouting and I reached forward, trying to grab Malachi. I figured I could freeze him and it would hopefully stop the vines. 

But Logan was closer, and saw my play, so he stepped between us, swinging claws at the scientist’s face.

“Cut the crap, asshole,” Logan snarled as Malachi dodged him. “We were playing nice,” 

“You came in here to disturb me,” Malachi moved away from Logan easily as vines tangled his legs. Logan fell to the ground with a grunt, but was able to slice the vines off in one easy swing. 

“If you’re out here killing people with plants, yeah!” I shouted after him. I was out in the hallway now, both trying to be out of the way, and block Malachi from escaping towards the stairs. Malachi laughed. 

“The only people my plants have killed are the ones who came in here looking for weapons,” His face, which had been so normal before, was now a twisted snarl. “Care to be next?” The skin of his lips, and the waterline around his eyes, both seemed to have darkened to a deep green. His eyes still glowed that eerie LED green that was unsettlingly fake, but only because I knew he wasn’t made of plastic. 

“How about we don’t kill anyone?” I offered. I eyed the vines that were now crawling on the floor towards me. They curled up on themselves when they got cut down the line. I saw Logan move away from the spot the vines ended, chasing after Malachi.

“Y/N, take Storm and Rouge back to the jet, we’ll handle him,” Jean said, pushing Rouge in my direction. 

“What? We can help!” Rouge snapped.

“We can cover that end of the building while Logan deals with Malachi,” Ororo’s soothing voice came out again and Rouge bristled at it. But also, Ororo had a point. Plus, I could work on getting the jet ready to go, and it would keep Rouge, who was still not really an official XMan, out of harm's way.

“I’ll keep the seats warm,” I relented easily enough, even though the roar I heard down the hall made my anxiety spike. Logan was fighting hard, and the building shook every time he took a hit. “Y’all best go get Logan in check before they collapse the whole building,” Another crash and Jean winced, knowing it was just a matter of time before I was right. 

“We’ll go get him,” One could never see Scott’s eyes, but you could sure hear how hard he rolled them whenever Logan was up to his…shenanigans.

I grabbed Rouge’s arm and turned her towards the exit, cutting her off in the middle of arguing with Ororo about how the fight was being broken up.

“Trust me, no one’s going to get to fight much, you aren’t missing anything,” I told her. She brushed me off with a huff. 

“I know, but I hate feeling like I’m being sidelined just because I’m a newbie,” 

“I’ve been doing this for ages, and I get sidelined more often than not,” I said, a poor attempt to sooth her ruffled feathers. “There are worse things than being needed elsewhere,” 

Rouge groaned because she knew I was right.

We made pretty good time getting back to the first floor. As soon as we saw natural light again, we all sort of sighed in relief. I think we were all a bit nervous about getting buried alive and didn’t want to admit it. 

The floor behind us shook as vines shot up through it, a wave in the ocean of speckled beige. When they receded Logan’s body was lying face up and groaning on the old tiles.

“You know what? Fuck this guy,” Logan muttered as he hauled himself to his feet. A blast from Scott cut through the same hole Logan had just popped out of. “Watch it Summers!” 

“Come on,” Ororo grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the fighting again. Logan looked up and our eyes met for a brief second. I knew he’d be ok, but I hated how many hits he always seemed to have to take first. As I turned to look where I was going, I swear I saw him wink at me.

Even in the middle of a fight he found time to tease me. He really was a bully at the worst times. I told myself I didn’t care if it made my chest warm to see him so at ease in a fight.

Plus, I sometimes wondered if he liked getting hit.

“Can’t go that way!” Rouge’s voice cut into my thoughts as a mass of vines covered the front entrance.

“I thought he wanted us to leave?” I groaned. The vines tangled into each other and seemed to solidify into a new wall. “You got anything Miss Storm?” I asked. She thought for a moment.

“I can’t do anything inside the building with all the windows blocked.” Ororo lamented.

“Logan!” Rouge’s voice shouted behind us. “We can’t get out!” 

“He’s a little busy,” I rolled my eyes looking for something to help us. There were some more old chairs, but that didn’t really seem useful at the moment.

“Never too busy for you,” Logan’s voice at my shoulder made me jump. He’d come running when Rouge shouted but it always surprised me how fast he was when he wanted to be.

“Think you can open the doors for us?” I asked him, pretending he wasn’t smiling at me. Pretending he didn’t look amazing fresh from getting shoved through who knows how many walls (and also the floor) of the main office.

“One weed wacker, coming up,” Logan unsheathed his claws with a smirk and I rolled my eyes at his joke wondering how long he’d been working on that one.

Logan chopped through one layer of vines, just for it to be replaced by another. He growled and went after it with both hands, but still, each vine he cut was replaced by another. 

The floor shook and jostled me into the useless metal chair pile that occupied the space behind me. The noise was far more obnoxious than the pain it caused me. Rouge cursed as she also lost her footing and landed against the vine wall. Luckily, the vines didn’t seem to care since she wasn’t trying to prune them.

“You good, sweetheart?” Logan called over his shoulder, still slicing at the wall.

“I’m fine,” I snapped, pulling myself back to my feet. It was hard to stand up again because the chairs shifted and I couldn’t get a good spot to push myself up from. Plus, if I were honest, I had landed on something pokey that jabbed me in the ribs hard enough to make breathing hard for a second, but no one needed to know that. They’d just worry about me and we didn’t have the time for that.

“Hurry!” Ororo shouted at Logan.

“You wanna try it?” Logan snapped back angrily. Ororo rolled her eyes at him.

“Umm, guys?” I swallowed hard as I watched a mass of plants swell up through the hole in the office floor. “That doesn’t look good,” 

“Where are Jean and Scott?” Rouge asked.

“Want your friends back?” The voice sounded like three or four of Malachi all speaking at once. I felt my stomach drop. Wherever his mutations were made him look like a monster now. All glowing bits and the wrong colors. “Have them back!” 

Suddenly another couple of vines burst through the floor and flung two bodies at us. They both slid to a stop in front of me and Ororo. 

“Scott! Jean!” Ororo cried out. They both got to their feet and dusted themselves off.

“Hey guys, the elevator here sucks,” Scott coughed. Jean smacked his arm. “What?” 

“We need to get out of here,” Jean told him as though that wasn’t already obvious. 

“Trying to, but this wall is really persistent,” Logan grumbled.

“The vines are trying to protect him,” Jean said. “Which means they’ll only let him through,” 

“And that helps us… how exactly?” I demanded, watching as Malachi and his vines moved closer. If he moved slowly to toy with us or to give us time to realize how futile fleeing turned out to be, I didn’t know. I was more confused as to how things had gone so far south so fast. Malachi had seemed reasonable enough…right until he started glowing.

“Like this,” Jean held up her hands and Malachi’s advance froze. “Logan?” Jean asked in the same tone of voice she’d use for the most mundane requests.

“Yeah?” He sounded skeptical of this whole situation. 

“Go stand by the girls please,” Jean nodded towards Ororo, Rouge, and I. Logan raised an eyebrow but took the three steps he needed to clear the doorway. Jean turned and thrust her arms out.

With a multilayered scream, Malachi and his chunk of vines blasted their way through the blockaded door. 

I peered through the opening long enough to assess that Malachi was down for at least a few moments, and before anyone else said anything, I moved to push Ororo and Rouge, the closest two to me still, out the door.

“Time to go!” I shouted. The others all agreed and the six of us bolted out into the afternoon sun, back out into the impossible field of flowers. 

We could hear Malachai groaning as we hurried past. Maybe we should have checked on him, or arrested him, or something? But we were all too ready to be back on the jet. We could come back for him another day, much more prepared for him.

“Why do I always park so far away?” I complained as we moved through the field. Everyone else was what felt like miles ahead of me and I could distinctly hear Malachi and his vines moving behind us. I risked looking over my shoulder and almost instantly tripped over my feet and crash landed into an entire bush of flowers. 

I heard the stems break under my body and something in me lamented that I’d killed such a beautiful plant. But then I noticed why I had actually tripped. The vines were under the ground now, wiggling their way between the plants so as to not disturb them.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted my name and it felt so far away. The flowers that lay crushed on the ground beneath me looked like white chrysanthemums, each flowerhead the size of my fist, only they had red stamin sticking out of them. They were so beautiful, but also alien to me.

“Just go!” I shouted back, getting to my feet. “The vines are underground!” I added. I noticed then that the mound of vines that had held Malachi had disappeared. 

And there Malachi stood where we’d left him, still as a statue, as a breeze rushed through. The wind kicked up dust from around what might have been a million different flowers. I felt the fine powder get whipped against my face and closed my eyes against what felt like the tiniest grains of sand. I coughed, knowing it was surely in my lungs too. 

When I opened my eyes and looked at Malachi standing there in the distance, he was tousled and dirty, but also looked almost exactly the same as when we first saw him. He didn’t move to follow or attack us anymore.

And his eyes were no longer glowing as he stared blankly after us.

I caught up with the others just as they got the jet’s door open. It always took such a terribly long time to let the ramp down when we closed it, which was why we usually left it open for a quicker getaway. But since no one was sitting with our only ride home, we decided to be more careful and close it for once.

“Move, move, move,” Logan’s voice was loud as he ushered everyone on board. I noticed that the front of his uniform had the same fine dust that had pelted me in the face after I’d tripped. I probably wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for the fact that Jean had left a barely there handprint in the powder on his chest when she touched him as she climbed on board the ship.

It always annoyed me when she did that to him. Jean had literally married Scott less than six months ago and yet she still touched Logan like they were maybe more than friends. Not that it was any of my business, but leave the poor man alone.

Nevermind the green thing in me that wished I was allowed to touch his chest like that.

Scott was flipping switches to turn on the jet as I crested the ramp. I counted that we had everyone on board and hit the button to close up the hatch again.

“Well, that wasn’t great,” I complained, moving to the captain’s chair and shooing Scott from the controls. When I sat down I noticed that my chest felt funny, like I’d been holding my breath too long. And I was really warm, like maybe I was getting a fever.

“Scott?” Jean’s voice was worried and of course, her husband came running to her. I tried to tune them out while I finished the sequences to get us fully airborne. 

“Something’s off, something doesn’t feel right,” Jean was almost babbling. I had to focus on getting us safely into the clouds, so I didn’t notice the change things took until I heard Logan swear.

“What the fuck you two?” His anger made me turn in time to see Jean straddling Scott’s lap while she kissed him. Clearly with tongue. 

“I… I need you,” Jean stammered into Scott’s throat. Scott seemed to be under the influence of whatever nonsense had its hold on her too, as he was not trying to stop her from kissing him, nor from grinding down on his lap. When she moved up, his suit was clearly struggling to contain whatever it was he kept in his pants. 

“Guys!” I snapped.

“Can’t…stop,” Scott panted. “Need you,” The second part was directed at Jean. I scoffed out loud and turned back to the controls because I really needed to get us to the altitude to use the autopilot. It took all of two minutes max, but with the idea of what was happening behind me fresh and spiky in my mind, it made it feel like a hell of a lot longer.

And my head was feeling strange, like maybe I was getting a migraine or something.

I could hear a scuffle and some moaning as Logan tried to break apart the lovebirds. 

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Scott’s voice was low and a kind of menacing that I didn’t know he was capable of. 

“You wouldn’t risk bringing this entire jet down just to get your rocks off,” Logan was clearly struggling with someone else while he snapped at Scott. 

“MMm,” Jean’s voice moaned. “Logan,” I stood then and punched the button for auto pilot with my entire fist.

“What the actual fuck is going on back there?” I demanded turning to face them. Jean was trying to rub herself on Logan, begging for any sort of friction while he did his best to keep her at arms length. I felt a sharp hit of anger and jealousy ricochet around my ribs. It was stronger than any such similar feelings I’d had before and I was confused as to why I suddenly wanted to grab Logan and pull him behind me.

Or under me.

Shaking that thought from my head, I tried to ignore the heat on my face.

“Need Scott,” Jean said, sounding like she’d forgotten what syllables were. “Or Logan,” she purred his name in a way that made me want to jump out the window. Logan shoved her back at Scott, who happily caught her.

“Both of you knock it off,” Logan reprimanded them as though they were children. But when he turned to look at me, it was obvious that part of the reason he’d shoved Jean off was because whatever it was that had affected them was doing something to him too. “Fuck,” The curse was quieter and more to himself as he shivered.

“Is it actually getting really hot in here?” Rouge’s voice was shaky as she asked. 

“I think we were drugged,” Ororo managed. She had a light sheen of sweat forming along her brow as she watched Scott and Jean making out like teenagers. Her eyes were stuck to them as though looking away would be a crime.

“How? When?” Logan snapped. He looked a bit twitchy, standing too close to the lovebirds. “You two need to fucking stop,” Irritated both for good reason, and for the uncomfortable pressure that was forming in his chest.

“Storm?” Rouge questioned as Ororo put her hand on her thigh, far higher up than was normal for either of them.

“Marie, since when do you smell so nice?” 

“Ok, I am not dealing with this,” I said, feeling a weird mix of fear, anxiety, and heat blooming in my chest. “Everyone, it’s nap time,” I decided all at once. I had no idea if I could hold more than one person at a time, but if ever there was a need to…

“You taste sweeter than sugar, honey,” I felt the blood rush to my ears and to my stomach as I registered the Ororo and Rouge had just kissed. I had to physically push Logan out of my way so I could make a direct path to the original problem… Jean and Scott, who were about three seconds from peeling off their suits.

I grabbed each of them by the back of their neck, as if scruffing a misbehaving pair of puppies, and pulled them apart. They both looked up at me in shock for a moment before falling back together, limp and frozen in time.

