#Mutant Reader

[em1i2a3]

The Dark Side

Pairing: The Void/Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry x Mutant!Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: Bob is having a really bad depressive episode, and you have been unanimously voted to go and provide him with the comfort that he needs to pull him out.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kind of like…Oddly Fluffy but not much? Bob is going through it, Mentions of a Depressive Episode (in which Bob kind of destroys his room), Mentions of Blood/Bruises (descriptions are given of the injuries…Caused by the destroying of his room), Reader has the ability of Power Negation (rendering them unable to be Voided or sent into a shame room) and Telekinesis, Reader and Bob are very close, The Void is…In a large portion of this, like a huge portion of this…I need to write more Void tbh lol….Hinting at a part 2 possibly? I don’t know yet tho

Author’s Note: Someone requested Bob being the little spoon, and I truly loved the idea, so I took it and expanded it as much as possible to give it some…Bite. Hope y’all enjoy :) (also I’ve been literally waiting to use this song for something…And it’s so fitting)

Word Count: 7,652

The compound kitchen was too quiet for this many people. The silence thrummed with something unsaid, stretched thin and humming like a wire pulled too tight.

Ava sat cross-legged on the counter, shoulders hunched, chewing at the fraying edge of her gloved thumb. Every few seconds came the faint, squelching sound of wet leather between her teeth, rhythmic and uneasy. She didn’t seem to notice the sound–or maybe she did, and just didn’t care anymore. Her eyes were trained on the far wall where a few frying pans hung, staring at the one that was crooked and on the brink of falling.

Walker leaned against the fridge like a fixture, arms crossed so tight it made his biceps strain against the sleeves of his t-shirt. His jaw twitched once. His expression–stone-cold and unreadable–was that same military-grade stillness he defaulted to in times like this. Moments where concern might as well be weakness. Where admitting you were worried meant that something had already gone wrong.

Across the table, Yelena was perched in a chair like she’d rather be standing–back stiff, boot planted against the rung of the seat, fingers drumming out a frantic little pattern against the metal tabletop. It wasn’t idle. It was tight, and sharp. Like she was trying to match the tempo of her heartbeat and couldn’t quite keep up because it just kept changing.

Bucky stood with his weight braced against the sink, one hand wrapped around a chipped Thunderbolts mug–faded red and gray–but he hadn’t taken a sip in the last twenty minutes. Steam had long since stopped curling from the lip. His knuckles were white where they gripped the handle, and every so often, his thumb would twitch like he might lift it to his lips, but he never did.

Alexei was in the chair beside you, the wood creaking with every restless shift of his weight. Normally the loudest in any room, he was unusually subdued now. His thick forearms were folded across his stomach, and his eyes–usually wild and reactive–were narrowed, watching Walker with something unreadable. His fingers tapped once against the edge of his knee, then stopped.

And you…You sat stillest of all.

Watching, listening and waiting. Because you already knew what this emergency team meeting was about. Knew it the second you got the text. The second you stepped into this room and counted the people present. There was only one person missing–and it wasn’t like him to be absent for anything.

”We need to talk about Bob.” Yelena muttered, breaking the silence. Her voice was low, but firm. There was a collective exhale of something heavy settling into the room, like everyone had been holding the thought behind their teeth and didn’t want to be the one to name it.

“He hasn’t come out in two days,” Bucky added, voice hoarse from not talking in a while, “Knocked last night…No answer. Door was locked too.”

“I phased through the wall this morning,” Ava said, voice clipped, jaw tense “Couldn’t even be in there for more than a few seconds. Got thrown into the door…Had to get the hell out pretty quickly.” Walker glanced over at Ava.

”Yeah, cause The Void’s in there, it’s not Bob.” He mumbled grimly. You felt the words before you heard them. That faint pressure behind your sternum. Like something whispering from the edge of a black hole. Bucky’s gaze found the floor.

”Last time it was like this, he didn’t eat for a week, he didn’t sleep, he just sat on the floor staring at the wall until we talked him out of it…This time I heard him breaking things in his room…I truly don’t think speaking to him is going to work this time.” He stated, shifting from one foot to the other.

”So we send someone in.” Alexei suggested, his gruff voice cutting through the tension in the room.

“And what?” Walker scoffed, pushing off the fridge just enough to gesture with one hand “Get them sent to a shame room? I’m not going through that again.” The words hung in the air. Heavy and acidic.

And then the silence came again–heavier than before, only this time there was this sort of feeling like everyone was waiting for something.

That’s when you felt it.

Eyes. Not all at once. Not direct. Just quick, darting glances. One after another. Like everyone had the same thought, but no one wanted to say it out loud. Not until–

“Y/N…” Yelena’s voice was quiet and measured, like she was testing the water of a pool, “Would you be willing to try?” You looked over at her slowly. Her brows were pinched, mouth set, but her gaze didn’t flinch. Not from you, and certainly not from what she was asking. Before you could answer, Walker jumped in.

”Nothing happened to you when he Voided New York, right?” Your lashes fluttered a bit, and you could feel your face heat up. Your fingers twitched where they rested against your thigh, and slowly your gaze dropped to your hands–open, resting palm-up.

“Well…No,” You replied softly, “But I don’t think it would be the best idea to send me in.” Walker opened his mouth, but you lifted your chin and cut him off, voice firmer now, “I think I make The Void angrier…Because he can’t…Y’know–“

”Go through every bad memory you have, and make you relive every single one like it just happened?” Bucky interrupted gently, now taking a loud sip from his mug. You turned your head toward him, and his eyes met yours. Steady and understanding of your point.

”Yeah…Pretty much.” You murmured. Another beat of silence passed.

Then Walker let out a short, incredulous laugh, “Then why the hell do we even have you on this team if you don’t want to use your powers for something as small as this?” Your eyes snapped back to him, eyebrows lifting as your expression flattened into something cool and sharp.

”Last time I checked, Walker,” You started, “I saved your ass from a bunch of mutants in Slovenia.” He opened his mouth to say something, but you went on, “Remember that? The underground lab. The one where they lured you in with fake hostages? The one where Bucky’s arm got fried while you were too busy playing Captain Knockoff to notice the tripwire?” Walker blinked at you, his gaze dropping to the ground.

”And if I wasn’t there to dampen and take away their powers, you’d still be in that goddamn hole,” You stated, voice deceptively calm now, “So–kindly?” You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows on your knees, “Sit on it…And rotate.” Bucky let out a sigh, stepping in before Walker could say anything back in retaliation.

”You’re the only one who can technically get close to him without setting him off…I mean, yeah, it pisses him off. But you nullify him, Y/N…He backs off when you’re around…It also has a lot to do with the fact you’re close with Bob too.”

Bucky was right.

If it wasn’t for the fact that you were already close with Bob–closer than most, maybe too close–this would be impossible. And it wasn’t just proximity or shared downtime or familiarity on missions. It was that quiet, tangled closeness. The kind that took root when two people didn’t have to speak to understand each other. When silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but necessary.

Still, that didn’t make any of this easier.

Because even with that closeness…The Void knew who you were. What you were. And it hated you for it.

You’d only interacted with it directly a handful of times. Each one branded into your memory like scars you didn’t wear on the outside.

Once during a medbay blackout–Bob had been unconscious and bleeding, a psychic wound ripping through the space around him, and you’d been the only one able to get close enough to touch him. The Void had flickered into the room with a voice like cold static, dripping something ancient and endless against your bones. It didn’t yell. It didn’t threaten.

It whispered, and challenged.

“You take him from me.”

“He’s safer without you.”

“I could make you feel every moment of your worst night in under a second–want to try?”

Another time, on a rooftop in London, when Bob had collapsed mid-mission, shaking, breathless, clutching his skull with both hands like he was trying to hold himself inside it, The Void had poured through his cracks and stared at you through his eyes. You had been taken off guard, and in the split second that you weren’t aware he had made you see your mother, the way she grabbed you by your hair and slammed you against a mirror–which was how you got the scar above your eyebrow.

You didn’t even flinch, and that made The Void angrier with you.

You bit the inside of your lip, eyes flicking over the room again. Every face trained on you now. Some guarded, some silently pleading, but all of them were waiting.

Your voice came out smaller than you meant it to.

“…Fine. I’ll do it.”

A breath seemed to pass through the team like a wave, though no one dared say thank you. They knew better than to treat this like a favor. This wasn’t a volunteer mission. This was a gamble.

“But don’t hover around the door,” You added quickly, pressing your palms to your thighs as you stood, “I don’t need backup. It’ll just make things worse.”