“Secure them in their seats please,” I commanded Logan as I made my way over to Ororo and Rouge. Logan finally moved to do as I asked and I wondered if he was feeling the same wobbly feeling I was as I stopped in front of the next pair of us.

“Yes ma’am,” Logan purred and I ignored that wave of want that his graveled voice pulled through me.

Ororo and Rouge at least appeared to be trying not to cause a scene, but they were eyefucking quite openly. And their hands were wandering.

“It hurts in my chest,” Ororo told me as I pulled her hand off Rouge’s thigh. Rouge whimpered at the loss, but had steeled herself for at least the moment. “Like I need to touch her or I’ll die,” she sounded so scared. I broke my heart because I didn’t know what was going on and so I couldn’t help her. Or my other friends.

“We’ll get you home and Hank will know what to do,” I assured her. The best I could think of.

She buckled herself into her seat as Rouge reached for her arm, begging for contact again. I pressed my fingers against Ororo’s cheek and her eyes went hazy and she went limp, her seatbelts holding her upright.

I had never figured out why some people froze more solidly than others. Logan always seemed to keep his feet when frozen, but almost everyone else turned into noodles. I turned to Rouge who was looking at Ororo with a sort of pained look that I couldn’t place. It was somewhere near lust, of course, but there was something that spoke of fear in it too. I wondered if either of them had lusted for a woman before.

“I promise, I’ll release y’all as soon as I can, so please don’t fight me,” I told her. I wasn’t particularly southern, but y’all was something I’d picked up from someone and never managed to put back down. I touched her face carefully and she laid back in her seat, her hand still resting on Ororo’s arm.

“How are you so calm?” Logan demanded through clenched teeth. I could feel my heart beating at a higher rate than normal, but if Logan thought I was calm, he didn’t realize that. Which was good, he didn’t need to worry about me.

Also alarming because usually he could tell when someone’s heart was racing (and he’d teased me about it more than once).

“I was hoping you weren’t being affected,” I groaned. My head felt full of cotton, like everything was in a soft focus and there was tea waiting for me when I sat down, that kind of feeling. 

“All I can smell is them,” He growled, taking a step towards me.

“Sit down and buckle up,” I told him, my voice a bit shaky. There was a terrible ache between my thighs, like someone had scooped out my insides and were about to carve me like a pumpkin.

Logan stepped closer and for a second I thought he was going to listen. If I had them all held, maybe it would be easier. Maybe I could focus on holding them still instead of the fact I really wanted to know if Logan’s tongue tasted like cigars or not.

I bet it did.

“I want to smell you,” Logan’s pupils were blown beautifully wide. “And only you,” he was staring down at me like I was the only thing in the entire universe. I wished it was true, that he felt that way about me. But I knew it was whatever we’d been covered with. I knew it wasn’t real.

“Sit down,” My voice was weaker than I wanted it to be.

“Why can’t I smell you?” He was almost just talking to himself, annoyed that he could smell everyone else’s arousal over mine.

I walked backwards towards the captain’s and copilot's chair, pleased that Logan followed. But I wasn’t quick enough and he managed to get his hands on my hips. I brought my hands up between us, pushing him away.

But he was always so much stronger than me, so I struggled to get any space between us. Besides, as soon as he was in my space, something in me really wanted to drown in him instead. Consequences be damned.

“If I drop you here, I can’t lift your heavy… heavy ass off the floor,” I panted as he leaned down to inhale deeply at my throat. I surprised myself at the whimper that left me when he placed the first open mouth kiss at the only skin exposed on my neck over my suit.

“Fuck,” He moaned so low in his chest I could feel it vibrate in mine. “Let me just… just touch you for a second,” 

“Logan, it’s not real,” I told him. It didn’t ease the ache in my gut but it helped keep my mind clear. Plus there were four different strings already pulling my brain tight. I was wildly, uncomfortably aroused, but I wasn’t about to lose control just because the man I had a crush on was kissing my neck.

When did he unzip the top of my suit to get to more skin?

“Please,” He moaned against my throat again. “Just one kiss, then I’ll behave, promise.” 

“I don’t believe you,” I murmured, trying desperately to push him away. But it felt so nice to have him like this. It was something I’d thought about far more times than I’d ever admit to anyone. And my hand was in his hair.

But it wasn’t real, he didn’t really want me. 

Why would he? 

“Y/N,” Logan groaned as his hands moved to find my chest. I gasped at the sensation of his warm hand covering one of my breasts. I wanted so badly to surrender to the feeling, to let him touch and feel and devour me whole.

But I knew it wasn’t real, and that hurt differently enough that I finally got my last two working brain cells together to push him off.

“Fuck, Logan, sit your punkass down,” I snapped, feeling tears in my throat. It would be so much easier to give in. To at least feel something good for once. To finally figure out what it would feel like to be with him.

But it wasn’t real, wasn’t real, wasn’t real… and I knew I would hate myself when it was over if I gave in now.

Logan gave me a sassy smirk, watching me breathing hard as a reaction to him and what he’d done. 

“Don’t you feel it too?” 

“I don’t feel anything,” I lied. The snap of my words seemed to surprise him, but only deterred him long enough for me to sit myself in the Captain’s chair and buckle in. “Now, don’t touch me,” I commanded him. I knew if he touched me too much I’d give in. That at some point, the effects would overwhelm me too. Best to keep him away.

“No,” He growled. “Wanna smell you, wanna touch you, wanna fuck you,” His eyes were so hazy and it made my center pulse with need and that empty, endless ache. But the endless ache was an old friend, I’d sat with her before. I could sit with her now too.

“I need to call the mansion,” I told him. 

Maybe ignoring him would help keep him at bay. I knew it wouldn’t. Even without the nonsense going on, he’d never been a particularly good listener unless he wanted to be. 

And he sure didn’t want to be right now. 

“Don’t interrupt or I’ll not let you smell me ever again,” I told him. This seemed to work better as he sat cross legged next to me on the floor, perked up like a dog waiting for a bone after having done a trick. I felt a wave of lust wash over me at his eagerness to please me. My core ached, knowing he’d gladly lap me up for his reward.

“Did you find it?” Charle’s voice over the radio should have been a relief but it made me angry because it wasn’t the right voice. But I bit back my annoyance and tried to respond coherently.

“We’re flying back.” My voice was choppy as I took too many breaths. “I have everyone but Logan frozen, we…we were dosed with something,” 

“Y/N,” Logan grumbled impatiently.

“What’s happening?” 

“Umm…” I suddenly was too embarrassed to say what was going on. 

“Y/N? Is everyone alright?” The alarm in Charles’ voice snapped my brain cells together with enough force I was able to manage one sentence.

“They’re trying to fuck each other,”

“Oh.” The embarrassment would have killed me had Logan not gotten impatient and started sniffing along my leg, pressing open mouth kisses along the seams of my pants. I swatted at him, trying to get him to knock it off. He just smirked and kept pressing, glad to at least have my hand in his hair.

“I have them frozen, but Logan…” My voice got caught in my throat as Logan moved to bury his face in my hip, nuzzling and smelling his way up my ribs until his face was in my armpit. “Jesus fuck, knock it off,” I whined like a kid who was late for nap time. All upset and no anger. I felt tears in my eyes and in my throat because this was all simply Too Much. 

“Are you safe to get everyone home?” Charles redirected. I grabbed Logan’s face and glowered at him.

“Take a nap,” I told him and tried to snag him in my powers. It worked but he was frozen with an arm across my lap and his face trying to find a way into my suit. “Sorry, I had to freeze Logan too, but he’s harder to hold onto.” I tried to keep my words even. But I could feel all five of them now, like trying to hold onto the strings of too many balloons but only with my teeth. 

“Y/N, can you fly everyone home?” 

“Yeah, I think so. Best prepare them for us, tell Hank it was Malachi Mitchelle, maybe that’ll help.” Logan’s string slipped in my mental grip and he growled as he pulled himself free.

“Gotta go,” Logan said loud enough for Charles to hear as he sat up on his knees to turn off the radio connection. “Now, you,” His eyes were hungry and his gaze made my insides twist with want.

“Logan, please just stop,” I begged. I was specifically trying not to feel anything for him, to not let him do something he’d regret later. I knew he didn’t want this. At the moment, I’m not sure any of us really did.

“No,” He challenged me. Logan’s hands traced my body, one moved around to the inside of my thigh and inched its way closer to my center. He held my eyes, daring me to tell him I didn’t want this.

But this wasn’t about what I wanted.

“It’s not real, you don’t want this,” I felt those tears again, warm in my throat and stinging behind my eyes. He looked up at me and brushed the tears from one of my cheeks with his thumb.

“No, I do want this… I’m always gonna… never going to stop,” He was breathing heavily but smirking. My center pulsed and squeezed around nothing because dammit all if that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear.

Logan’s smirk got lost when he buried his face into the crease made by my leg and hip. He breathed in the scent of me again and the moan that escaped him had my heart ricocheting in my chest. 

“Never going to get enough of the smell of you.” I found my hands in his hair, fingers intertwined in his tuffs as if I had the strength to pull him away from my lap.

“Why?” I asked more as a general question, ‘why is this happening to me?’ or ‘why do I bother trying to be good?’ or maybe even a bit of ‘why would you say that to me?’

“Cuz I love you,” Logan murmured against my stomach. I looked down at him, that ache in my pelvis shimming at the closeness of him. But the ache in my chest? That longing for something real? It burned brighter. I knew he wasn’t trying to tease me this time and somehow that made it worse. 

While influenced he probably thought he was telling the truth.

I couldn’t take it when I knew the fall would come when this madness passed. The look in his eyes when he realized ‘oh god, what have I done?’.

I felt tears in my throat again. I wished what he said was true, that his ardent behavior was stemming from somewhere real and true. But it wasn’t.

It simply wasn’t.

I grabbed his face in one hand, the other still in his hair, and squeezed his cheeks together while he looked at me like he never wanted to look at anything else.

“Go the fuck to sleep, you petulant child,” I ground out, all the anger in me aimed at myself and the fact that I had to deny myself this wonderful thing. This thing my body craved.

This time, Logan’s eyes went hazy and blank, his jaw went slack, and his limbs all buckled under him. I finally had him wound tight enough to hold. 

But now I had to hold him, and the other four, for the next 43 and half minutes. Which was the expected time remaining, according to the flight data that flashed on one of the panels. I had no idea if I could hold on to everyone that long, especially Logan who was too good at shaking off my powers.

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

[Part Two!]

Likes/comments/reblogs directly correlate to how much fanfiction/fanart you see ;)

[banj0possum]

Eat Your Heart Out

Yandere!Zombie Horde x Male Reader

Cw: Apocalyptic world, mention of death, poly relationship

A terato request by @xweirdo101x, hope you like it! (*´∀`*)/

Edit!! Nsfw content removed!! Apologies stinkers

💀 You don't remember the last time 'normal' was the norm in your life. Bustling streets became barren and gigantic cities were nothing but ruins and hot spots for survivors or whatever monsters ruled the surface now. Ever since the start of the virus outbreak, the world fell apart into something out of an apocalypse movie, where the only rule was survived and pray the infected doesn't find you.

💀 You could remember however, how this all started. not only was it because of a virus, but it was man-made. It was supposed to be humanity's saving grace, a way to cure all ailments and boost the abilities of whoever took it, but it turned out to be a horrific world-destroying disease that ruined the mind of everything it infected. Humans, animals, plants, almost everything mutated into mindless, bloodthirsty monsters.

💀 You winced at the memories of seeing the news on tv, the sight of people running and screaming from infected, their snarls echoing in your mind as the memory of seeing your friends die in front of you one by one flashed in your mind. You groan, knowing how hopeless it was in this world, but your will to live was too strong.

💀 Living in the ruins at was your town isn't so hard, there was always food to scavenge for in the old mall which you lived in, and you were the only one left to your knowledge so there was no competition for supplies.

💀 Although there was a tiny problem...

💀 A small horde of zombies decided to take residence in the mall as well. Unlike their movie counterparts, they weren't heaps of rotting flesh but pale-looking creatures that looked like they didn't eat in days, albeit with bits of their flesh missing but nothing too gross. They still moaned and groaned but at least they didn't smell from a mile away. At first you were very weary of them, but after a certain encounter, you found out they never seemed to be interested in attacking you.

💀 They were surprisingly docile, only getting aggressive at other monsters that wandered in the mall.

💀 You didn't know the virus mutated once again, allowing certain infected to regain a bit of their consciousness.

💀 The horde met each other through wandering aimlessly before bumping into one another, they formed somewhat of a pack or group of sorts, knowing they were all different from the rest of the monsters that infested the world.

💀 You noticed the horde would be around wherever you went, the food court, the arcade, the cinema, it was like they were following you.

💀 Although they never tried to eat you at first sight, you still didn't want a fight with an entire horde, so you avoided them whenever, much to their dismay.

💀 You would then see one of two of them follow you around. You'd be spooked for a bit before realizing they would copy anything you did. You jumped and yelped and the zombie following you would do the same.

💀 The zombie would coo and purr at you, sniffing at the air like a lost pup. You hesitantly put down your weapon and walk closer to him. You get out a soft 'hello' and the zombie gurgles out a 'hi' back, making you utterly astonished, taken aback by the zombie's intelligence.

💀 Ever since then you would study the horde and their behaviors. They all had different personalities which intrigued you further. You decided to give them names as you couldn't just call them 'zombies' all the time.

💀 One with the flesh from his right arm missing was named 'Screw' because of his tendency to collect shiny bits and bobs from the ground of broken objects. He was shy but loved to show you the things he's collected.

💀 Another had parts of his ribs showing, but surprisingly nothing inside was named 'Ribs' as he fiddled with his most of the time. He was curious and a bit hyper, always wandering the most and the fastest among them.