They all nodded.

Bucky was the first to step back, giving you space. He dipped his chin once in acknowledgment, slow and solemn. Yelena gave you a tight nod, eyes shadowed with concern, but she didn’t argue. Ava dropped her hand from her mouth, the glove damp with spit, and looked at you like she wanted to say something–but didn’t.

Walker crossed his arms again and stayed quiet, which, for him, might’ve been the most meaningful gesture of all.

Alexei stood as well, hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder as you moved past. His grip was steady. Warm. Protective in the way only he could be–loud without words.

You didn’t say anything else as you left the kitchen. Didn’t look back.

The hallway to Bob’s quarters felt longer than usual. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, the soft hum of the compound’s systems running like a heartbeat in the background. You could feel it–low and dull–the way his presence saturated the air even through the door. That pressure in the back of your head. The coil of unease in your ribs.

You paused outside the room.

No sound from within. No breathing. No shuffling. No glass breaking. Just…Stillness. Heavy and full, like a vacuum waiting to collapse in on itself.

You raised your fist slowly and knocked twice.

“Void…I’m coming in.”You announced, already knowing he probably sensed you from miles away. The lock clicked under the pressure of your mind–an old security latch giving a reluctant little snick as your telekinesis pried it loose with practiced ease. The door creaked open, just wide enough for you to slip inside.

And the second it sealed shut behind you, the weight of the room hit.

Not just silence.

Suffocation.

The darkness was thick–almost physical. It pooled in the corners like oil and clung to the walls, layered and unmoving. The blackout curtains were to blame for that–drawn tight, suffocating what little natural light might’ve softened the edges of the space.

But even the shadows weren’t still. They writhed.

You took a single step forward, and the crunch under your boot broke the silence.

Glass…There was so much glass.

Not just from a shattered mirror, but from everything else in the room–fragments of picture frames, broken mugs, shattered bulbs. Jagged teeth scattered across the floor like a warning. In the far corner, an old desk chair laid toppled on its side, two of its legs snapped clean through, the splinters of plastic jutting upward like a broken rib cage.

The dresser was no longer a dresser.

It was a carcass. Wood panels torn from their seams, drawers ripped apart like kindling. One drawer had clearly been thrown–there were impact marks on the opposite wall where the corner had struck and left a dent, now trailing with paint dust and something darker–blood or ink or both. The walls were pockmarked with fist-sized impressions. You counted at least six from where you stood, each one blooming out in spiderweb cracks.

The air smelled like sweat, iron, static, and something metallic. Burned electronics…The scent of a mind unraveling, and overtaken by something empty.

Though, through all the destruction, the bed–miraculously–remained intact.

Sort of.

The sheets were rumpled, tangled half way down the frame, one corner half-ripped from the mattress, but the structure itself held. Just barely. The headboard was dented. The mattress had dark stains near the middle, but you didn’t want to guess what they were.

But none of that truly drew your eyes…It was him…

The Void.

Curled like a gravitational wound at the center of the chaos. A black mass draped across the unmade bed in something that only resembled the fetal position. Shoulders hunched, limbs drawn in too tightly, like he was trying to curl into the concept of himself and erase what was left. The shadows rolled off his back in slow, deliberate tendrils–molasses-thick and ink-dark. They rose and fell in undulating pulses, brushing against the sheets, licking the edge of the mattress, curling through the air like they were tasting it. He was still, but not inert, like a storm brewing, but just beyond the horizon.

You took one careful breath and moved forward.

Crossing the room meant stepping around the wreckage–splintered furniture, broken glass, ceramics, and fractured memories from the Polaroids that were scattered on the floor from the broken frames. You moved with practiced precision, keeping your steps slow, measured, and balanced. No sudden movements, no sharp noises apart from the cracking and shattering beneath your feet, just you and your presence.

When you reached the far wall, you hesitated–just for a second–then reached for the curtain. Your fingers trembled slightly as it came into contact with the thick, light proof fabric.

You took a breath, and yanked it open.

Sunlight poured into the room like a floodgate breaking.

Warm and red and golden–the last gasp of a sunset bleeding across the compound horizon. It didn’t banish the dark, but it carved a space in it. Lit the motes of dust hanging heavy in the air. Made the wreckage shimmer like a battlefield caught in the golden hour.

And it lit him.

The Void didn’t move. Not fully. But you could feel the shift. The twitch of air. The smallest ripple in the fabric of the room.

When you turned back to him–

There he was.

The Void looked…Almost beautiful in the sunlight.

Not in the way people meant when they talked about beauty. This wasn’t gentle or graceful or soft. It wasn’t something that asked to be appreciated. It was arresting. Unnatural. Terrifying, yes–but stunning in a way that made your breath catch like it had stumbled into your throat and forgotten how to move.

The golden light cut a jagged angle across the wreckage–strewn room, carving past broken drawers and shattered glass and plastic, but it slowed when it hit him.

Not physically, but perceptibly. Like the light hesitated.

The Void’s form didn’t cast a shadow–he was the shadow. A humanoid silhouette, pitch-black and impossibly dark, draped in endless, shifting tendrils that shimmered faintly in the warm light. He wasn’t see-through, not exactly, but he wasn’t solid either. Looking at him felt like peering into the night sky from the bottom of the ocean–inky, infinite, and so far removed from the natural world that your eyes didn’t quite know where to land.

He looked like a silhouette made of star-drenched tar. The only consistent shape was his outline–vaguely human, impossibly still–and the shock of those eyes.

Pale white. Pupils like burning pinholes through reality itself.

And then there were the freckles. Not normal ones. They weren’t skin-deep or superficial, but scattered like constellations across his chest and shoulders and face, splattered in soft gradients of faint violet and ghost-light blue and shocking white. They moved. Barely. Like they weren’t actually part of him, but windows into something else. Into somewhere that didn’t obey the same laws of existence.

Like someone had cracked open the body of the universe and poured it into him until he took its shape.

You took another step closer, your boots crunching on a piece of ceramic that used to be a mug, and that’s when his head turned slightly–just enough for you to meet one pale, gleaming eye.

And then–he growled. Low and guttural. Less vocal, and more…Animalistic.

”…God.” The word rumbled through the air like it had teeth, “Not you.” You blinked, and then smiled. Not unkindly. Not smugly, either. Just…Knowingly.

You shifted your weight onto one leg, arms loosely crossed, letting your gaze roam over him again now that you were closer. It was always a strange thing, seeing him like this–in daylight. You’d only ever caught glimpses. In dreams. In flickers. In the strange reflections that warped when Bob was between states. But never like this. Never with the sunset warm on your face, and him laid out in the middle of it like a void-stained wound stitched into golden light.

It made him look unreal. Like something painted across the world and only half-belonging.

“I figured you knew I was coming,” You said lightly, voice quiet but firm as you took another careful step forward, your knees almost hitting the mattress. “I’m sure of it, actually…You’re all knowing are you not?” He didn’t respond. But he moved–barely. A twitch in his shoulder. A curl of fingers you hadn’t noticed pressed into the sheets. And then slowly, with the kind of irritated dramatism only a god-tier being could muster, he turned over.

Away from you.

It was such a petty, human gesture that you nearly laughed. He curled onto his other side like a sullen teenager pretending to be asleep, the tendrils of shadow snapping faintly around his limbs–like he was swatting the sunlight away.

You sat down on the edge of the bed slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements, careful to keep your voice soft as you spoke again, “I’m not here to fight with you.” A pause. The air shifted again. Like the room was breathing for him.

“I’m just here for him,” You murmured. “You know that.”

No answer.

Just the shadows tightening around his form like a second skin. Flicking sharp toward the light, then recoiling. The silence didn’t just settle this time–it spread. Like a sickness. Like smoke crawling into your lungs, seeping under your skin, and clinging to the corners of your thoughts.

You stared at the pillow beneath his head, your brow slowly pulling into a tight line.

There–just beneath the crook of where his temple met the white cotton–were stains.

Tiny, deep red drops.

Not smeared, or splattered, but fallen and sunken into the fabric.

”…Are you bleeding?” You asked softly, the question curling through the air like the edge of a breeze that didn’t quite reach him. The Void paused for a moment.

And then–he laughed.

Short and dry. Low and splintered. It didn’t echo. It shook. Like the walls of the room didn’t want to carry the sound and were trying to drop it before it could reach too far.