💀 One, which was probably the smartest, had only one eye, which he could move from one socket to the other by tilting his head was 'Soda' because he had the quirk of copying you eating or drinking. One time he copied you drinking a bottle of soda pop and he gurgled in happiness over the fizzy taste. He knew what certain things were if you told him and he recognized objects in pictures like dogs or planes, things you haven't seen since the first wave.

💀 The last and most likely the leader was named 'Bo' as he had a dog tag on him, probably from serving the military when he was human. Despite his stomach being missing he was weirdly strong, always protecting the rest of the horde when there were monsters that were more aggressive than most.

💀 You and the horde quickly grew a bond, sometimes they even found food for you or protected you from danger or even other zombies. You never knew what drove them to be so protective, but you were happy you didn't have to live alone anymore.

💀 You noticed the horde being more affectionate, being found wandering closer and closer to where you usually stayed. You figured it was because they were so close to you until one managed to make its way into the boarded-up store you lived in.

💀 It was Screw looking through your clothes, sniffing and rummaging your shirts and underwear, you remember they relied on smell a lot and assumed he wanted to look for you and followed your scent into your home.

💀 Unbeknownst to you, they were absolutely in love with you. They came to the mall for refuge and found something much better, a lovely little mate to call theirs, one soft and squishy and warm and very very tough, something that is important when surviving in the wastelands. The times where you would touch them whether it was a light brush on their hands or pats on their shoulders of heads were the best. Your warm body making contact with their cold, dead ones.

💀 The horde had enough of you hiding and running away from them all the time, playing a teasing game of cat and mouse with them, they wanted to take care of you don't you see? They won't hurt you! You're their little mate!

💀 Bo sent Screw to track you as he was always the one to follow you around back when they first came to the mall. He followed your scent to a small hole that was hidden behind a dumpster. He crawled inside and was hit with the most powerful smell of your sweet scent he could ever encounter. He coos, knowing he found your little nest.

💀 The others were standing by the dumpster, waiting for a signal from Screw that the area inside was safe for them to enter. Meanwhile you were trying your best to shoo Screw out, scared that he might hurt himself with all the delicate objects and weapons you kept in your home.

💀 Ribs heard your voice and gurgled happily, quickly crawling inside, Bo and Soda going in after him.

💀 You finally got a purring Screw in your hands as you spot the others entering your home through one of the entrances you made. You feel your eye twitch as you try to process what was going on.

💀 Screw was happily cooing in your arms as Soda limps over to you smiling and chittering, his hands on your arms as Bo curtly moves closer to you like a guilty puppy.

💀 You then notice you didn't see Ribs and you turn around as you're tackle-hugged to the ground by the zombie along with Screw, the two of them cuddling and rubbing themselves on you as you try to wriggle out of their hug.

💀 Soda leans down beside you three as Bo does the same, the four undead men now cooing and purring all over you.

💀 Now you don't really have to leave your little home as they would always keep you gently nestled in the bundle of blankets and soft things they found around the mall. They would take turns with whoever would stay by your side for the day as the rest wandered around in search of food or trinkets to bring back to you and maybe a survivor or two for a little snack.

💀 All in all, they can't get enough of you, and you can't help being stuck with a zombie cuddling you 24/7

i didnt mean to write them so asfjnakfeqkgkaeg they are such little meow meows i cant-

[undeadcourier]

Ghouls are, put simply, humans suffering from advanced, prolonged radiation sickness and whose bodies have mutated such that gamma radiation extends their lifespan past natural limits.

The process of ghoulification is outlined in canon sources, but I wanted to make a guide that goes into more detail on the effects of radiation sickness in various cases, since the level and type of exposure significantly affects the outcome.

This is the first in what will be a series of posts exploring both real-life cases of radiation sickness and the sci-fi concept of ghoulification in some depth. Graphic descriptions of the physical deterioration of the body are included for informative purposes; reader discretion is advised.

For this first case study, I examine the effects on the human body of exposure to high levels of radiation in a short period of time, with a focus on the real case of Hisashi Ouchi.

On September 30, 1999, a lack of appropriate safety measures and the proper materials resulted in an accident that caused three workers at the nuclear power plant in Tōkai-mura, Japan, to suffer from severe radiation poisoning while purifying reactor fuel.

Point of Criticality

An uncontrolled fission reaction was produced when technicians poured nearly seven times the legal limit of uranium oxide into an improper vessel containing nitric acid. The men reported seeing a bright blue flash—indicative of Cherenkov radiation—when the mixture reached critical mass, flooding the room with radiation. The workers evacuated to the decontamination room, but already, the two who had been handling the reactive solution were overcome with intense pain from radiation burns, severe nausea, and difficulty breathing. Hisashi Ouchi, who suffered the highest level of exposure, also experienced rapid difficulties with mobility and coherence. Upon reaching the decontamination room, he vomited and fell unconscious.

~1 Hour Post-Exposure

Ouchi regained consciousness in the hospital about 70 minutes after the criticality accident, where doctors confirmed that he had been exposed to high doses of gamma, neutron, and other radiation.

The maximum allowable annual dose of radiation for nuclear technicians in Japan was 50 millisieverts. Exposure to more than 7 sieverts is considered fatal. Yutaka Yokokawa, the supervisor, had received 3 sieverts. The technicians who had been handling the uranium, Masato Shinohara and Hisashi Ouchi, received 10 sieverts and 17 sieverts, respectively.

~1 Day+ Post-Exposure

During the first few days in the ICU, Ouchi appeared to be in remarkably good condition, given the circumstances: the skin of his face and right hand was slightly red, as if by a sunburn, and swollen. His eyes were bloodshot, and he reported pain under his ear and right hand, which had received the most direct exposure, but he could speak normally, and he joked with the doctors and nurses attending to him.

6 Days Post-Exposure

Tests revealed that the high energy radiation that Ouchi had been exposed to had obliterated the chromosomes in his bone marrow. They were unrecognizable—some severed, some fused, all out of order. This damage meant that his body was unable to create new blood cells. The red blood cells that transport oxygen could not be replaced, and Ouchi's white blood cell count was near zero, leaving him extremely vulnerable to infection.

~1 Week+ Post-Exposure

Intensive treatments, including numerous skin grafts, blood and bone marrow transfusions, and revolutionary stem cell transplants were conducted in an attempt to stabilize Ouchi, but ultimately without lasting success.

The skin grafts couldn't hold; when medical tape was peeled from his skin, his skin came with it, and the marks left behind couldn't heal. Blisters like those of a burn appeared on his right hand.

Ouchi reported frequently that he was thirsty.

~10 Days Post-Exposure

By this point, Ouchi's oxygen levels were so low that even speaking required tremendous effort. Ouchi was placed on supplemental oxygen and required sedatives to be able to sleep.

2 Weeks+ Post-Exposure

Ouchi was no longer able to eat and required an IV. By day sixteen, most of the skin on the front side of his body had fallen off.

His low platelet count and lack of healthy skin meant that his blood and bodily fluids leaked through his damaged pores, resulting in unstable blood pressure.

Donor stem cells that were meant to allow his body to create new tissue were also destroyed by the radiation present in his body.

~1 Month Post-Exposure

On the 27th day following the accident, Ouchi suffered from intense diarrhea. The mucus layer of his large intestine had vanished, exposing the red submucosal layer beneath. His body could no longer disgest or absorb anything he ingested; even water was excreted as diarrhea.

The skin of Ouchi's right hand was almost entirely gone, leaving the surface of his hand raw and dark red. Blisters spread across his right arm and abdomen, then over his entire body. Gauze was required to replace his skin, and his fingers had to be individually wrapped to prevent them from sticking together. Without skin to keep him warm, Ouchi required an electrothermic device to maintain his body temperature while his bandages were changed—a daily procedure that took hours. Every time the gauze was removed, more of Ouchi's remaining skin went with it. His eyelids could not shut, and his eyes bled. His nails fell off.

Ouchi's right arm was necrotizing, leading to an increasing amount of myoglobin—a protein in muscle tissue—flowing in Ouchi's blood. Untreated, this could result in renal failure as the kidneys could not process the amount of myoglobin present.

Ouchi's body could not regenerate the platelets that form scabs, meaning the risk of hemorrhage was extreme.

By day 50, more than two liters of fluid seeped from Ouchi's damaged skin each day. The amount of fluid prevented skin grafts from adhering. Furthermore, he began to suffer from blood in his stool, and permeated blood seeped between his inflamed small and large intestines.

2 Months+ Post-Exposure

On the 59th day after the accident, Ouchi suffered the first of many heart attacks. His kidneys and liver were also failing. He no longer showed reactions to stimuli.

By day 63, Ouchi's macrophages—the immune cells that normally attack and consume bacteria and viruses—were attacking his own healthy blood cells.

After 67 days, Ouchi suffered internal hemorrhage. He bled from his mouth and intestines.

Ouchi would continue to suffer from heart attacks, as many as three in one hour. Each time, he was revived, but he suffered increasing brain damage, until multiple organ failure ended his life after 83 days in the hospital.

Ouchi's colleague Masato Shinohara underwent numerous successful skin grafts and a stem cell transfusion as well as radical cancer treatment, but he, too, died of multiple organ failure after seven months. Their supervisor, Yutaka Yokokawa, was treated for minor radiation sickness and was released from the hospital within three months of the accident.

This detailed chronology was referenced from the book A Slow Death: 83 Days of Radiation Sickness by Iwanami Shoten, translated by Maho Harada. My post, of course, focuses on Ouchi's physical condition in his final months, but it’s important to remember him not just as a victim or a patient. He was a loving husband and father whose sense of humor and resilience left an impression on everyone he came into contact with. The book is available in its entirety here and provides a moving, nuanced account of the incident and the efforts to save Ouchi's life.

[areyouwell]

Athazagoraphobia

Noun: An extreme and irrational fear of forgetting. Children or adults with this condition tend to experience nausea, raised heart rate or panic attacks when attempting to remember someone they don't.

Ch.5

Ch.4, Ch.3, Ch.2, Ch.1 <--

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, sexual content, talks of suicide, suicide attempt, descriptions of extreme bodily harm, needles, this chapter gets dark, reader discretion is advised

Word Count: 13.7k

A/N: i have been looking forward to this chapter for so long oh my GOD i am vibrating. this is the shit i love, although the absolute BATTLE i just fought to get this post off the ground was long and arduous so rip my formatting tumblr didn't like it :( god gives his hardest battles to his silliest soldiers. also kurt and hank are here because i felt bad leaving them out timeline WHAT TIMELINE?

Taglist: @badbishsblog @reidsworld @idioticstar @toogaytofunctiondangit @ghostyv @wolviesgirl @over-bi-the-wayside

To say Logan hadn’t gotten much sleep was an understatement. Sure, he’d dozed off here and there, but he would jolt awake every time you held so much as a sleepy breath. He couldn’t shake the image from his mind. Seven of them. The way their heads cocked at an unnatural angle. The way they silently stared, faceless, voiceless, seemingly just watching. Waiting. The way they sank back into the shadows the moment you stirred. They must have been from you, some subconscious product of your mutation. Still, he’d be lying if he said it didn’t creep him out a little. 

Though, he didn’t know what else he expected. You could manipulate and walk through shadows. You were bound to have some creepy quirks, as well as constantly looking tired, apparently. 

Sunlight streamed through the curtains, dust mites floating in the golden beams filtering through the leaves of the various plants near your window. You’d told him a while ago you’d named them all, something about giving them a voice making them grow faster, or something else equally as ridiculous. He still didn’t quite know which one was Molly and which one was Dalia, but he could tell his Herberts from his Judases, which was a start, he supposed. 

Fucking hell he was down so bad.

You still slept soundly against his chest, occasionally a soft snore would melt his heart, or a discontented pinch of your brow only to smooth out when you nestled closer. Part of him wished neither of you ever had to move. Actually, scrap that, he wished you didn’t have to move with his whole being. He silently thanked whoever came up with the idea of Saturdays and the knowledge that the two of you could spend a lazy morning in bed without the approaching threat of teaching a class. 

Maybe he would take you out today, steal Scott’s bike and escape for one peaceful moment. There were a few lakes nearby he wouldn’t mind visiting with you, end the day at a bar or something. The image of you perched behind him on the bike, your arms wrapped around his middle, cheek resting against his back made up his mind. He was definitely going to take you out today. Get away from everything for a while. Away from teaching, training, the possibility that if you didn’t get your mutation under control you could be lost to the shadows for good…

That kind of thing. 

He gazed down at you, your mussed hair and twitching features. He loved you. Logan knew that. Two months and he was already certain. It was just saying it, he struggled with. Admitting it out loud. That’s where the problems started. It was like he was cursed, the moment he uttered those three words, some kind of catastrophe would strike and he’d lose everything for good. 

He hoped you knew. Fuck, he hoped you knew. Hoped you knew that with every waking moment, he burned to be near you, seared with the need to touch you. Even innocently. A hand on your knee, an arm around your shoulder, anything. Sure, he’d happily spend the rest of his life with his face between your thighs or his cock submerged in your cunt, but that didn’t seem realistic. And, if nothing else, Logan was a man of realism. 

A sigh escaped your slightly parted lips, eyes fluttering slightly as you started to wake. He brushed the stray hairs from your face, your features scrunching, blinking awake. 

“Good mornin’,” he smiled, and you groaned in response, closing your eyes again and hiding your face in his chest.

“No.” your response was muffled but audible, and he cocked a brow.

“Bad mornin’?”

You shook your head slightly. “No morning. Wake me when it’s midday.”

If there was one thing Logan had learnt about you, it was that you were not a morning person. ‘Too much light’ was your typical excuse, and he couldn’t say he blamed you. He used to drag himself out of bed with the promise of a strong cup of coffee before he became a teacher. He didn’t know why he was shocked to learn you were a night owl, it made a shit ton of sense considering your mutation. Though he chalked it down to the fact that your smile shone like the sun itself.

“Coffee?” He asked, and that silenced your protests. Your clock was still discarded on the floor, but flicking his wrist up in front of his face, he grinned seeing the time. 8 am. Oh, you were going to be furious. Especially since it was a Saturday. 

“What time is it?” you asked, raising your head from his chest and turning your head to your window as if the sun had personally offended you. You had half the mind to storm over to the curtains and snap them closed. If only you hadn’t been so comfortable, you’d really show the sun what for.

“A little after eight…” he said tentatively, and your head whipped back to look at him, face a picture of utter disbelief. 

“You’re fucking joking.”

“Nope, sorry sweetheart, the clock doesn’t lie.” he showed you his wrist with the time, and you groaned in frustration, your forehead hitting his chest in defeat.

“It’s a goddamn Saturday, not even Jubilee is up this early on a Saturday.” You lamented, pulling the covers up and over your head. Logan chuckled slightly, finding your detest for mornings amusing as you hid from the sun. “Fucking curtains not being closed for the fucking light to get in fucking god fucking damnit.”

“Yeah, you tell ‘em.” His hand rested on your covered head in faux protection, feeling you shift beneath the duvet, your angry huff fanning his chest. 

“I will.��� He could almost hear your pout, shuffling forward to poke your head from the covers like the world’s most gorgeous groundhog, the duvet wrapped tightly around your head so he could see only your face. “Did you say coffee?” You asked, and even if you didn’t have the hope of a child being offered a lollypop dancing in your eyes, he still would have nodded. Though with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

Couldn’t appear too keen to bend to your every request.

“What’ll you give me for it?” He smirked, knowing full well there were very few lengths you’d go through to acquire a fresh pot of caffeine in the morning. And your narrowed eyes confirmed that knowledge. 

“I’ll suck you so hard you’ll see fucking stars.”

Logan choked on his own saliva. He didn’t know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t that. “Fuckin’ freak…” he muttered, failing miserably at hiding his smile. You flashed him a toothy grin, knowing you had him in a box. Honestly, you’d do it anyway just for fun and maybe to tease him a little. 

Logan threw back the covers on his side of the bed, waiting for you to move so he could sit up and start his coffee-making mission. Only, you didn’t move, just blinked at him expectantly. “You gotta move, hun.” 

“Why can’t you be telekinetic, so inconvenient.” You grumbled, reluctantly releasing him from your arms and rolling onto your other side, only to huff once again as sunlight invaded your eyes. “Fucking sun!”

Logan watched with no small degree of admiration as you angrily threw one of your pillows and the window, eyes tracking the trajectory as it hit the curtain with a slight thump before falling to the floor. “You showed him.” He quipped, receiving a small kick to his side. 

You looked over your shoulder as he stood, watching his naked body shamelessly. Shit, he was so fucking hot. Your mouth almost watered as he stretched his arms above his head, his back flexing, muscles tensing. You sat up a little against the headboard, sandwiching your thumb between your teeth as he flexed his back again, and this time you knew it was on purpose.

“Enjoyin’ yourself?” he didn’t even need to look to know your eyes were on him. He could feel them, for fuck’s sake. And your maniacal little laugh confirmed it all.

“You’re nice to look at, excuse me for finding you attractive.” There wasn’t even a hint of guilt in your voice. You really were a freak weren’t you? 

Logan slowly turned to face you, watching as your eyes dragged up and down his body, your mischievous smile only widening. He cast his gaze skyward, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Ya done?”

You clicked your tongue. “Not even close. But, I really want a coffee, so I guess I am for now.” You shrugged as if you hadn’t just been fucking the shit out of him with your eyes. Logan huffed a laugh, shaking his head in fond disbelief. As if you couldn’t be any more endearing. Yes, you were a grumpy little shit in the mornings, but you were his grumpy little shit. And he had a sneaking suspicion you might feel exactly the same about him. 

You rolled your eyes as he shrugged on his singlet, pulling up his briefs and jeans before looking around the room, unable to locate his belt. He spun in a slow circle, eyes scanning the floor. He swore it had fallen with his jeans. “Have you seen my–”

Hearing the telltale clink of metal, Logan looked back at you holding up the leather by his buckle. That was not where he thought he’d left it. He raised a brow of questioning, and you shrugged again. “I had it on hand. In case…” you trailed off and his eyes widened in scandal, brow furrowed.

“In case of what?!” 

“Just, in case.” You pursed your lips in an attempt to hide your filthy grin and failed spectacularly. Logan barked a laugh of disbelief, skirting around the bed and snatching the belt from your hands, tossing it on the covers as he trapped you in his arms.

“You,” he started, before pressing his lips to yours. “Are such,” he kissed you again. “A freak.” He finished, moulding his mouth against your own in a lingering, lingering dance. You giggled into his lips, your hands finding the soft strands of his hair. “Only two months in and you already want me to tie you up?” He drew back with a smirk, just far enough to see the perversity in your eyes.

“Who said anything about tying me up…?”

He blinked. How many fucking surprises were you going to spring on him this morning? “Hate to break it to ya darlin’, but if that’s your intention then a thin strip of leather ain’t gonna cut it.” 

Your irises sparkled with the realisation that he wasn’t saying no. “Well, in that case, I’ll just have to get something stronger.” You murmured, closing the gap between the two of you once again before breaking it almost immediately. “Maybe some of those metal zip ties… or just a really thick wire. I dunno, how strong are you?”

“Real fuckin’ strong.”

Your brows furrowed in thought, and he ruffled the top of your head. “Don’t strain yourself.”

You gaped in mock offence. “So rude. Go get coffee, I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

“Weren’t sayin’ that earlier, were ya?”

“Yeah, but now your shirt’s on.” 

“Face not good enough for ya?”

“Not when it’s insulting me, no.”

“And when it’s doing this?” Logan leaned into your neck, his tongue darting out to lick along the side of your throat, teeth gently nipping at your soft, bruised skin from last night. You gasped a strangled moan, still sensitive from where he’d left his marks on you. 

“That’s more forgivable.” You breathed as he drew back, a smug smirk plastered across his face. “Go, before I drag you back into bed and have my freaky little way with you, belt and all.” You wiggled your brows and he chuckled darkly, as if anything you said could be seen as a threat. But he acquiesced nonetheless, feeding his belt through the loopholes of his jeans, securing the clasp. 

“I’ll be back in a few.” He placed a kiss to your forehead and you hummed a soft, contented smile before he turned away and headed out down the hallway. You were right, it was far too early for anyone to be awake on a Saturday. As far as he could hear, nobody was up yet, which just meant he got a good few more hours to spend with you before the rest of the mansion started to think you were either dead or missing. You weren’t a morning person, but that didn’t mean you weren’t up most mornings, just with a face like thunder. 

He loosened a contented sigh, cracking open the door to the kitchen before crossing to the kettle and flicking the switch, listening to the low hiss of the water heating up before he pulled open the overhead cupboards to retrieve two mugs, a glass one for him and your favourite one for you. Logan realised with no small degree of shame that he didn’t actually know your birthday, and come to think of it, nobody else had mentioned it either. He hoped it hadn’t already been and gone, seeing your small collection of mugs had given him the perfect idea. 

He rifled around for a bit, before locating the larger, cáfetier. It was easily big enough for two cups and then some. Popping open the steel lid to the coffee grounds, he spooned four heaps into the glass, guestimating the correct amount. Two heaps each seemed about right…

It had been too long since his biggest worry was something as domestic as how many heaps of coffee should he put in a cáfetier for two. It gave him a sense of peace, despite the events of three days ago. And with nobody else up and about yet, it really did feel like the two of you were alone in the world. 

And honestly, he’d be fine with that.

At least, it did feel like, before the fantasy was shattered by approaching footsteps. Logan groaned internally, knowing that gait and heft anywhere. He didn’t even need to turn around to know it was Scott. Why, of all people, did it have to be fucking Scott.

“Logan… I didn’t know you’d be in here so early.” His tone was curt, stunted almost as if he was allergic to being nice. Logan simply grunted, pouring the freshly boiled water into the cáfetier and placing the lid on. 

“I was just leavin’.” He responded gruffly, hooking his fingers around the two mug handles and carefully lifting the coffee pot, making for a quick escape before Scott cleared his throat. 

“I uh… Look man, I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Logan paused, giving Scott a sidelong glance, a silent suggestion for him to continue. “About what happened the other day. The Professor was right, it wasn’t the time for us to fight.”

Logan grit his teeth. “That’s what you’re apologising for? Not for suggesting we should just get rid of her?” he snarled, his fingers tightening on the mug handles. Scott sighed, running a stressed hand through his hair. 

“It’s not– It’s not that simple, Logan. She’s done this before, and last time it resulted in the death of one of our teammates. Jade was so kind. And she–”

“Loved her, yeah I know.” Logan finished, and Scott started in surprise.

“She told you that?” he asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

“I’m startin’ to think you’ve never actually had a conversation with her.” He bit, keeping his self-control intact. Though he didn’t know how annoyed you’d be if he told you he’d smashed your favourite mug over Scott’s head. 

“She was my teammate before you were, Logan. I– It’s not easy to be the one to make these decisions, or even suggest them. But sometimes we need to do things to protect other people. You know that.”

Logan nodded in confirmation. He did know that. He knew that better than anyone. “And you should know that there is nothing I won’t do to protect her. So you come at her again, spoutin’ bullshit about neutralising a threat, and there’ll be no Professor to stop me from tearin’ you apart. Got it?” He snarled, subconsciously baring his teeth. Scott sighed again. It wasn’t uncommon for Logan to threaten his life, when they first met it was almost on a daily basis. 

“I don’t want to neutralise her. I just want her under control,” he explained wearily. “Sure, the first time this happened and she killed Jade, I’d been the one to suggest that. But we were scared. We were damn terrified of her. It was only thanks to Jean that she came back.”

Logan paused for a moment. He knew Jean was keeping something under wraps. “How? What exactly did she say?”

Scott shrugged, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. “No clue. She wouldn’t tell me. She told me to ask the Professor, but we were all a little caught up in grief to ask questions at that point, and by the time we’d all managed to move on, it didn’t seem to matter anymore,” Scott paused, evidently debating his next words. “But she responded to you. We all saw that. So, what I’m trying to say, is keep doing whatever it is you’re doing. None of us want her gone, Logan. We couldn’t help her, but maybe you can.”

It was the closest thing to a compliment Logan had ever received from the man, and he honestly didn’t know what to do with it. So he nodded in silent acknowledgement. It wasn’t exactly an olive branch, but something had definitely shifted in their dynamic. But before he could contemplate it further, Scott piped up again. “I’m happy for you two, by the way. You really complement each other. Or maybe I’m just happy you haven’t been making eyes at Jean for the last two months.”

Nevermind. He hated the prick. “Go fuck yourself, Scott,” he uttered with disinterest, and if he had either of his hands free, he would have flipped him off as he left. Heading back up the stairs, Logan wondered when it would ever just stop. When everything would finally come to a halt and he could have just one day for the two of you and not think about anything catastrophic happening. Yet here he was, climbing the flight of stairs up to the third floor, contemplating your mortality. He fucking hated it. 

And he was having such a nice morning, too. 

Shouldering open the door to your room, he was greeted by an empty space and the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, steam rolling out of the small gap where you’d left the door open a crack. Maybe he could still salvage this morning after all. 

Settling down the coffee and mugs on your nightstand, he left the grounds to soak in the water before briskly stripping off his clothes, leaving them in a collected pile at the foot of your bed and slowly opening the bathroom door a little wider. It was like a sauna in there, steam fogging up the mirror, the walls sweating. You hummed a soft tune, one he recognised after a beat.

It was the same song he’d asked you to dance to. 

His heart inflated as he opened the steamed-up door to step in behind you, wasting no time in wrapping his arms around your waist to your small jump and gasp of surprise.

“‘S’just me, don’t worry,” he soothed, burying his face in the crook of your slick neck. Your hair hung limp, freshly washed as you leaned back into him, holding his arms against you.

“Mmm, was just thinking about you.” You hummed, and if Logan wasn’t already half hard at the sight of your dripping naked body, that low, sultry tone of your voice would have been enough. 

“Yeah?” he loosened his grip so you could turn around to face him, your arms slinking up his body and around his neck. “What about me?” he asked, biting back his groan as you swapped places with him, warm water cascading down his back. 

“‘Bout last night… all the things I didn’t get to do…” You teased his lips with whispers of kisses, barely making contact as you held his gaze hostage, your eyes darkening with each passing moment. He felt lightheaded already when you bypassed his mouth altogether, your teeth instantly biting down against his collarbone. 

“Like what?” he strained, his hands skirting up and down your waist, your lips trailing up the hollow of his throat, over to the side of his neck where you sucked a harsh bruise that, to your irritation, faded instantly. You knew doing it again was a losing battle, but that didn’t stop you from sinking your teeth into his flesh, feeling his rising groan on your tongue as you smoothed over the unmarked skin. Your hands braced against his chest as you rose up on your tip toes to breath into his ear.

“I wasn’t joking earlier.” Was all you muttered, nibbling at his earlobe and leaving the side of his head tingling before you travelled lower down the curve of his fuzzy jaw, back down the path you’d carved for yourself, pressing kisses down his chest, your nails lightly scratching down either side of his ribs, following the curve of his hip bone and to his hard cock. 

Logan inhaled as you took him in your wet palms, squeezing around his shaft, delivering pinches with your teeth around one of his nipples, clamping down around when you teased his already leaking tip.