“I do not bleed,” He said, the words scraping over the back of your mind like cold metal dragging across bone, “The shell does.” Your jaw flexed slightly, and your frown deepened.

“…Did he do all of this?” You asked, “The mess I mean…Or was it you?” At first, he didn’t say anything. There was not even the twitch of a shadow.

Then he curled in tighter into himself, the shadows drawing closer like blankets that didn’t warm.

”Mix of both,” He admitted, reluctantly, “I don’t understand why it matters to you.” You let the breath leave your nose in a quiet sigh and dropped your gaze.

“Well…” You murmured, reaching for the zipper of your hoodie, “First, we’re going to have to replace all of this stuff.” The hoodie came off in one fluid motion. You tossed it gently to the side of the bed and leaned forward to untie your boots, voice dropping just a little more casual as you added, “And second… I’d rather be ready when he comes back.” The last boot hit the floor with a soft thud. You stretched your socked toes slightly before curling them back under you and shifting onto the bed more fully, tucking one leg beneath you.

“Because I know I’ll have to bandage his hands now.” The Void shifted again. His back hunched tighter, shadows rippling sharp across his shoulders like hackles rising on an animal trying not to snarl.

“…He’s not coming back,” He replied, so quietly you almost missed it, “He’s in too deep.” You didn’t respond right away, you just tilted your head a bit, and let your eyes linger on the slope of his back, the way the light carved out the glinting star-patterns along his skin. You didn’t let your face harden. Didn’t scoff. Didn’t rush him. You just raised your brow slightly.

“Mm,” You hummed. “We’ll see about that.”

And then–slowly–you reached forward.

The tendrils noticed first. They snapped back from your approach like struck nerves. Sizzling faintly at the edges of your reach, shadows spiraling defensively around his form, curling between your hand and his body like they could block what was coming.

They knew what your touch would do.

But you didn’t stop.

You let your fingers slip through the whorls of shadow like they were ink in water–watching them coil and twitch as they tried, and failed, to recoil fast enough.

And then your palm met his shoulder.

Cold.

So cold your breath caught in your throat. Like placing your hand against dry ice, it was so cold it was…Hot in a way.

He flinched. Hard. The entire bed jostled with the sudden jerk of his muscles pulling tight.

“Ah–!”

The hiss tore out of him unbidden, guttural and strangled like it hurt. Because it did.

You could feel it the moment your skin met his–how the shadows shrank. How the hum of wrongness faltered in the walls. How the pressure around the room thinned slightly. You were draining him. Nullifying the divine static that clung to him like rot.

His body didn’t lurch away immediately, but his breath did. A sharp inhale. Like the pain was new. Like it surprised even him.

“…Don’t,” He rasped. “Don’t touch me.”

But you didn’t pull back.

Your hand pressed firmer to his shoulder.

The shadows hissed.

He jerked again, more violently this time, trying to pull himself away–but you didn’t let him. You didn’t even move. The only shift was in the air–your focus hardening, your mind expanding like a net, invisible but unshakable.

Telekinesis wasn’t always force. It wasn’t about slamming someone across a room or crushing metal with your thoughts.

Sometimes, it was about stillness. Weight. The kind of pressure that settled over bone and muscle like gravity, inescapable and patient.

And so when he tried to move again, the Void grunted–sharp, frustrated, restrained. The bedframe creaked beneath him with the effort of a god trying to disobey the very laws of physics you wove around him.

“I will kill you.” The words were low. Ragged. Meant to shake you.

But you…laughed.

Not loud. Not mocking. Just…Soft. A breathy, disbelieving thing that came from the hollow of your throat and made your shoulders twitch with the absurdity of it.

“If that’s what you truly wanted…” You murmured, your voice a ghost just above his ear as you leaned in close, “You would’ve done it already.”

There was a pause.

Heavy. Stagnant. Tense.

He tried again. You could feel it–his form straining against your hold, his shadows cracking through the air like whips, like rage incarnate, but they couldn’t touch you. Not really. Not with your powers blanketing the space between.

He growled. Animalistic. Teeth grinding, tendrils snapping.

You didn’t flinch.

You just moved.

Slowly, quietly, you climbed onto the bed fully. The mattress dipped beneath your weight, groaning with the shift, and he hissed again–but not from pain this time. From confusion.

And then…You laid behind him.

You felt it instantly. The temperature drop was jarring, biting into your skin through your shirt. It hit your chest first, then your bare arms as you wrapped them carefully around him, curling your body along the edge of his.

You let your arm drape over his side, your palm hovering at first, before pressing flat against his chest.

Gods shouldn’t feel like this.

Shouldn’t tremble. Shouldn’t shiver.

But he did.

His body didn’t accept the comfort–it reacted to it, violently at first. The moment your skin touched his chest, his muscles tensed, his breath caught, and then came the sound.

A broken, pained little gasp.

It wasn’t quite a growl. It wasn’t even a scream.

It was…A whimper.

Low. Raw. And filled with something deeper than pain.

The tendrils thrashed. A few brushed past your cheek, stinging cold, like frostbite in motion. One grazed your lips. Another flicked across your jaw, searching, tasting, confused.

But they didn’t strike.

They didn’t push you away.

In fact, slowly…They began to shift.

Curling, and looping, almost in a tender way. A hesitant winding around your arm. A slow crawl against your thigh. Brushing, nudging, and then stilling. Like they were learning you again. Like they remembered your signature and didn’t quite know what to do with it anymore.

“Just…” Your voice trembled slightly with the cold, but you didn’t stop, “Calm down, Void…Let him come back.” Your breath fogged against the back of his neck, warm in contrast to the chill that radiated off him like a dying sun.

He shuddered. Twitched. His hand moved to grab your wrist, but didn’t squeeze–just held it. Like an anchor. Or a warning.

Then he pushed against your arm once–sharp, desperate, useless.

And then…He sagged, letting out a frustrated, inhuman sound that didn’t belong in a throat. Something halfway between a hiss and a wounded sob. You felt it in his chest more than you heard it. A tremor under your palm. A ripple in your own ribs from how tightly you were pressed to him.

The tendrils wrapped tighter, and your cheek pressed gently to the back of his shoulder.

There was a long moment where neither of you moved.

Not a breath stirred the air between your bodies. Not a word passed your lips.

Your cheek stayed pressed to the curve of his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, lashes brushing the cool shadowed skin. You let your senses drift, quietly reaching–searching–for something deeper. Something alive. You tried to listen again. Tried to find it. That faint rhythm. That human thread. That flicker of Bob.

But there was nothing.

No beat. No pulse.

Just silence.

Like pressing your ear against something ancient and hollow. Something that had forgotten it was ever meant to hold life.

And still…You stayed.

Your arm slowly shifted under the pillow, tucking more securely around the Void’s form, locking him in tighter, folding yourself to him like an anchor trying to hold a black hole still.

He grunted–louder this time–when your hand slipped across his chest again. The heatless cold biting up your wrist, down to the marrow, but you didn’t let go.

“You are hurting me.”

His voice was fractured now.

Still sharp. Still foreign. But softer around the edges. Like something was fraying. Like he wasn’t used to stating pain—only inflicting it.

You shook your head gently, your breath warm against the shell of his neck.

“You’re not used to this,” You murmured, voice steady despite the chill leeching into your skin. “But this is the only way I can get Bob back.”

Your fingers flexed slightly, your grip never relenting.

“You’re not going to go away on your own,” You added, more softly now, “I know you well enough…”

The second the words left your mouth, he moved.

Fast.

The Void jerked against you, his shadows spiking like claws as he tried to break free from your arms with all the force of a universe unraveling. Your powers flared instinctively–holding him, grounding him, caging him without violence.

And then he snapped–

“You don’t know me at all,” He hissed. “You have no fucking idea who I am.” The room trembled. The broken glass shivered on the floor. One of the remaining lightbulbs overhead gave a sick little buzz and blinked out.

But you…

You didn’t flinch.

You didn’t let go.

And you didn’t raise your voice.

Your reply was almost gentle.

“I know the person you live inside,” you said. “I know him.”

You let your forehead rest against the top of his spine, your hand smoothing softly over the cold, trembling surface of his chest.

“And you may not believe it,” You continued, “But you’re a piece of him. Whether you hate it or not.”

He stilled–but not with calmness–with a kind of rigid tension. The kind that only came before collapse.

You pressed on.

“And he…” You said slowly, voice like a thread stitching through the dark, “He likes being touched. And held. And wanted.”

A beat.

“Deep down inside that hollowness, I think you do too.”