“Shit…” he gasped as you sucked against his shockingly sensitive bud, the scent of your own arousal heightened in the steamy heat, driving him mad with need. Releasing him from your mouth, you giggled softly as he thrust into your grip, his hands sliding from your waist to your hair as you sank to your knees before him, making sure you kept eye contact. 

  Sticking out your tongue, you waited for what felt like an eternity to him, before you delivered a small kitten lick to the underside of his cock. His jaw fell open as he watched you, all your attention now stuck on teasing the fuck out of him, not going any further than small, short swipes. He didn’t want to push you but holy shit were you testing his self-control. 

“Fuckin’ tease.” He huffed, gritting his teeth when your malleable tongue traced one of the thick, pulsing veins down the side of his shaft. His fingers tightened in your hair, though not to move you, rather just to feel you beneath his fingertips. 

Logan’s head fell back as your lips enveloped his sensitive tip, and he realised he would happily drown in this shower if it meant you didn’t stop, water washing away the sweat from his brow, bouncing off his closed eyes. A gravelly moan bubbled from his chest, echoing slightly off the walls. “Jus’ like that, baby,” he whispered almost to himself as you took him further, your pointed tongue dragging down the underside of his cock, one of your hands pumping what you couldn’t fit, the other braced against his hip to hold him still. 

You bobbed your head slowly, tasting the distinct musk and salt of his ecstasy as you flattened your tongue, hollowing your cheeks and humming lowly. The bathroom became an orchestra of gravelly groans and airy gasps, all drowned out from the outside world by the running water. Sinking into a comfortable rhythm, you looked up at his head thrown back, one of his hands had moved from your hair to the wall as he all but leaned against it.

Opening your throat, you slipped him further in your mouth until your nose was nestled comfortably against the coarse hairs at his naval. There you held him for a moment, swallowing around his cock and he fucking whimpered at the feeling of your throat squeezing him. You gagged slightly, and Logan looked down, his jaw slack as he took in possibly one of the hottest things he’d ever seen in his over a century of being alive. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and he made to pull away to give you a moment to breathe. But the moment he shifted, your nails dug sharply into either side of his hips, holding him against you. 

He stuttered moaning of your name and you knew he was close, so you hummed around him again, the vibrations of your voice travelling his throbbing length. The hand in your hair tightened as he slowly thrust his hips into your wanting mouth, gently fucking your face. 

“Jesus Christ you feel good…” he uttered breathlessly, tensing his jaw as he approached his peak. You smiled wickedly around his cock, dragging your slick tongue down that same vein you were paying attention to earlier as he moved back, your teeth ever so slightly scraping atop his length, and it was his undoing. 

Pleasure flooded his senses, fire coursing through his blood as he went to pull from your mouth, only to have you angrily shove your head forward, swallowing again around his member as he threw his head back to embrace the stream of the shower. “Fuck, fuck!” He stuttered a long, drawn-out groan as he spilled into your mouth, painting your throat white as his hips bucked uncontrollably, the tips of his claws poking through his knuckles as he fought to keep control, stars dancing behind his eyes.

The waves of ecstasy receded with each pulse, leaving him dizzy and gasping, his head falling forward to catch his breath and steady himself. Looking up from your knees, you drew back, leaving a lingering kiss on the head of his cock, your hands gently squeezing his thighs. 

“You okay?” You asked, rising to your feet, palm softly cupping the underside of his jaw and moving his face to look at you. He was stunned, dazed almost, as he wordlessly searched your eyes for an answer to a silent question. You laughed a little, and he drew you in with a thumb and forefinger pinching your chin, claiming your mouth with his lips in a delicately passionate kiss. The way he tasted himself on your tongue almost had him hardening again. 

“You almost suffocated yourself and you’re asking if I’m okay?” he asked with subdued disbelief, and you grinned wildly. 

“You seemed out of it for a moment, wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you.” You responded with airy innocence, and Logan huffed a laugh.

“Murder attempt number two. Not a great track record, huh?” He teased lightly, and you narrowed your eyes at him. But before you could come up with some witty retort, he sank to his knees before you, throwing a leg over his shoulder so bruskly you had to steady yourself against the wall. “Fuck you’re so hard to ignore when you smell this fuckin’ sweet, darlin’.” He murmured, before wasting no time in devouring your cunt until you were whimpering his name and gushing all over his tongue. 

Consider the morning salvaged.

“This is going to be insanely strong coffee.” You called from the bedroom as Logan dried his hair with a spare towel, draping it across his shoulders before padding out the join you. “Someone didn’t want to leave the shower.” You shot pointedly with a small grin. He simply shrugged in response, trying not to be too disappointed that you’d thrown on a baggy t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. 

“Not sure how I’m to blame for that.” He crossed the room to stand behind you, towel wrapped dangerously low around his hips and circled his arms around your waist, setting his chin atop your head. “You started it.” 

You leaned back into his chest, basking in the warmth of his embrace. It was these little moments of soft domesticity that you craved with him. Yeah, the sex was great. Mind-blowing, in fact, and teaching and training with him was a fantastic excuse for the two of you to spend time with each other, but it was these moments you valued. Swaying in the kitchen to whatever song blared from the radio, your head resting on his lap as you dozed off to some shitty reality tv-show, or vice versa. These were the moments you’d remember when you were old and grey and he was–

Still looking gorgeous and young. Fuck, you hadn’t thought about that. How had that only just occurred to you? You pushed the thought into the furthest corners of your mind. Now was not the time to be entertaining such things. 

“Why did you take so long, by the way? I was halfway through the intended length of my shower by the time you got back.” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact as you went to pour the coffee into the two mugs, your heart expanding when you saw he’d picked your favourite one. The one Kitty gifted you. 

“Ran into Scott in the kitchen…” You snorted at the irritation in his tone, clearly not a fond memory. 

“What’d he have to say for himself?” A hand extended behind you, clasping the top of the glass mug between your fingertips as you handed it to him, pouring yourself a mug of your own before you turned to sit on the bed.

“Thanks. He was just runnin’ his mouth, to be honest with ya. Though he did apologise, which felt weird.” Logan returned to his side of the bed, sitting up against the headboard and raising his arm as a silent request for you to join him. You shuffled closer, ducking beneath his arm and cosying into his side, making sure to hold your full mug of coffee steady. 

“He did? What for?” 

“We argued the whole training thing. He was apologising for the timing of it.” 

You snorted a laugh into your mug. “Trust Scott to apologise for the thing that mattered least. But it’s a start, I guess. He say anything else?”

“Not really. Said he was happy for us and that we complemented each other, which also felt weird.” He didn’t think you’d be thrilled about the Jean comment, so he left that in the past like he had his feelings for her. 

“Huh. Strangely nice of him.”

“‘S what I thought.” 

You sipped on your drink, pleasantly surprised it was still warm, savouring the bitter-roasted flavour. “Yeah, a little too long, think the beans are a bit burnt, but it’s still good.”

“How’dya know the beans are burnt?” 

“You can taste it. Or I can. I was a barista for a while, dontcha know?”

He raised a brow. No, he didn’t know that. “How many jobs have you had?” He asked, impressed that you had such a wide range of skills. You thought for a moment, it was actually a pretty good question. 

“Ya know what? I have no idea. What’s funny is that I never remember quitting them either. I’d just wake up one day and bam! New job. I guess I liked to bounce around a lot. Still do.” You elbowed him, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively and he groaned in exhaustion. 

“Terrible.”

“You liked it.” You stuck out your tongue and he huffed in amusement. Yeah, he did. And he wasn’t about to deny it.

Logan paused for a moment, knowing the next topic he wanted to talk to you about was likely going to be a sensitive one. You hadn’t told him for a reason, and if you didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push you, but he wanted to let you know that he knew. “Can I see your wrist…?”

Predictably, you shot from his side, muttering a curse as your coffee sloshed from your mug and onto your hand. It wasn’t like you’d made an effort to hide your scars, it was more that you banked on the fact that people, generally, were too afraid to ask. But you should have guessed Logan of all people wouldn’t shy away from something like that. Not where you were concerned anyway. 

Tentatively, you set your mug down on the nightstand, turning back to him and offering one of your wrists. He did the same, shifting to set his own mug down before slowly taking your outstretched hand in his own, inspecting the deep, faded scar with the pad of his thumb. “When?” He asked gently.

“Years ago. It’s all kind of a blur really, and I don’t remember much of it. I just– I was terrified of being a mutant and couldn’t see a way out. I think my brother found me, and took me to a hospital. I don’t know why they’re still there, honestly. I’ve used my mutation countless times since, but I guess scars are as part of the mind as they are the body. Or something like that.” It was the only explanation you had for the marks littering your body, not just the ones on your wrists, but your chest, thighs, and neck. You were a scrappy kid, always picking fights with the wrong people. 

Logan brought your wrist up to his lips, ghosting featherlight kisses down the raised line. “I’m so sorry.” He murmured, and your heart bled. He had nothing to apologise for, you hoped he knew that. 

“‘S’okay. I… learned to accept what I am. Rowan helped me with that. That’s his name, don’t know if I ever told you. After he was done being mad at me, that is. Not that I blame him. I don’t know what I would have done had the roles been reversed.” 

“You got on well, didn’t ya?”

You sighed. “Yes and no. We did when we were kids, but as we got older we started to drift apart. I think the grief over our parents changed him, and he got more cautious, whereas I got more reckless. We would fight a lot, but that didn’t mean I loved him any less. I just wish I could remember what our last argument was about. We were so fucking mad at each other, I left and deleted his fucking number.” You huffed a sigh of past frustration, turning to retrieve your mug of coffee. 

That was news to him. He didn’t know your parents had died. He knew they weren’t around during your teen years, but he didn’t know they’d died. But the way you just casually mentioned it told him it was a topic that didn’t need discussing right now. 

You settled back against him, his arm draping over your shoulders, your head dropping to the dip in between his collarbone and neck as silence settled back over you. You appreciated the way he didn’t press you for more. You doubted you’d be satisfied with such a brazen explanation, and you knew he most likely had more questions for you, so when he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, you smiled against his skin. 

“‘M gonna take you out today.”

“Like on a date or with a gun?”

You felt his snort of laughter against your cheek. “Have you always been this dark?”

“I’m a shadow weaver, comes with the territory.” You responded nonchalantly. 

“‘S that was you’re calling yourself now?”

“Nah. I still kinda like Phantom. But who knows, maybe I’ll change my mind someday.” You raised your head to take another sip of your coffee, grimacing as the liquid had gone from piping hot to lukewarm.

“On a date, dumbass. Thought we could get away for a while.” He brushed a strand of your hair back from your face, smoothing over your eyebrow with his thumb. 

“What’d ya have in mind?” You asked, leaning into his touch a fraction. 

“Take a drive, head to one of the lakes in the area, grab a drink after. Things normal couples do.”

You huffed in amusement. “We’re not a normal couple, Lo’.”

He smirked slightly. “Yeah, I know. You’re a freak.”

“And you’re not? Mister ‘I can smell your arousal and it gets me going’.” You poked the centre of his chest and he flicked your forehead in retaliation. 

“You up for it?” 

“I get to spend the day away from the kids and visit a super scenic lake with my second favourite mutant in the mansion? Followed by an evening of drinking in a bar? You might as well have asked me to marry you here and now.” 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, we’re n– wait second favourite?”

You nodded, looking at him like the answer was obvious. “Well yeah, Kitty bought me my favourite mug so she reserves favourite person rights.” 

“S’that how it works?”

“Bit slow on the uptake aren’t ya?” Logan pushed you off him, careful not to shove you too hard so you spilt any more coffee on yourself.

“I take it back. We’re gonna spend the day here.” You gasped dramatically, setting your drained mug to the side before trying to cosy back up to him, only for his arm to hold you at bay.

“I lied, I lied! You’re incredibly smart and quick and my favourite person I’ve ever met ever!” You exclaimed through fits of laughter as you tried to fight through the wall of sinewy muscle. 

“Didn’t hear ya. Come again?” He held you off with one hand, the other effortlessly raising his mug of coffee to his lips. It was a testament to his strength how he could keep you back with just one arm.

Maybe metal cable ties weren’t strong enough after all…

You conceded, flopping down onto the pillows next to you, bubbles of laughter still popping from your chest. “When do you wanna leave? What time is it actually?” you asked, taking him by the wrist only to see he wasn’t wearing his watch. Must have taken it off to shower.

“Lemme check, hold on.” Logan leaned down off the bed where the poor alarm clock still lay completely abandoned, retrieving your lamp at the same time and setting them both on the nightstand. “Just gone nine. Leave in an hour? I think it’s roughly three hours by car, but Scott’s bike shaves off at least half an hour so…” He shrugged with a cheeky grin, and you laughed at the mischief in his eyes.

“Gives us around six hours to ourselves, minus the journey. Sounds perfect to me.” Being unable to withstand a lack of physical contact with you for any longer than three minutes, Logan lifted his arm for you again, and you returned to the home you’d built next to his heart.

“We should get out more…” he lamented softly, his hand holding your shoulder, thumb stroking your soft skin beneath the short sleeve of your t-shirt. 

“If we had the time, that would be great.” You sighed, feeling his slight despondency. If only your circumstances had been different, and you were just a normal couple that could do normal couples things. But now, you had to teach younger mutants how not to accidentally kill the wrong people, and how to effectively kill the right people. Not only that, but you had to train to ensure you didn’t accidentally kill yourself in the process.

Fuck’s sake.

A fist knocked at the door three times, and you braced for Kitty to simply let herself in. But the longer the silence after lingered, the surer you became that, whoever was on the other side of the door, wasn’t Kitty.

“Come in!” You called, not making any efforts to obscure either yourself of Logan. The whole mansion knew by now, it wasn’t like you were trying to keep it a secret. The door opened to reveal Ororo, her white hair neatly tied back from her face. 

“Morning! Just wanted to– oh. Hey Logan…” she eyed the two of you suspiciously and you shared a glance with him. The fact he was only dressed in a towel and you in a loose tee and boxer briefs didn’t exactly help your case of innocence. “Right… anyway, I guess this saves me two trips. Xavier has a conference in Connecticut, Jean’s going with him. They’re giving a talk on starting up a new school for both mutants and humans to start coexisting, so you’re both on babysitting duty.”

Your heart sank. “What the hell are you and Scott doing?!” You asked accusingly, sitting up from Logan’s chest. Storm’s brows pinched like she seemed genuinely remorseful this was how things had to be.

“Tying up some loose ends for Kurt and Hank before picking them up. They’ve been away for a while now, but they’re back today. That and Scott has some errands to run, so we’ll be back late.” She explained sheepishly, and you groaned in frustration. The one day off you thought you could have and you’ve been stuck with babysitting.

The gods really like shitting in your dinner, don’t they?

“Alright… but you owe us.” Logan piped up, and you whipped your head to him in exasperation. He read your face instantly. ‘Are we really going to do this?’

‘Like we have a choice.’ he silently communicated back, and he knew you’d understood what he’d said when you sighed heavily, dragging a hand down the side of your face.

“Fucking fine, but Logan’s right, you owe us. And I was wondering where those two had got to, how long’ve they been away?”

Ororo loosened a breath of relief. “Thank you. And next Saturday? All your’s, I promise. As for Kurt and Hank, around a year or so? Xavier sent him off on a private mission not even we knew about until a couple months ago, just before you came back. We’re going to pick them up just to make sure they get here safely.” She didn’t seem too confident about wherever Nightcrawler and Beast had been.

“That dangerous, huh?” As if the mere mention of a dangerous mission set him on edge, Logan’s arm wrapped back around your shoulders protectively. Neither of you had been required for one since your return, and he was honestly dreading the day. 

“Kurt’ll explain more when he gets back I’m sure, but yeah, that dangerous. Hank doesn’t like to go on missions like these, but apparently, Charles needed his diplomatic expertise and Kurt’s quick getaways, so who knows?” Ororo shrugged, before looking pointedly at Logan’s bare chest and then your bare legs. “Do I even wanna know what you guys were up to before I knocked…?”

You laughed, waving off her concerns. “Having a coffee and chatting about the day we did have planned before being landed with babysitting duty, nothing exciting don’t you worry.”

“Unless you wanna talk about the shower…” You shot Logan a scandalised look, mouth and eyes wide in utter shock.

“Ew, no, I’m good, see you later.” Ororo shielded her eyes as she left as if she could unsee the mental image Logan had just planted there. As soon as the door shut you smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

“What was that for?”

“Did it look like she was gonna leave anytime soon to you?” You took a moment to think about it, and Logan’s expression shifted to self-satisfaction. “Exactly.”

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. You offered him a little, defeated smile. “Guess our day off will have to wait.”

He leaned forward, tucking you into his side before relaxing back against the headboard. “I’ll take you out soon, ‘kay? Promise.”

“Like, on a date or w–” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before he clapped his hand over your mouth, stopping you midway through.

“Enough. It wasn’t funny the first time, why did you think it would be funny again?” 

You stuck your tongue out to lick his palm, a foolproof method of removing someone’s hand from your mouth. Or, at least it had been foolproof in the past. But you raised your eyes to his face, and he looked at you with disinterest. “Not gonna work, firefly.” 

You adored that nickname. He never explained where it came from or why he started it, but it didn’t matter to you. As long as he never stopped. 

Thick black boots pounded the floorboards as you raced through the hallways of the mansion, vibrations humming up your legs with every step, your breath like fire in your lungs. Shouts and screams echoed in every corner, flashes of torchlight illuminating cones of white against the walls like searchlights. The Professor was away. Why was the Professor always fucking away?

Sliding to a halt as you heard footsteps around the corner, you quickly slipped into the shadows, hushed voices muffled as if underwater as you jumped to the ceiling. Light separated the shadows, and four silhouetted figures walked cautiously beneath you. You could make out the outlines of their guns as the torch shifted before the hallway was again drenched in darkness as they continued their search.

Morphing to the floor, you reformed from the black, stealing a quick glance behind you to where they’d disappeared. There were no students that way, Logan and Scott had made sure of that. The moment Logan had sensed something was off, the evacuation had begun, escorting the students silently from their beds and through the hidden channel behind the panel wall. You knew there were stragglers, but you focused on the knowledge Ororo and Kurt were with them.

How had things gotten so out of hand so goddamn fast? You’d woken up on Logan’s chest this morning feeling like a whole new mutant, comfort wrapped around your heart like an embrace. Now, the opposite couldn’t be more true. You cursed the fact that Jean followed Xavier around like a lost soul. You could really use her help right about now. 

A piercing, shooting pain rushed through your head as you clamped your hands down over your ears, crouching to the floor. Your eardrums throbbed as you recognised that ability, gut knotting at the realisation that Theresa was still inside somewhere, her sonic scream sending waves of agony through your mind before it stopped abruptly. Fuck.

With a new sense of urgency, you sprinted through the entrance hall, taking the stairs two at a time. If you’d been a little more focused on your surroundings and less hellbent on saving the girl, perhaps you would have noticed the line of guns pointed in your direction. One moment you were racing full speed down the first-floor hallway, the next you’d frozen solid as torches flared simultaneously, erasing any easily accessible shadow. You braced, knowing after they “killed” you, they’d turn away and leave you to sink into the darkness and reform. 

But they held fire, your strained pants the only sound in the eerie silence of the bedroom corridor. 

“They were right…” you whipped your head back to the voice behind you, knees bent in anticipation as two figures stepped from the room you knew to be Jubilee’s, and you prayed to whatever sick, twisted gods above that Logan or Scott had got to her first. The torches behind you revealed a man you thought to be in his thirties, a pair of thick, round glasses perched on the end of his crooked nose. He was taller than whoever was next to him and unnaturally thin. “We missed you dearly.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Come again?” You spat, eyes darting between the two.

The man just laughed heartily, opening his arms as if offering you a hug. “Of course, how could I be so rude? I’ve read the reports… Subject Five, if you could be so kind.”

Panic surged through your body as Subject Five stepped forward, a golden glow emanating from beneath its clothes. Your eyes closed instinctively as the hallway lit up as though the sun had risen, your hands flying to shield your face. 

“That’s a bit better. You look good, Eight, but you always were the resilient one.” You were barely listening, still caught up in the dawning revelation that you knew that mutation. You’d know that mutation anywhere. “We’re here to take you home. Subject One isn’t here, sadly, so I’m afraid you’re just going to have to take my word for it, but we really have missed you.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you managed to grit, your eyes adjusting to the light as you cracked them open a little.

“I have to say, when I received word you were a teacher now, it almost made me laugh. You hated kids! Why on earth would you surround yourself with them? But then it dawned on me. A mutant school. If only my great-grandfather had thought of that at the start.” He continued as if you were engaging in nothing but a pleasant conversation in the park.

“Ya know, for someone who talks so much, you really are saying very little.” you quipped, finding a nugget of solace in the fact that this man didn’t want you dead, at least as far as you could tell. “Let’s start with introductions, yeah?”

He chuckled again. “You’re absolutely right. My name is Doctor Kreva. This man here, why you should already know him, even without Subject One to help out.” he was almost condescending in his tone, and you hated the fact he was right. You did know the mutant. And your heart bled for him. What the fuck was he doing here? Why was he raiding the school with this chucklefuck?

“Means nothing to me. The fuck do you want?” you snarled, to his further amusement.

“Were you not listening, darling? We want to take you home. My father was so stupid for letting you go,” it was the first emotion you’d seen on his face beyond sadistic joy. His eyes filled with frustrated hatred. “He never had the stomach for science. And after Seven somehow managed to kill my mother, a problem you so kindly took care of, he started to pity you all.” He spat like the word was venomous before he took a breath of collection. “Seven years it’s taken to track you all down and rebuild what he destroyed. Seven long years. But we’re nearly there. All we’re waiting for is you.”

Your breath got stuck in your throat. Seven years ago, you and Jade were picked up by Jean and Ororo on the side of that highway. How could he possibly know any of this? “You got the wrong gal, sorry bub.” Oh, you’d been spending way too much time with Logan. Dr. Kreva sighed, holding out his hand expectantly. Like a king’s attendance, one of the guards stepped up from behind you, making sure to keep his shadow far from your reach, before he slung a heavy pack from his shoulder, dropping it into Kreva’s waiting hand. 

The doctor took a knee, removing one of the thickest folder’s you think you’d ever seen, and holding it up. It was old. Incredibly old. Whatever colour it had been originally had faded to a pale grey, the edges frayed and splitting. He placed it on the floor face up, and your eyes caught sight of a label, though it was too far away for you to read accurately. 

“Everything you think you know is a lie, Phantom. Didn’t you think it strange your memories are jumbled? Important moments of your life scrambled or forgotten. Loose ends never tied, arguments never resolved? But this, this holds everything. Your entire life, in one folder. All eighty-two years you were with us.”

You scrunched your face, slightly offended. “I’m thirty-two, asshole.” You spat back, your skin starting to burn under such intense lighting, those threads in your body begging to be released into the shadows to escape. 

“So that’s the age he decided before releasing you. Interesting. Well, I’ll have Subject One rectify that when you’re back with us. Tranq her. Now. Subject Three, begin evacuation.” Before you could even turn around to defend yourself, a sharp pain spiked the side of your neck. You froze, blood draining from your face as you realised you’d been pierced with a needle. Heartbeat rising, you fought the urge to throw up. You didn’t know where your fear stemmed from, but you assumed it was when you were taken for blood tests as a child.

If… if that even happened. Because if you were to believe anything this dickwad said, maybe you didn’t even have a childhood. 

Your vision started to swim, and you angrily blinked the grogginess away. “Rowan… wh– what’re y– what’re you doing…?” You could barely finish the sentence as the tranquiliser entered your bloodstream, taking quick effect on your mind as you struggled to stay upright, your knees buckling as you threw your arms out to catch yourself. Shadows. You needed a shadow. But there was nothing to morph into. Nothing you could reach to rid yourself of this feeling. Everything became muffled, as if you were underwater, only barely able to hear a gut-wrenching roar before your vision went dark, and you were out cold. 

Logan raced up the stairs, fury pumping through his blood. He’d been looking everywhere for you, crashing through doorways and slicing through skin and muscle to find you. Hank had mentioned he’d seen you sprinting toward Theresa’s room after she’d screamed, and he didn’t wait to hear the rest of what he’d said before he took off at a run. He crested the first flight just in time to see three figures halfway down the lit hallway, obscuring your unconscious body. He didn’t even take a minute to acknowledge the light was emanating from the figure on the right, rather than the lights themselves. The man in the centre turned just as Logan bellowed a cry of pure, unadulterated rage, offering him a curious tilt of his head before the one one the left took hold of each other their shoulders, and they disappeared before his eyes.

He didn’t care. They were gone and you remained. That was all that mattered. Racing to your side, he saw the cause of your condition, pulling the tranquiliser out from your neck and cautiously lifting you into his lap, checking your pulse just to be sure. 

You were alive. Your heart was still beating. He almost shook with relief. 

“It’s okay, I got you firefly, I got you.” He soothed, brushing your hair back and cradling you against his chest. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

“Logan?” He turned his head back down the hallway, heightened sight able to make out Kurt and Scott by the stairs, Kurt wringing his hands with worry. “Is she–”

“She’s fine, just out cold. Theresa’s still in her room if you wanna make sure she’d okay.” He gestured to the room a few doors down, and Kurt jogged passed him, pausing as he saw the file on the ground. 

His eyes widened slightly, gaze flickering from the file name to your unconscious form, then back again, before looking at Logan. Crouching down, he flipped the folder so it was facing him, before continuing to Theresa’s room.

Logan froze as he read the scrawled, ink-smudged handwriting on the front of the file, his blood turning to ice in his veins. 

NLMO. Subject Eight. “Phantom”.

Logan paced as he waited outside the med-bay, chewing at the cuticles of his thumb. Scott, Jean and Charles were having a heated debate in the room to his right, he could hear raised voices even with the doors closed. Ororo and Kurt had chosen to wait with him, Kurt crouched against the wall opposite and Ororo fixed her hair every two minutes. A nervous twitch, he noticed.

Since Jean was currently held up in the furious discussion, Hank had offered to perform the routine checkups on all the mutants they’d managed to tranquilise, yourself included. It had been four hours since the attack, and he still hadn’t shown his blue furry face. Then again, there were quite a few students who’d been targeted, not just you. 

The meeting to his right went quiet before the doors slid open and Scott stormed out, a face like thunder. Logan couldn’t blame him, he had his own anger on a tight leash, simmering just below the surface. What the fuck was going on? Who the hell were you? Did Charles know about this? Did Jean? Was that why she’d been so strange lately after the training incident? The idea of the two of them knowing and not telling anyone made him want to tear apart the whole fucking mansion, and it seemed Scott was on the same wavelength as him for once. 

“Scott wait!” Jean called after him, running after the furious man, but not before casting Logan a cautious glance. He just glared at her in response, before she hurried to catch up with Scott.

“You should have told me, Jean. I’m supposed to lead this goddamn team, how can I do that without knowing who I’m dealing with. No wonder she can’t control her fucking mutation, and I’ve been made to look like a monster for wanting the situation sorted when you knew about this the whole time!” He heard Scott rage, and it was the first time he’d actually heard him raise his voice to her. It would have almost been refreshing if he hadn’t just answered one of Logan’s most burning questions. 