The shadows tightened around your arms–an instinct. A warning. But they didn’t pull you away.

“That’s my little key to get into your head,” You whispered, “And bring him back.”

And with that, you pulled him even closer.

You melted into him–your arm cinched tighter under his ribs, your hand splayed flat against the void of his chest, fingers brushing those starlit freckles like they might ignite under the contact. Your thighs curved around the bend of his body. Your breath warmed the space between his neck and shoulder.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t hiss.

Didn’t growl.

But you felt the change.

His grip tightened on your wrist. Not to crush. Not to command. But to hold. Like he was waiting. Waiting for you to falter. Waiting for your guard to drop. Waiting for you to flinch–so he could shove you away and snap the thread.

But you didn’t.

You just held on.

“You’re not going to scare me off,” You breathed. “So go ahead. Try.”

Your voice was calm. Unshaking. Your hand moved without thinking now.

Slow, gentle circles against his chest. Fingers brushing the raised curve of a freckle, then flattening again. Just enough pressure to remind him you were there. Just enough heat to keep the ice from creeping back in too fast. Your thumb traced the faint starlit constellation scattered near his collarbone, following one mark to the next as if mapping a sky only you could read.

You didn’t know how long it took. Time didn’t work right in rooms like this–where the air tasted like static and silence stretched so long it warped.

But eventually…

The rigidness began to leave him.

Not in one dramatic exhale.

Not with a sigh or a shudder.

Just a slow, quiet shift. One vertebrae at a time. One tendon unwinding. His shadows still clung to your wrist and thighs like anchors, but their hold was less…tense. Less venom. More hesitation.

And then–you felt it.

A small, deliberate movement.

His head tilted down. Chin dropped ever so slightly toward his chest, toward your hand. Not fast enough to be startled. Not deep enough to retreat. Just…searching. Studying. Like he was looking at something he hadn’t dared examine until now.

And then–

“…You have a lot of beauty marks on your hands.”

His voice was quieter now. Duller at the edges. Like something inside him had collapsed just enough to let the words out.

“Bob looks at them a lot.”

The admission settled in the air between you like a stone into water–gentle, but heavy with weight.

You stilled for just a breath. Then resumed your tracing, softer this time, almost like you didn’t want to scare the moment away.

“He pretends he’s not,” The Void added. “But he memorized them.”

A pause. “One by one.”

Your throat tightened. Just a little. But you didn’t speak. You waited.

He inhaled once, shallow.

“…Folklore says they represent where your soulmate from a past life used to kiss you.” Your brows furrowed, caught somewhere between surprise and something warmer, softer.

You tilted your head just a little against his shoulder, trying not to let him hear the quiet thrum picking up in your chest.

A moment passed.

And then you said, teasingly–light but careful–

“Seems like a lot of soulmates have kissed you everywhere…” You nudged gently at his side with your fingers. “You’ve got marks all over your body.”

There was a pause.

Then–

A sound.

It wasn’t a laugh. It wasn’t a scoff either.

It was something between.

A sound from deep in his chest. Soft, strange. Like a hum unraveling. Like a thread pulled from a black tapestry and found to be made of silk. Not hostile. Not mocking. Just…Thoughtful.

“…It is not the same,” He murmured.

And the way he said it–

It wasn’t defensive. It wasn’t flippant. It was almost longing. Like he knew, with unsettling clarity, the difference between touch and intimacy. Between worship and warmth. You didn’t move your hand from his chest. Just kept brushing your thumb in slow arcs across the curve of one freckle, and then another, as your brow furrowed gently.

“How is it not the same?” You asked, feeling The Void shift beside you–not violently, but with something sharp in the tension of his shoulders, like the question had scraped a nerve. His chin dipped again, the shadows curling tighter along your spine.

“It’s just…” He muttered, clipped now, almost irritated, “…How it looks.” He rolled slightly, enough for the tendrils across his chest to shimmer faintly in the dying sunlight. The freckles pulsed there still–pale, slow-burning starlight in a galaxy of ink.

“You may interpret it as marks,” He added flatly, “But it is just…How it is. There’s nothing more to it.” His voice was distant again. Slipping back into that cold echo, like he was digging himself into a trench of denial. You hummed softly in response. Not convinced. Not arguing. Just…Thinking.

And then, after a beat–

“You’ve never felt love, or anything like that, hmm?” He stiffened entirely. Like you’d cracked a fault line that ran straight through him and threatened to split his chest open.

He didn’t reply.

So you continued–gently, but with a note of something more pointed.

”You just…Live behind Bob’s eyes, and whatever he goes through–whatever he feels–you get the little bites of it…Correct?” It was a truth you didn’t say to hurt him. But it landed that way anyway.

He groaned. Not out of pain. Not purely out of rage either. It was resentment. Pure and concentrated. Heavy in his chest and thick in his voice as he snapped–

“Listen…”

The tendrils twitched against your arms. Coiled with warning.

“I am already stuck in this position because you’re a succubus leech who drains me every time you breathe near me–” He spat, the words acidic and cutting, “I am not going to speak about what I experience through Bob. This is not a therapy session.” You bit the inside of your cheek, just barely, and sat with the sting of it. Let it pass.

“…Okay,” You said quietly, “Touchy subject. Sorry.”

Your voice didn’t waver. But it softened. Like you knew it was a wound. And not one you could cauterize tonight.

A pause fell over you both. He turned his face just slightly, half-hidden in the bend of his elbow, and the tension around him seemed to slow–not dissipate, not ease, but slow. A stalling breath caught in molasses.

And then, without even thinking about your next actions, you pressed your lips gently to his shoulder.

It was a soft kiss. Barely there. Just a whisper of heat against a body that didn’t carry it.

But the reaction was immediate.

The Void flinched–hard. But not away.

And just below where your lips touched his skin, you saw it.

A flicker.

A little fractal of a star.

Tiny. No bigger than your thumbnail. A fractured pinpoint of white-gold, like a nova caught mid-bloom. It shimmered once, flaring faint violet at the edges–like a nerve exposed. It appeared beneath the skin of shadow like light behind thin glass, and then…Stayed. Not fading. Not shrinking. Just there.

And the second your heart clenched–sharp and aching at the sight–he snapped.

“Don’t do that again.”

The voice was low. Cold, but not cruel. He sounded afraid.

You blinked. Sat up slightly behind him. Your hand still rested against his chest, but your expression shifted–watching the star pulsing softly.

”I knew you brought up that folklore stuff for a reason,” You murmured.

The Void twitched beneath your weight–tension returning, but not fury. Something more volatile in its vulnerability. He shifted, trying to roll, but the weight of your powers kept him still, your body pressed too closely against his for him to twist away.

“Jesus Christ,” he snapped, frustrated. “What are you? A rock? A boulder? I—I can’t even move.”

“Exactly,” you said lightly, settling your cheek back against his shoulder. “You’re trying to avoid the conversation… Maybe you should let Bob come back to handle this one.”

He growled low in his throat, shadows snapping once in protest, but nothing struck you.

“I’m not that easily swayed by a thing like you,” he bit out.

But there was hesitation in it now. Thinning resistance. A fracture in the spine of his anger.

You smiled against his skin.

And then—you started kissing him again.

Slow. Gentle. One after the other.

You placed a kiss at the dip of his spine.

Then at the base of his neck.

Then to the spot just beneath his jaw, where the darkness shimmered like ink floating over glass.

And each kiss—every single one—left another starlight bloom.

A pinpoint of white-gold.

A soft violet pulse.

A celestial wound that didn’t bleed—but glowed.

Tiny galaxies emerging under your mouth like his body had forgotten how to hide them.

“Are Bob and I soulmates?” you whispered against his skin, voice just playful enough to burn, “Is that what this is?”

Another kiss. Another nova. Another whimper. Not a growl this time.

He jerked again, but this time–not away.

Something loosened, and you felt it. The tension in the shadows began to stutter.

Their rhythm breaking.

Tendrils untangling.

The air around you shifted–less cold now. Less heavy. And then—you saw it.

Just a glimpse.

A slip.

A patch of pale, trembling skin where darkness used to writhe. Just beneath your hand, on the far side of his ribs, the black slid back like melting paint, retreating under your touch.

His breath hitched.

And then–suddenly–the shadows collapsed inward.

Like a tidal wave rushing in reverse.

Like the vacuum of space had just exhaled all at once.

They peeled off him in layers, the tendrils shriveling and snapping back like overstretched nerves, retreating into the floor, the walls, the bedframe. A vortex of absence pulling itself away from something it could no longer cling to.