She did know about it. Oh, he was going to have a little chat with her later about that. 

There was a beat before Charles wheeled from the room, his face a grim picture. He loosened a breath upon seeing the three of them still waiting, his eyes lingering on Logan, the file held in his lap. Logan grit his teeth.

“Did you know?” Was all he asked, and Charles said nothing, moving his gaze to the med-bay doors. That just pissed him off further. “Did. You. Know?” he spat every word like venom, balling his fists in an attempt to keep his anger in check. 

“Yes,” Charles replied softly, as if speaking any louder would set him off. But Logan didn’t need him to raise his voice. That was all he needed to hear for his trust in the Professor to shatter completely. “Some memories are better off forgotten, Logan. You of all people know that.”

“Not her entire life!” He clamoured, causing both Ororo and Kurt to jump a little in surprise. He took a deep breath. It wasn’t their fault. They were as in the dark as the rest of the team. Except, it seemed, team telekinesis. “What’s in that folder, Charles? And tell me honestly. No more bullshit.” He seethed, though, to his subconscious surprise, Xavier held the file out to him. 

“That’s for you to find out. If you wish. But I’ll warn you, Logan. Nothing in that file is good. Nothing is happy. Everything that’s happened to her in the last eighty years or so.” He explained sombrely, and Logan didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream. Eighty years? How was that possible? You were thirty-two. You’d said so yourself. None of this made any goddamn sense. How could you just forget the fact you’d lived at least eighty years of your life? As if Charles had read his mind, which he most likely had, he spoke up again. “A powerful mutant with a focus on memory altering known as Subject One, or Obscurity. From what I could gather, he could alter and re-alter memories, planting ones that never existed and pushing those that deep to the farthest reaches of their minds. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they had at the time.”

The best they had? The best they had? Logan wanted to punch something. Or someone. Preferably someone bald and in a wheelchair. But he refrained himself when the doors behind him whooshed open, and Hank stepped through. 

“All stable. Took a little longer than I thought it would. I think Jones will be out for another few hours, maybe a day or so. The poor little guy barely sleeps as it is, so a tranq knocked him for six.” Hank explained before sensing the tension in the room. Logan said nothing, almost knocking Beast to the ground as he breezed past him, uncaring as he was once again greeted by yet another sight of you lying unconscious on a metal table.

This was becoming a bad habit of yours.

“She should wake within the hour. The tranqs weren’t too strong, only designed for short knockouts rather than extended periods of unconscious.” Logan was barely listening, his heart clenching as you slept peacefully, hooked up to another fucking machine. How many of these have you been hooked up to in your life? How many other machines have you been monitored on? Was that how you received the scars? Or had that part of your story been true? Did you know anything about this? Or had you been lying to him the whole fucking time?

He had too many questions for you, but he knew how he could answer them. He extended a hand behind him. “Hand me the file.”

“Logan, you should–”

“Hand me the fucking file.” His arm shook impatiently, and there was a beat before Ororo took the folder from Charles and placed it in his waiting hand. Christ, it was hefty. Though, he supposed there was eighty years worth of information within its pages. Storm hovered next to him, sparing him a worried glance as he opened the first page. 

Well, any hope that it was another Phantom was quickly dashed as the faded type described you perfectly. From the texture of your hair and the colour of your eyes to the size of your feet and the length of your legs. His heart caught in his throat as he flipped a few pages, hearing Ororo’s gasp of horror next to him.

4th September. 1932 Ex.3 – 12 pm - 9 am. Deprivation / Indulgence Subject 8. “Phantom” / Subject 5. “Solaris” Observer: Doctor R. Kreva.

Removed all objects from Sub.8’s and Sub.5’s observation chambers, and installed flood lighting on all surfaces. Sustain peak lighting in both chambers for 24 hours and record findings. Since 8 and 5 have similar DNA, they have both been selected for this experiment. Their mutations, whilst similar, are opposites. Two sides of the same coin. Will repeat experiment with darkness at a later date. 

Hour 1 – No change in any subjects. Sub.5 seems extremely content with the change of atmosphere, it’s skin emits some kind of glow similar in colour and frequency to the light around. 

Hour 2 – Still no notable changes. Sub.8 raised its head to look around the chamber, perhaps seeking refuge from the light. Only movement in the last two hours.

Hour 5 – Sub.8’s behaviour has become noticeably erratic, its eyes flickering all around the room, has yet to make a move. Sub.5 has remarkably begun creating its own lights, I have included a sketch of my findings below.

Hour 8 – Due to the lack of shadows, Sub.8’s movements have become peculiar. At times, fast and frantic, searching the room for refuge, whereas other times it would be slow and sluggish, barely able to lifts its head to look around. 

Hour 10 – Much the same as Sub.8 in the dark, Sub.5 had disappeared completely. We can only assume, due to the similarity in their DNA, that Sub.5’s body has disintegrated into the light. Sub.8’s vitals are spiking and dipping seemingly randomly. Its body lags when it moves, almost glitching into shadow with every movement. Is this the molecules trying to release?

Hour 17 – Sub.5 has returned, its hair is now elevated above its head and its eyes no longer resemble that of a human’s. Where there should be an iris and pupil, there is now nothing but smouldering light. Sub.8 has begun writhing, parts of its body disintegrating and reforming where it lies. Is it in pain? 

Hour 19 – Sub.8 has started to scream. It’s interesting. With every breath, its entire body shudders as if trying to phase through the fabric of light itself, like Sub.5 can do. Its fingers bleed from frantically clawing at the ground and blood is leaking from its nose. Will need a cleaning crew in hereafter. In contrast, Sub.5 Is now levitating approx. 5 inches from the ground. 

Hour 20 – Sub.8’s condition has rapidly declined in the last hour, its skin seems to have veins of black spiderwebbing across its face, hands and feet. Must make notes to strip both subjects next experiment, but for now I must assume this continues across its body. 

Hour 21 – Sub.8 has ceased all activity and now lies motionless. Vitals have dropped well below human sustainability, heart rate of 20 BPM, and blood pressure of 90/60 mmHg. How is it still alive? Sub.5 has begun wielding the light from its body. It seems as surprised by this as I am. It has been able to form duplicates of itself, objects, and what could be interpreted as a pair of wings. Could Sub.8 be capable of such things?

End of Hour 21 – Leaving the lights on for 24 hours would most likely be the death of Sub.8. With the slow decrease of light intensity, Sub.5 settled back to the floor, its eyes dimming before returning to what we shall now call the default state. Sub.8 remained motionless for another 2 minutes and 42 seconds before their body disintegrated. Interestingly, it couldn’t disappear before the lights were off completely. Saved footage of Sub.8’s disappearance, the infra-red camera pinpointing the moment its body broke apart. Fascinating. Placed them both back into the observation house, and monitored them for the next few days. Sub.5 is already up and around, behaving regularly. Sub.8 still rests in bed. How will this affect its interactions with other subjects?

Ex. Duration: 21 HOURS Ex. Outcome: Success Findings: See above. Memory erased: Last 21 hours Replacement memory: Cooking lesson, NLMO bonding Comments: Must remember to use the same memory for Subjects 2,3,4,6 and 7

Logan felt sick, bile rising in his throat as he blew out a shaky breath, checking the date three times to ensure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Ororo whimpered a small sob next to him, her eyes scanning the page, her hand covering her mouth in utter devastation. Kurt looked between the two of them, not knowing if he wanted to be involved in whatever horrors lay within that folder. 

He couldn’t stop reading, some pages had notes about the life they made you believe you were living, a simulation world with the other seven, not dissimilar to the danger room. Only, every time you ‘went out on an errand’, or ‘went to work’, it was just a replacement memory for when they pulled you out for experimentations. Those were the pages that had shattered his very soul. What they did to you… How could they have been getting away with this for so long?

He continued flicking through, thumbing stacks of pages at a time before he settled on a less faded sheet, dated much more recently. He only read the first line before Ororo looked away, her head in her hands, Kurt bamfing next to her to hold her as she sobbed.

22nd September. 2008 Ex.1,243 6 pm-6:50 pm Pain Tolerance / Resilience Subject 8. “Phantom” Observer: Dr. J. Kreva

It has been noted that Sub.8’s tolerance for pain is exceptionally high. It can easily disappear with surface-level wounds and reappear as good as new. I want to test its durability to its limits and discover how deep we can wound it before we start leaving scars. In order to accomplish this without endangering Sub.8’s life, it will be stripped of clothing and strapped to the operating table and I have given us ten-minute windows. Using the same light-flooded room as Ex.3, a team will be entering the room with various appliances, following the strict instructions of careful harming, before leaving for the lights to be shut off. Sub.8 has been known to fight back, unlike its counterpart Sub.5, and we have lost good people to its unpredictability. So we will be using Sub.5 as a bargaining chip. It has been noted these two have some kind of relationship similar to that we would typically see in siblings. If Sub.8 refuses to cooperate, the team has permission to harm Sub.5 to whatever they deem necessary.

Each ten-minute window will be referred to as a cycle, due to the nature of the lighting we are implementing here. 

Under no circumstances should either Subject be killed.

Cycle 1 – Team TS8 managed to coerce Sub.8 onto the table, strapping it down with efficiency. It has yet to fight back, but it has noticed Sub.5 in the corner. It likely knows the terms already. A small cut has been made on its left arm, with no visible response from Sub.8, however, Sub.5 flinched. Interesting. Team TS8 left the room, lights still on. Nothing to note, Sub.8 disappeared and reappeared with the lightning, with no sign of the small cut. Though it is no longer strapped to the table. I am glad we brought along Sub.5. After seeing its capabilities in the mirrored experiment of Ex.3 (please see Ex.4), Sub.5 will be an excellent bargaining chip to ensure those abilities are not put to use.

Cycle 2 – Team TS8 has already threatened to harm Sub.5 to get Sub.8 to cooperate. Nothing physical yet, only threats. It understood and climbed onto the table itself, allowing itself to be strapped down again. It has said nothing in these moments, simply stared. Due to our already collected knowledge and the two-hour time limit on this experiment, I have had to jump a few levels of pain. I have provided Team TS8 with a conical flask of concentrated hydrochloric acid. It seems the jump was necessary, Sub.8 reacted with subdued screams and desperate tugging on restraints. With the skin tissue of its right calf burned away, I can see its muscular system is almost identical to our own, tendons working in the same way. Though this is no groundbreaking discovery, it is still important to note. Team TS8 left the room along with Sub.5, who seemed reluctant. Sub.8’s breathing is erratic, and it claws at the table in a similar way it did during Ex.3. Does this have any practical benefit or is this simply to ease the pain? It disappears once again along with the lights, a burn scar remains on its leg when it returns.

Cycle 3 – Sub.5 had to be harmed. I didn’t want it to come to this, but Sub.8 wasn’t cooperating as well as I hoped it would. We removed Sub.8 and Team TS8 from the room and turned out the lights. Sub.8 thrashed against restraints as it watched Sub.5 be beaten from behind the door. It agreed to continue swiftly after. Sub.5’s wounds healed as the lights returned. Their bond is a fascinating one, and one I would like to explore further. Sub.8’s Trypanophobia has been noted in its records, having an extreme reaction to the sight of needles. I have provided Team TS8 with various sizes of serrated needles with a diagram of its body. The idea was to see whether Sub.8’s mutation could remove things from its body by disappearing and reforming, or whether obstructions could prevent this. Sub.8 seems panicked by the sight of needles, surely triggering its trypanophobia. Once again it thrashes on the table with each insertion, though it only cried out when pierced in the side of its neck and its inner thigh. Perhaps these are somewhat erogenous zones? Or particularly sensitive places? I will have to make comparisons to Sub.5. Team TS8 left along with Sub.5, who seems to be doing very little to stop the process, though is exhibiting signs of great discomfort. Once again, Sub.8 disappears along with the lights, and interestingly, the needles are left behind on the bed, along with copious amounts of its blood. Not sure the cleanup crew could get those stains out. 

A sob wracked from Storm behind him, though Logan couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away. They exploited your fears and used you to record responses for their sick, twisted gain. He grit his teeth, his jaw threatening to crack as his eyes continue to scan the page. 

Cycle 4 – We have recorded Sub.8’s behaviour on the brink of death in Ex.3, however it was due to lack of shadow. There were no threats necessary to encourage Sub.8 back onto the bed, the needles having been carefully removed. The next stage is incredibly simple. Team TS8 sliced through each radial artery on either side of Sub.8’s wrists. I am not a man easily haunted by much, however I do believe Sub.5’s scream will live in my memory for quite some time. I have made sure to set the cutting of the lights long before Sub.8 has time to bleed out. Sub.5 had to be dragged from the room, however, I can observe Sub.8’s body performing the same motions as it was in Ex.3 around hour 19, however, there is a complete lack of vocal response. Its body keeps attempting to disappear, though it has nothing to dissolve into. It’s fascinating to watch, parts of its limbs shimmering jet black before settling again. It’s like the molecules want to disperse. The lights have dimmed far quicker than the last three times. Sub.8 has not moved from the table. It has not disappeared at all, but it is simply lying in wait. Does it wait to die? Perhaps we underestimated its resolve. I have sent Team TS8 back into the dark room, a knife held against Sub.5’s throat. If it doesn’t dissolve, I have instructed them to make a small incision against Sub.5’s neck. It didn’t need to get that far, Sub.8 saw the consequences and immediately dissolved, though it took far longer for it to return. Perhaps the more severe the wound, the longer it takes to reknit the body back together. Will have to perform further experimentation on this. Two more scars have reformed on either wrist. Interesting. Will need to inspect needle incisions later.

Cycle 5 – It’s dead. I’m certain. Due to the ignorance and fear of man, I have lost one of my most valuable subjects. A terrified guard shot it in the chest several times and burst into the experiment. He didn’t exactly aim for it, but rather for Sub.5. It seems the bond between 5 and 8 ran deeper than even I could comprehend, 8 didn’t think twice about putting itself between the guard, taking several bullets to the chest. Four, to be exact, before he was apprehended. I couldn’t get the lights off fast enough, having to override the system I’d set specifically for this experiment. I wasn’t fast enough, and 8 suffered for it. It’s been here for the last 80 years, and one man ruined everything. Its body is still in the room. I haven’t found the heart to move it yet. Sub.5’s memory of the incident has been erased by Sub.1 once again, and replaced with a severe argument between it and 8, resulting in 8 leaving. I will most likely be dead before I find a subject as valuable for mutant research as Phantom. 

Ex. Duration: 50 MINUTES Ex. Outcome: Failure (subject fatality) Findings: I fear Mutants and Humans can never coexist Memory Erased: Experiment above, Sub.8’s death (for Sub.5 only) Memory Replacement: Severe argument. Comments: A devastating turn of events

Logan swallowed as he reached the bottom of the page. Was that how you escaped? Was that how you got out? They thought you were dead only for you to be able to heal from bullet wounds? Did you slip through the shadows? It took him a moment to think it over. No, that wasn't possible. The dates didn't add up. He turned the page over, seeing further notes scrawled on the back in pen rather than type.

22nd September, Ex.1,243 – Continuation. 1932, 11:42 pm.

The body has disappeared. I have kept the lights off since the incident at 6:50 and made the mistake of closing my eyes for a few minutes. When I opened them again, Sub.8 had disappeared. I sealed the doors immediately, hoping this meant it had somehow found the strength to dissolve back into shadow. Looking into the infrared camera, I have noticed the projectiles of bullets scattered where Sub.8 had fallen. Does this mean it’s recovering? Is it possible for it to recover from four bullet wounds to the centre of its chest? 

12:08 am

Sub.8 has returned. Remarkable. Though there are clear scars on its chest and wrists, it seems to have almost completely healed from the incident. This is a staggering discovery. Will need to alter Sub.5’s memory once again.

Logan dropped the file, pages still spread apart as he took a step back. This couldn’t be real. None of this could be real. What you’d endured, what you’d suffered. The scars that remained. You were right, what you’d said this morning. Mental scars leave the same marks as physical ones. Your body had altered to the memories they’d forced into your mind. They couldn’t remove the scars, so they made you think you’d attempted to take your own life. Made you think you remembered getting into fights as a kid. He knew what mutant experimentation was like. He’d had a firsthand experience. But this was on a whole other level. What the fuck was this all for? 

Now Charles’ words made sense. Some memories were left forgotten. He glanced back to the Professor, who nodded grimly as if to confirm all he’d seen. “My first act as headmaster of this school is to tap into the minds and memories of its students and teachers. Logan, trust me when I say, some things are better left in the past.”

He didn’t know what was right or wrong. Keeping this from you felt wrong but at the same time, you were happy with what you had. Was it already too late? Was that glasses-wearing motherfucker Dr. J. Kreva? How much had he told you? How much did you know?

“They were looking for her, weren’t they?” It was the first phrase he’d spoken since reading the file, pieces of your puzzle clicking into place. Charles simply nodded again. 

“It’s not safe for her to be here anymore. For the students and her. They know where to find her now.”

“Then what to we do?” Ororo asked through heavy sniffles, teary eyes looking between you and the Professor. 

“We take her off grid,” Hank said, setting down his glasses. He’d picked them up to read whatever was in that folder but quickly decided against it after seeing Storm’s reaction.

“But we can’t do that without good reason?” Kurt chimed in, casting worried glances around the room.

“Two years ago, I received signals from an environmental research facility we all believed to have been destroyed in a freak accident seven years prior. I sent Jean and Storm to assess the situation after the explosion, and that’s–”

“That’s where we found her and Jade… Oh my God, that was the site?” Ororo finished, her voice dripping with dread. “But… how did they escape? What happened?”

Charles sighed with resignation. “We don’t know. It would take searching her locked memories and risk pulling them to the surface to answer that question, and that wasn’t a gamble I was going to bet on, not after what I’d glimpsed in the past.”

Logan could barely hear any of this. His ears were ringing, white noise clouding his senses as he just stared at you. Your whole life had been a lie. A jumble of nonsense knitted into your memories by another mutant, reality locked away within the darkest depths of your head. He didn’t know what to do. His urge to protect you from this new threat fought with the urge to protect you from your own past. 

“The decision should be hers.” He interrupted the ongoing conversation, moving to take your hand and press a kiss to the scar on your wrist. “Whether she remembers or not. Explain to her what you said to me, and let her decide.” It was the only course of action he could see. The room fell into silence, all contemplating the suggestion before Charles moved forward to the file on the ground, picking it up and closing it. 

“Wherever you take her, wherever you hide her, take this with you. You can’t tell me where you’re going, and I won’t search for you. The less people who know, the better.” He instructed, and Logan nodded, setting the folder to the side. “When she wakes up, we’ll–”

“When she wakes up, you’ll what?” 

The room had been too caught up in their conversations to notice you stirring from your tranquiliser-induced nap. “You know, I seem to spend a concerning amount of my time unconscious these days.” You sat up slowly, the heel of your palm braced against your forehead as if to help the slight pounding at your temples. 

Logan was at your side in a single stride, his hands cupping the sides of your face delicately, as if holding you any tighter would cause you to break. Your relieved smile when you saw him broke his heart. “Hey Lo’.” 

Though that smile faded as he didn’t return it, his eyes brimming with an emotion your groggy head couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He responded, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, and it was as if that was all you needed for your headache to fade. You held one of his palms against your cheek, leaning into his touch.

“How long was I out?”

“Around four hours or so. You feelin’ okay?” Concern. That was the emotion you couldn’t pinpoint a moment ago. Concern and… heartbreak?

“Yeah… ‘m fine. Who died?” You asked, trepidation lacing your tone as you stole glances at the others in the room. Ororo had tears in her eyes, Kurt’s arm still wrapped around her shoulders in comfort. Hank looked more bleak than you’d ever seen him, his hands clasped together as if in mourning. You continued scanning the room, Charles offering you a look of sympathy before your eyes landed on the folder Logan had set down. It was like a trigger had been fired in your brain, hazy memories of before you fell unconscious rushing back to you in one big hurricane.

“Oh.” Was all you could say, and Logan wrapped his arms around your head in response, smoothing gently touches against your hair as you basked in the comfort of his embrace.

“How much do you know?”

[justmatches]

Let Me Be Your Own

Charles Xavier (Professor X) / fem! reader

Chapter 1

Word Count: 1490

First Meetings, Slow Burn, SLOW slow burn, set in mid-First Class

Note: Reader's mutation gives her the ability to manipulate/communicate with plants. Her powers are there but not very developed whatsoever, that's what Charles is going to help with :). This is him finding her after using Cerebro.

The world was quiet where she sat, her serene little nook in the park giving her a breath of fresh air for the first time that day. Work had been stressful – her boss angry and her coworkers impudent – leaving her mind buzzing and strained.

The grass beneath her was thick, a carpet on the damp Earth where she resided. She found peace in the seclusion of nature, listening to the warm thrum of the plants around her. One thing she learned since she developed her mutation was that even though there were significantly more plants than people, they were much quieter, speaking only when spoken to or when they felt something strange, something new.

Speaking of which, her thought process was interrupted by a whisper from behind her, somewhere on the ground. Someone’s coming. 

The soft sound of dress shoes clicked across the path that wound through the park, the sound turning into a light shuffle as it turned toward her, nearing closer. “Is this seat taken?” A warm voice spoke over her shoulder, compelling her to open her eyes. She turned slightly, glancing at the man behind her.

It was a generally younger man, his hair short on the sides and swept up top, a warm smile on his face, and faded blue eyes bringing forth an almost boyish quality to his features. He was put together, and dare she even say charming.

“Not yet it’s not.” She smiled, trying to hide her confusion at his sudden appearance. She watched silently as his smile widened and he came forward, sitting down in the grass beside her. She felt the grass rustle around him, the blades as curious as she was. 

As he finished settling in the grass he looked out across the park, a warm expression crossing his face at the swaths of green painting the precious little patch of the city.

“Beautiful day out, isn’t it?”

He mused, eyes flicking to read her expression, noting the curiosity of her gaze before flicking back, fixing on something in the distance.

She could feel the flora around her thrumming with a strange energy, enamored by his presence. There’s something special about him. The world seemed to hum, one of the lower-hanging branches, rustling with interest. That thought sparked her thoughts, the feeling registering that he was like her, a mutant. But a simple mutation wouldn’t send the world around them into such a state, it was almost as if his energy was reaching into that of everything around them. Strange.

“Who are you?” She asked, a little more bluntly than anticipated. Somewhere in her mind, she felt bad about being so straightforward, but her curiosity was killing her. Her eyes were trained on his, studying his features, his reactions, trying to pick up anything she could.

He chuckled, his head turning to her in reaction to her blatancy, an unbothered look on his face. “Charles Xavier,” He smiled, a nearly smug expression on his face. “You know, I’ve actually been looking for you.”

“What?” She choked, not expecting that whatsoever. What could he possibly want with her? She knew he was a mutant, but did he know she was, too? How could he know?

“I know what you are, though I haven’t quite figured out what you can do.” He stated, the words somehow answering the questions flashing through her mind.

“How did you know?” She asked, her voice low with caution.

“I have some tricks, too.” His voice echoed in her mind, her eyes squinting and then widening as she realized he never opened his mouth. He was inside her head.

“How did you-?” She stumbled, blinking away her shock. She felt an odd mix of emotions inside of her – shock, fear, comfort – all swirling in her stomach. Was she going to puke? She might puke. She had seen other mutants before but she had never talked to them, too scared to interact, and the premise that one (much less one that was literally inside of her head) was speaking with her was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

He chuckled, the light sound coming out in more of a breath than a laugh.

“Telepathy, darling. I can see every little thought flying through your mind, you know.” He teased, voice dancing on the air between them. She briefly thought that the sound was borderline musical.

She breathed out, a slight sound of amusement at the mix of the pet name and how obvious it was that he spoke to her through telepathy. She internally chided herself for the near idiocy of her last question, though she quickly blamed it on the shock of his voice inside of her skull.

“Then you already know what I can do, can’t you?” She asked, quirking her brow. He smiled, though lightly shook his head ‘no’.

“I’m afraid I don’t. You see, I do my best to avoid prying into people’s minds past the prominent, surface-level thoughts. I find it quite rude to snoop.” He explained, his voice serene but still laced with that joyous, youthful tone. She recognized it as hope, as though he looked confidently at every word that came from his mouth.

She nodded in acknowledgment, understanding his reasoning. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate you not picking my grey matter,” She joked, feeling the tension start to ease from her body. She was still a bit unsure of him, but he was kind, charming, seemingly honest, and the plants hadn’t yet had any objections to him. “Nevertheless, I assume you want to know what my mutation is, then?”

His lips quirked with amusement at her attempt at a joke. He could feel she was nervous, her emotions being one of the most prominent, unsilenceable thoughts she had, but nodded, affirming her question.

“I showed you mine, I think it’s only fair you show me yours.” He teased, returning her lighthearted, joking manner.

She bit back a chuckle and nodded, placing her hand in the grass between them. “It’s nothing much…” She muttered as she focused on the green blades around her fingers, the energy of their livelihood thrumming through her veins before channeling it into the ground a few feet in front of them. She listened to their voices, using the energy to spark the growth of a plant, stems and vines suddenly spilling out of the ground, sprouting up a foot or two before blooming into a delicate flower, the petals bright with energy and life. She heard him laugh beside her, a joyous, excited sound.

“Stupendous!” He uttered, amazement clear in his voice and eyes as he took a knee, leaning forward to examine the new plant closer. His hand twitched at his side and he reached out, about to touch the petals before looking over his shoulder, exhilaration electric in his eyes. “May I?” 

She nodded, a bright smile on her face as he watched him carefully take a petal between his fingers, thumb ghosting along the top of the smooth petal. He muttered something to himself, too quiet for her to catch before he turned back to her, his attention devoted to her. 

“I suppose I haven’t yet told you why I came looking for you.” He chuckled, wonder still lacing his tone.

She shook her head, a small laugh bubbling from her throat, surprised that she hadn’t yet to ask of his intention throughout their meeting. “And I suppose I never asked. Care to tell?” She smiled, eyes meeting his, his excited energy still prominent in the air.

“I’m creating a school for mutants – a safe space for anyone interested. So many of us have lived our lives in fear, in hiding; I want to help those who are willing to come with me. To learn how to control and embrace their powers, to use them for good. To build a better future,” He explained, serious and passionate at the same time. “And I want you to come with me.”

She felt a lump in her throat at the idea of leaving everything she knew behind. But in hindsight, would it be worth it? She didn’t have much to leave behind – no family, not much of a social life, and a pretty awful job. In her few seconds of indecision, she realized that what he was offering would be much better than her current life. She would be surrounded by people who understood her, who were like her, and she would have friends and a stable home. She could have everything a reasonable person wanted.

“Okay,” She breathed, her smile growing as the hopes of his better future embraced her thoughts, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the man in front of her. Though they were strangers she felt comforted by him, she knew she could trust him as he stood up, offering his hand. His smile was warm and exhilarating, giving her a hope she had never known before.

A/N: I just want to say this is my first time properly writing and publishing a chapter of a fic, so feedback is very welcome and appreciated!! My requests are open if there's anything you're itching for, and if you want more of this story, let me know :)