And all that was left–was Bob.

He gasped like a man drowned. Choking on the air like it burned.

His whole body trembled–bare skin exposed now, sweat-slicked and shaking, his spine curved, arms drawn in like he was trying to hold himself together.

His fingers twisted into the sheets like he didn’t know where he was.

His eyes were wide. Unfocused.

And then–

They found you.

And the second they met yours, that glimmer of bright, beautiful blue–

You exhaled. All the weight in your chest collapsing inward with a relief so fierce it stung.

“Bob,” You breathed.

He didn’t answer.

His jaw clenched, shaking.

Tears stung the corners of his eyes–not falling yet, but close. His breath was coming too fast, too sharp.

You moved instantly.

Your hand came to his head–gently, reverently–fingers sliding into his sweaty hair, dragging softly over his scalp in long, grounding motions.

He flinched at first–then leaned into it, seeking the comfort that you had given him countless times before from outside of this context. You pulled him back toward you, tucking his head beneath your chin as your arms curled tighter around his chest.

“It’s okay,” You whispered, voice warm, threading through the cold air like gold wire. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” His fingers clutched at your forearm with sudden, desperate strength.

A choked, broken sob tore out of him as his grip tightened like a vice—raw, panicked, trembling. He clung to you like the room might dissolve if he let go, like you might dissolve. And when you glanced down to where his hand gripped your arm, your breath caught in your throat.

“…Oh my god…Bob.”

His hands were ruined.

The skin across his knuckles was torn open–bloody and cracked like old leather stretched too far. Scabbed-over lacerations split in jagged lines across every joint, with dried blood crusted thick beneath his fingernails and ground into the creases of his palm. The bruising was almost violent in color–black and violet pooled beneath the skin in wide, uneven patches that traveled from the backs of his hands to the delicate tendons along the inside of his wrists.

His palms were the worst.

Torn in places. Split where skin had given out from striking too many hard surfaces–glass, wood, stone. Splinters embedded in the meat of his thumbs. Swollen pads bruised from impact after impact, the raw friction of knuckles dragging across floors and punching through walls. There was a fine tremor in every finger, shaking so subtly it made your chest ache.

You reached for him instinctively, your other hand hovering just under his wrist–

“Let me ge–”

But he cut you off.

“Pl–Please,” He gasped, voice wrecked with sobs, “Don’t–don’t leave me. I…I don’t wa–want to be alone.”

His fingers curled harder around your arm, pulling you in tighter, frantic and shaking. Your heart cracked clean in two.

You softened instantly, forehead resting against the back of his head.

“I can’t just leave your hands like this…” You whispered, barely able to get the words out through the thick knot forming in your throat.

But he whimpered again, voice splintering apart at the seams.

“Ye–Yes you can…I d-do—don’t want to be alone…”

The words hit like a blow.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

Just honest in the way only raw fear could be. His body was folded in on itself, back pressed to your chest, and you felt every tremble he couldn’t suppress. Every twitch of pain. Every fractured breath.

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly, letting your brow knit tight, letting the helplessness crest over you–but only for a second.

Then–gently–you shifted back into place behind him.

Your arm curled across his torso once more, anchoring him against you, your legs folding in tighter like you could protect him from the air itself. You kissed the crown of his head–once, then again, softer this time–your lips trembling against the tangled mess of his damp curls.

Your voice came quieter now, steadier, like you were afraid speaking too loud might break him again.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

His hand still clung to your arm, shaking, but you moved carefully–slowly–lifting one of his bruised fists with tender fingers. You brought it to your mouth, just above the worst of the dried blood, and kissed it.

One knuckle.

Then the next.

Then lower–across the cracked bend of his thumb.

Another kiss.

And another.

You didn’t flinch at the blood. You didn’t pull back at the bruises. You kissed through them like they were sacred. Like they were his and that made them worth kissing.

“I’m sorry,” He choked suddenly, the words tumbling out in gasps. “I–I’m sorry for the r-room, for everything–god, I ruined everything, I just–I–”

“Hey,” You whispered, cutting him off softly. You kissed his hand again. “It’s fine. Everyone will help you replace everything. You’re safe. You’re okay. Just breathe with me, alright?”

He hiccuped a sob, still trembling, still cradled in your arms.

“Just breathe,” You repeated, your voice like silk threading through the ache in his lungs.

And slowly–painfully–he tried.

You pressed your cheek to the side of his head and spoke quietly against his hair.

“In through your nose…”

You inhaled with him.

“Good. Now out through your mouth.”

You exhaled slow and steady.

Again.

“In…”

He followed, ragged but trying.

“…And out.”

You felt his shoulders shake–but this time, they weren’t recoiling. They were easing. Piece by broken piece.

“You’re okay, Bob,” You whispered. “Just keep breathing with me. I’ve got you.”

[electricgg]

Since there’s A LOT happening in the next chapter, I have decided to divide it in two parts ✨

It would have the same amount of scenes (if I don’t come up with something else while writing it-) and probably posted with two days in between each other.

As to why? Well, I got casted for three more films (one of them where I playing some one’s dead wife that haunts the narrative which I found funny as hell because CMOOOON- manifestation works in mysterious ways 😌✨), and it’s gonna be a bit busy for me in the upcoming weeks so I don’t want to overwhelm myself by making a long chapter.

I’ll read y’all in the comments and asks!

Love, GG🥰✨

[mrabubu]

Karaoke nights at resistance's base be like:

[tasenwrobots]

They be living with the ultimate spoiler alert frfr

[loganhowlettshousewife]

we’ve all watched the scene of logan putting out the cigar on himself and it got me thinking about him with a reader whose mutation allows them to burn people. (he’s such a freak i need him).

-

he’s a squirming, whimpering mess underneath you. such a gorgeous sight, and one that only you get to witness - the big, bad wolverine turned into a moaning mess through the use of your power, completely at your mercy, his hands tied so he couldn’t fight you off even if he’d wanted to (not that he ever would).

you were anxious to try this. your power wasn’t one that could be used for good. it only ever caused pain, suffering, family and friends leaving you once it had manifested, spitting out words that felt like venom. you burn people when you touch them, like fire licking over their skin, making them cry and scream and beg for mercy. 

you have gloves of every colour of the rainbow, an array of different fabrics and patterns and textures, pairing them with your outfit every day. you hate touching people, hate hurting them.

but logan has a thing for pain. he’d admitted it to you, under the cover of a dark and cloudy sky, when you’d asked him how he could possibly stand to be with you when you’d never be able to touch him, never be able to kiss him without hurting him.

he’d begged you, actually begged you to touch him, to burn him, to hurt him.

for the first time ever you can touch someone without a layer of fabric in between. you can drag your fingers along his thighs and watch the red burn marks it leaves behind, watch the colour fade and the texture smooth over as his body heals itself. it’s like he was made for you, a perfect match, both with cracked and broken edges, but somehow you fit.

“fuckin’ touch me,” he spits, “c’mon.”

“i am touching you,” you reply, pressing your hand down onto his hairy chest. his skin is warm, slightly damp from a thin layer of sweat, alive and real. he cries out, but it’s not the sound you’re used to hearing when you touch people. it’s a whine, higher than you thought his voice could go, pain and pleasure mixing into something he hadn’t been able to describe to you in words.

“y’know what i mean,” he pants. you just smile, serene. you’re not teasing him on purpose, though you must admit it’s certainly entertaining to watch him fall apart, rather you’re taking the opportunity you thought you’d never get, exploring your lover's body with your touch, breathless at the feeling of skin against skin.

you finally grab his cock, feeling the thick, warm weight of it in your hand. you can feel the telltale buzzing under your skin, the sign that your powers are burning him, but he doesn’t try to pull away from you. rather, his hips jerk up, chasing more of the feeling. a bead of precum pearls at the tip, and you rub it down his shaft.

“you actually like this,” you muse, “you’re such a freak.”

the degrading comment only makes him groan, rutting his hips up to fuck into your fist. and he’s just so pretty, so lovely when he’s desperate, so as much as you want to play with him, spend hours making him beg, you don’t. because you need to see what he looks like when he’s falling apart.

you jerk him off slow, never letting the pressure relent. it’s a fight with your instincts, your mind telling you to let go before you hurt him, before he decides that he doesn’t actually like this, before he leaves like everyone else. but he heals as fast as you burn him, again and again.

you watch his face instead of your hand, focusing on the way his lips part with each sound he makes, the pleasure contorting his expression. he gets louder, warnings filling the space between you, and then his hips stutter, faltering, and you watch his eyes roll back as he cums, shooting thick ropes of white all over his own chest.

your eyes widen slightly at how quickly you’d made him cum, but he’s already hardening again in your hand, chasing the pleasure of his orgasm even as it fades.

“do it again,” he orders, though really he’s in no position to be making demands. still, you oblige, because it feels good to be able to hurt him and know he’ll always come back. you could definitely get used to this, and isn’t that a terrifying thought.

[reidsworld]

A Different Kind of Training

Summary: When sparring with Logan turns into something more.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: sparring, cursing, mentions of alcohol, teasing, flirting, kissing, making out, tit sucking, fingering, heavy petting, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), creampie, knife play? (the claws come out), use of Y/N, pet names (baby, bub, darlin’) — you are responsible for the content you consume, if you are not comfortable with any of these warnings or are a minor, DNI!!

Word Count: 2.8k

Mars speaks… Two fics in one day? What can I say, I’m a sucker for writing (and Logan Howlett). I originally wasn’t gonna write smut for this but I locked in and nearly 1.4k words of smut later, I’m happy with how it turned out! I was imagining Logan in X-Men but this gif is too hot not to use.

Masterlist

The sun was setting over Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, casting a warm, golden light through the large windows of the gym. The usual buzz of activity had quieted down, leaving you alone to get in some extra training. The silence was almost calming, a rare moment of peace after everything that had happened over the past few days.

You were lost in your thoughts, practising your kicks against a heavy bag, when the door creaked open. Without needing to look, you knew who it was. There was only one person who could move so silently yet make his presence known so effortlessly.

“Looks like someone’s been working hard,” Logan’s gruff voice came from behind you, a teasing edge to it. You could practically hear the smirk in his tone.

You turned, arching an eyebrow as you met his gaze. “Just trying to stay sharp. Didn’t expect you to drop in. Thought you’d be nursing a beer somewhere.”

He shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Beer can wait. Figured you could use some real training instead of beating up that bag.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, so you’re volunteering to be my punching bag?”

Logan pushed off the wall and strolled toward you, his movements fluid and controlled. There was always something captivating about the way he moved—like a predator, always aware of his surroundings, always ready to strike.

“Something like that,” he said, his voice low as he came to a stop a few feet from you. “If you think you can handle it, bub.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that tugged at your lips. “Big words, Wolverine. Hope you can back them up.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The session began as it always did—circling each other, testing the waters with light jabs and quick footwork. But there was an underlying tension tonight, more than usual. Maybe it was the way Logan’s eyes kept straying to your lips, or the way your heart raced every time he got close.

“You’re getting slow, old man,” you teased as you dodged a punch and spun away, landing a light tap on his shoulder.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk. “And you’re getting cocky. Might have to teach you a lesson.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, staring at each other. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, you both lunged forward, fists flying in a blur of motion.

The sparring intensified, the lighthearted banter replaced by focused determination. But even as you fought, there was a spark of playfulness, a dance of words and movements that only the two of you shared.

“Is that all you’ve got, bub?” Logan grunted as he blocked a kick and spun you around, his grip on your arm firm but not painful.

You twisted out of his hold, a sly smile on your lips. “Wouldn’t want to hurt your ego too much, Wolvie.”

His laughter was low and genuine, and it made something warm unfurl in your chest. Logan was a hard man, but moments like these—when he let his guard down, even just a little—made you feel like you were seeing the real him. The one beneath all the gruff exterior and adamantium claws.

As the session continued, you found yourself pushing harder, testing his limits just as much as your own. Each time he got close, you felt the heat of his body, the brush of his skin against yours, and it was becoming harder to focus on the fight and not on how much you wanted him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of back-and-forth, you saw your opening. With a quick feint, you managed to sweep Logan’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the mat with a surprised grunt.

You didn’t waste a second, straddling him and pinning him down with a triumphant grin. “Looks like I’ve got you.”

Logan looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “Seems so. What’s your plan now, darlin’?”

The way he said “darlin’” sent a jolt through you, and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, more charged. You leaned in closer, your faces just inches apart, your breath mingling with his.

“Maybe I’ll make you beg for mercy,” you whispered, your voice low and teasing.

Logan’s lips curled into a slow, wicked grin, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Or maybe I’ll turn the tables on you.”

The challenge in his voice was clear, and you felt your pulse quicken in response. But before you could think of a retort, Logan’s grip tightened, and with a swift, effortless movement, he flipped you over, reversing your positions so that he was the one hovering over you.

“Gotcha,” he murmured, his voice rough and gravelly, but his eyes were soft as they searched your face. He wasn’t pinning you down, not really—there was still room for you to escape, but neither of you made a move to do so.

The tension between you was palpable now, crackling in the air like electricity. Logan’s gaze flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes, as if asking permission. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest, but you gave a small nod, unable to find your voice.

That was all the encouragement Logan needed. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as fierce as it was gentle. It was like everything that had been building between you two—the banter, the flirting, the unspoken tension—was pouring out into that one kiss.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other’s. Logan’s eyes were still closed, his grip on your hip gentle but firm as if he didn’t want to let you go, while his other hand was on the floor, positioned next to your head.

He leaned down to lay passionate but gentle kisses against your neck.

You bit your lip, suppressing the almost vile moan that was on the tip of your tongue, feeling the warmth of his breath against your skin. “I’ve been waiting for you to make the first move.”

Logan chuckled, raising his head to look at you. “Guess I’m not as patient as I thought.”

You laughed softly, your fingers tracing the lines of his face. “Guess not.”

The mood between you had shifted, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something more intimate. You felt a connection with Logan that you hadn’t allowed yourself to fully acknowledge before, and now that it was out in the open, it felt right.

“So, what now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s eyes darkened with a new intensity, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about we take this workout somewhere more private? I’ve got a few ideas on how to… optimise our training.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the suggestive tone in his voice. “Lead the way,” you murmured, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Logan smirked, pulling back just enough to help you to your feet. But before you could move, he captured your lips in another heated kiss, this one more urgent, more demanding. It left you breathless, your knees weak as you clung to him for support.

When he finally released you, there was a hunger in his eyes that mirrored your own. Without another word, he took your hand and led you out of the gym, his pace quick and determined. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside, but you barely noticed, too focused on the man beside you.

Logan’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was filled with a quiet intensity as you both entered, the door closing behind you with a soft click.

Logan’s gaze was fixed on you, his eyes dark with an unspoken promise. He stepped closer, his rough hands finding your waist, pulling you gently towards him. The world outside seemed to fade away as you stood there, the anticipation crackling between you.

You looked up at him, your heart racing, as his hands slid up your back, his touch both firm and tender. “So, this is your idea of a private training session?” you teased, your voice breathless.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “Just thought we could continue our workout in a more…personal setting.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s lips were on yours, his kiss fierce and hungry. The sudden intensity took your breath away, but you melted into it, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, gripping him as you kissed him back with equal fervour.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer as if he wanted to absorb every inch of you. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. The roughness of his hands contrasted with the softness of your skin, creating a delicious tension that only heightened the experience.

Logan’s lips were warm and insistent, moving with a rhythm that made your pulse quicken. He gently pushed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours, the heat and strength of him undeniable. You responded eagerly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his.

The kiss was a dance of passion and exploration, each touch and caress filled with a mix of tenderness and desire. Logan’s hands slid down to your hips, his grip strong and possessive as he pressed you closer against him. You could feel the heat of his body, the hardness of his muscles, and it only made you want him more.

“Jump,” Logan said, though it sounded more like a grunt than actual words. As you jump, his arms catch you, holding you by both of your legs as your hands threaded through his hair. You could feel him straining against his pants while he walked you over to the bed. You looked up at him with a smirk from where he tossed you on the bed. You slowly begin to undress, leaving you bare in front of him with the exception of your bra and panties.

“Stunning,” He muttered under his breath as he stared at you in a trance. His hand travelled down to his aching bulge, palming himself at the sight of you.

“Just gonna stand there and stare or are ya gonna do something, Wolvie.”

He let out an almost animalistic growl as he climbed on top of you, capturing your lips with his. His rough hands hands felt smooth against your skin as they travelled across your body. He pulls away from you, looking at his hands as his claws come out. He gently slides a claw under your bra, snapping it, freeing your breasts.

His claws retract and discard the bra across the room. His head quickly dives down to your tits, mouth latching onto one of your hard nipples as his hand kneads at the neglected breast. A yelp escapes your lips as he gently bites down on your nipple.

Your hands twine themselves in his hard, tugging gently as he moves his attention to your other breast. As he focuses on your breast, he shifts so that his elbow is holding him up while playing with your breast. His free hand slides down your body, slipping into your panties.

His fingers brush over your clit, making you let out a very solicited moan. His fingers run up your slit, making him groan.

“Fuck, you're already so wet and I’ve barely done anything yet, bub,” you let out an almost pathetic whimper in response. You feel him rut against your leg, attempting to get some much-needed relief. One of your hands leaves his hair and moves to push off his pants before planning him through his underwear, earning a groan from his lips.

You gasp as you feel one of his thick fingers enter you, pumping and curling in and out. It feels so good, all you can do is moan out his name. Looking into your eyes, he pulls you into a kiss as another finger slips into you. He swallows your moan with his mouth.

“Logan, ‘m so close baby,” you moan into his lips before whimpering at the loss of contact as his hand pulls your of you.

“Need to be inside you, want you to cum around my cock, darlin’” he says making you nod quickly, pulling your hand away from his groin.

He stands up, pulling off his boxers. As his cock frees, it slaps against his stomach and you almost whimper at the sheer size of it. His claws slowly extend out of his fist. He crawls back on top of you before using one of his claws to gently rip off your panties.

He positions himself at your entrance and looks up at you for approval.

“Please Logan just fuck me already.”

Gently and slowly, he pushes himself inside of you. His head falls back at the feeling of you around him. You wince at the slight sting from the size of him. He slows down and looks at you. You nod at him and moan as he bottoms out.

The two of you stay still for a minute as you adjust to him.

“Ok, you can move now, Lo.”

“How d’ya want it darlin’?” his raspy voice sounds out, making you even wetter.

“Rough baby, I thought this was supposed to be private training not–,” you tease him but are quickly cut off by your own moan as he roughly pulls out to the tip before slamming back in. His hands grip your legs, pulling them over his shoulder before moving to tightly grip the pillows next to your head. Your arms move up my your head, loosely wrapping around his.

The room is filled with loud moans and grunts as he fucks you. One of his hands moves down to circle your clit, making you cry out at the feeling. He drops one of your legs off his shoulder, changing the angle slightly.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you scream out as he pistons into your sweet spot. He throws his head back with a loud growl as your pussy clenches around him.

“Holy shit bub, so fuckin’ tight, wrapping around me just right.”

You hear the loud noise of his claws right next to your head as they extend into the bed. He uses them to give him more leverage as he fucks you harder, making you arch your back.

“‘M so close baby,” you moan into his ear as his head drops to your neck.

He doesn��t give up his relentless pace as he brings you closer to your orgasm. The sounds of his feral grunts in your ear throw you over the mess, making you scream as your insides tighten and you cum around his cock.

“Almost there,” he says as his thrusts become sloppier and his dick twitches inside of you.

“Where d’ya want it?”

“Inside, please,” you say, desperately.

Logan moves to kiss your tender lips roughly as he cums in you with a loud groan. His thrusts slow down before he comes to a stop. He drops on top of you with heavy breaths as you both lie there in silence.

Slowly pulling out of you, Logan rolls onto his back next to you before you both turn your heads to look at each other. He grins at your fucked-out expression.

“That was even better than I imagined,” he admits.

“Same,” you agree as you lean over to kiss him, smiling against his lips and muttering as you pull away,

“This was definitely a different kind of training, but I think that I still need a little more work on my form, think ya could help?”

Mars speaks... (again) I don't think I've ever locked in more than I did for writing the smut part of this. Any feedback is greatly appreciated🫶

[tourturestarradio]

𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬?"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mutant reader

Prompt: He knew not to get attached, he knew better than that but he couldn't help himself, it always ended the same.

Warnings: typical violence stuff, blood, angst/ slight (???) comfort, character death, code name for reader is Venus (it won't be used a lot)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

Staring at the flower Bucky reached out to touch the petal, it was a Cyclamen flower. The petals were soft to the touch, taking in a deep breath he pulled his eyes away from the flower hearing Steve call out to him "Buck! come on" taking one last look at the flower he walked away a heavy feeling in his chest that didn't go unnoticed by Steve.

After that Bucky seemed off, like something was wrong. Overall he just seemed preoccupied, but he needed to clear his head asap seeing as it was putting the mission in jeopardy.

By the end of it they had just barely gotten the job done. Now Steve wasn't going to get all up and angry at him Bucky already seemed upset so he'll speak to him later when he feels more relaxed.

Upon getting back to Avengers headquarters, Steve glanced at Bucky "Buck" he called out, he looked back at his friend, a look of sadness still lingering on his face.

"Are you alright? You seemed distracted" he asked, Bucky paused thinking for a moment "yeah i'm fine" he answered, Steve looked at him "Bucky i've known you a long time, I know when you're lying" he pressed, Bucky let out a sigh "just seen something that reminded me of someone" he explained.

Steve focused his attention onto Bucky hoping he'd explain further but he didn't, "it was that flower wasn't it?" he asked, Bucky snapped his head over "thought I didn't notice" Steve said raising a brow, Bucky clicked his tongue "what type of flower was it?" he asked.

Bucky looked away but still answered "cyclamen flower" he muttered, "it was a flower someone I used to know used to grow" he explained, Steve tilted his head hoping he would explain further, "it was while I was under HYDRA's control" he added.

Steve nodded "do you want to talk about it?" he said crossing his arms, shaking his head Bucky walked away.

Entering his room Bucky sat running his hands through his hair memories of his days with HYDRA washing over him, well not HYDRA but his memories of you.

Venus, well that was your code name due to your mutation, you could grow and manipulate any life form that had a plant cell in it. That wasn't quite it though, that isn't where you got that name from though, it was an add on to your mutation.

You could split your face open, revealing a row of sharp teeth just waiting for the right person to stick their nose where it didn't belong and snap your jaw, well face shut like a Venus flytrap would.

Despite the brutal nature of your ability, you were the nicest agent among HYDRA, now don't be mistaken you weren't working for them willingly, you had no choice.

You'd destroy that place from the inside out if you could, but they quite literally had your heart in their hands. And the other soldiers liked you. So they'd let you patch up or heal the other super soldiers due to your ability.

After no matter if it was the tiniest cut or a bullet wound the winter soldier, would be back in your clinic. He just wanted a reason to be around you, which was a case for a lot of the other super soldiers. He wouldn't speak, but he'd still listen to what you told him, as you worked on him like it was a normal conversation.

You wouldn't pester him about his mission, and if he completed it or not, you'd do your job and take care of him. You didn't ever seem frightened or nervous to be around him like everyone else, you didn't hold your breath every time he moved.

Now you were nice but that didn't mean you were an idiot. You had encounters where a soldier tried to kill you more than once, so if a soldier got a little too rowdy you puff a decent amount of lavender powder into their face to keep them calm while you worked.

You always keep your guard up around everyone...except Bucky. You trusted him. No matter how many times he asked you the answer was always the same "you've given me no reason to distrust you." to you it was a simple answer.

But to him it meant the world, you knew all the wrong doings he did and yet you still trusted him. And it showed. If he was okay with it you'd stand close to him and go about your regular work.

If he'd asked to stay in the room with you for a little while longer you'd let him without question. There was so many times he could have killed you all the perfect opportunities and yet you'd still let him go close to you.

But you trusted him.

You cared for him.

He remembered it like it was yesterday, he'd returned from a tough mission limping into your clinic weakly calling out to you.

You grew out some tree vines to help him stay up, you cursed under your breath "I told them not to send you on another mission." you muttered, a few aconites growing out of your head as you tried to calm yourself.

Placing him down, you glanced up at his eyes "I'm taking this off okay?" you muttered, carefully you tugged off his tactical gear he muttered a small pained "okay" you cut off his blood stained shirt, Bucky groaned in pain you looked over the few bullet holes he had scattered across his torso.

To distract himself from the pain he glanced up at you "talk, please" he groaned, you thought to yourself for a moment before speaking "there's a plant called the corpse flower, it's the largest flower in the world it's about 10 feet tall and 3 feet wide if I remember correctly." you explain, taking out the bullets placing them aside.

"Why's...it called a corpse flower?" he asked, you took the last bullet out. You began cleaning the wound "well because when it blooms it smells like a corpse" you chuckled, grabbing a needle and thread you grew a lavender flower out of your palm "this'll hurt a bit, wanna go under for a bit?" you asked, Bucky shook his head "no, just keep talking" he stated.

You nodded placing the flower aside, "okay" you started patching him up "ya'know when I grow things I get a little connection to them, I can feel what they feel for a moment" you hummed, Bucky glanced at you for a second but he didn't say anything.

"You got a favorite flower?" you asked, he shook his head he could barely remember the flowers you'd talk about but he remembered what they looked like, you'd grow them and tell him what each flower symbolized. There was one and only one flower he'd remembered.

"Hellebores" He muttered, it was a flower that could bloom even in the winter time.

You looked a little shocked for a moment muttering "you remembered..." a small smile gracing your face. It was very rare for any of the soldiers to remember any of your previous conversations, so to you, you wanted to jump for joy but you'd have to keep calm for now.

You walked away for a moment, grabbing some bandages "okay snowflake sit up for me please" you commanded, Bucky never understood why you called him that so he finally mustered up the courage to ask "why do you call me that?" he asked, slowly sitting up.

Standing in between his legs you started wrapping a bandage around his torso, letting him smell the faint scent of dirt and flowers coming off of you."Well um, I don't like calling you a soldier or winter soldier. It feels dehumanizing, like you're nothing but a weapon." you explain.

Looking at his tense blue eyes before looking back down "ya'know? I know it sounds stupid, but I just think it's wrong, and I like snowflake better" you finished, a smile gracing your face.

Your smile was so soft, welcoming, you were standing so close to him. He could observe you, he could see the faint light in your eye the way you lightly bit your lip as you focused on wrapping him up. He was so close he could just-

"hm-um Snowflake?" you blinked, feeling his flesh hand touching your face, his fingertips running over cheek. Once he realized what he was doing he yanked his hand away as if you'd burned him.

He muttered a small "sorry" to which you replied "it's okay" simply. Though you made a note of how comfortable he was enough to touch you.

He stared at you his heart thumping faster, you were about to move backwards when he grabbed onto you, not want you to move away just yet.

"Oh!...do you need something?" you asked, blinking he let go "grow me a flower." he commanded, you tilted your head "that's now how you ask" you say, putting away your things, the soldier sighed.

This is what he means, you treat him like he was just a regular person like a...friend. He was a super soldier, and you were making him say 'please' like he was a child.

You crossed your arms waiting for him to say it, it got to a point where you were both having a stare down before he inevitably gave up "grow me a flower...please." he mumbled, you smiled "there you go sweetpea." you hummed, holding out both your hands Bucky saw a misty glow come from your palms a large flower growing before blooming into a pink camellia.

"What does this one mean" he asked, running his hand over the petals, you plucked the flower from your hands "it...means to live a good life" you lied through your teeth placing the flower aside.

Bucky stood up "why'd you pick that flower?" he asked, You gulped trying to subvert the conversation "well you're a lot more talkative today" you hummed, you knew it was wrong, you shouldn't grow so attached but you couldn't help yourself.

Bucky made a face but before he could press further, before the door to your clinic burst open "Soldier on your feet" one of the men said, Bucky turned his attention towards the handlers, standing up without hesitation.

"You'll be flying out tomorrow, prepare yourself" he spoke loud and clear, you snapped your attention towards the group of men.

Before Bucky could leave thorn vines shot out to block his path "no he will not." you stated, the men looked over "and what position do you think you have to stop him?" he stated, cocking his head to the side.

"He needs time to heal. He barely made it out of his last mission before sending him on another one. He may be a super soldier but he's still a fucking human" you state a disgusted look on your face. The thorns growing sharper.

Orange lilies and tansy flowers growing around you the more irritated you got. The men knew not to push you too far you were friendly but were still a mutant, and you weren't very fond of the handlers, scientist, and agents that worked for HYDRA. You only gave a form of sympathy to the soldiers.

Who knows what horrors you would do when you were angry. The main man clenched his fists "he gets a week to recover." he stated before turning his heel and leaving "damn mutant" he spat.

You relaxed your posture, your thorn vines disappearing "sorry bout that Snowflake" you stated, Bucky didn't pay attention still thinking back to what you'd said earlier.

He's still a human?

He's still just a human.

You placed your hand on his arm snapping him out of his state "are you alright? You can stay here for the night if you want" you offer, Bucky shook his head "no." he stated, "are you sure..." you asked, concerned about how he seemed so stern again.

'We were just starting to make progress...' you thought to yourself, Bucky grabbed his things "i'll be going" he stated silently, you looked at him with a worried expression watching him go so suddenly.

Bucky knew he shouldn't get close to you, it would only cause trouble. He knew better, but he felt human around you, he could forget his troubles just for a moment. Just for a second.

But he knew it was wrong, it always ends the same...

And as much as he would like to be proven wrong, he knew he'd never know peace, or tranquility.

Not after the sins he faced, the lives he's taken, the lives he's ruined.

He couldn't taint you too, you were the last piece of hope he had at feeling whole, but he knew it would all come crashing down even if he wanted it to or not.

You were a lush green forest that thrived so well, and he was a forest fire waiting to turn you into ash.

And he proved himself right.

Soldiers had been going missing left and right, and the scientist that tortured them suddenly going missing as well.

While the soldiers weren't seen again the scientist bodies being found as an obvious warning. Someone was threatening them, and it was all too obvious who it was behind this.

Bursting into your office your head looked up a smile that graced your face upon seeing Bucky but disappearing as you realized he was brainwashed again, you'd been found out.

'Shit.'

Getting up quickly you grew enough thorn vines to wrap around him stopping him in his tracks.

Throwing him out of your office you quickly escaped out using your ability you created a wall of sturdy tree branches blocking the soldiers and Bucky from getting to you.

But it was futile as the wall was set aflame, you could feel the prickling heat burn your skin, but you kept moving despite the agony you felt.

Through the burning you felt something shoot through your abdomen, making you tumble into the ground. The pain almost made you vomit as you looked up seeing Bucky.

No, no that wasn't Bucky, nor Snowflake. That was the winter soldier staring you in the face, you created a wall surrounding you.

Bucky ripped the wall apart, you could have put up a fight if this was anyone else, but it wasn't anyone else.

You didn't want to hurt him.

The trust you built between each other slowly crumbled as he grabbed you by the throat squeezing hard "c-come on...Snowflake...it's me" you muttered through strained breaths.

He only tightened his grip, his cold blue eyes stared into your watery ones "please don't make me do this..." you whispered, that look in his eyes faltered for just a moment.

You were slowly getting through to him but your vision was growing blurry, you didn't have time to talk him down, so without missing a beat you spit a powdery substance into his face before kicking him sternly in the chest.

He dropped you trying to wipe the powder off but it started to burn. Catching your breath you scrambled up on your feet running for the exit, you could hear him yelled out in pain as the gimpy gimpy powder started to set in.

You felt horrible but you had to escape, you did all you could by setting those new super soldiers free, that was your only goal and if you hadn't been discovered you'd continue on. You'd tell them where to go and who to find for help.

Before you could make it out you heard another gun shot ring out. this time closer to your heart making you collapse onto the ground, another super soldier grabbed you slamming you through a wall making you land outside.

The soldier pointed their gun at you muttering "traitor" but before they could pull the trigger a tree branch stabbed through their chest. You dropped your hand making the tree branch fall under your command.

Releasing a shaky breath you crawled further into the forest dragging yourself away, you could feel yourself getting weaker by the second.

Pulling yourself against a tree you tried healing yourself but your powers were unstable, you were unstable, gulping you felt a pit form in your stomach. Was this how you die? Shot by a man you wished to call your lover?

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you heard a twig snap, your tired eyes were wide open now seeing Bucky standing in front of you. You trembled in your place "please Snowflake..." you whimpered.

Holding his gun up you squeezed your eyes shut, and a gun shot rang out into the forest. But you didn't feel anything, looking beside you, you saw the tree had a bullet hole in it. Looking back you only heard Bucky mutter "don't move." you listened and made your body as limp as possible.

"Did you kill the traitor?" on the other soldiers asked, "yes." he said coldly, you dared not make a peep listening as the soldier walked away "mission complete" he stated.

Leaving only Bucky and you, slowly opening your eyes you looked at him "why did you-" "Go. Go and never come back" he stated, you gave him a small but tired smile "I couldn't even if I wanted to Snowflake" you say, lifting your shirt enough to show him the bullet wounds.

His eyes went wide.

No, this can't be happening...

You shuffle to sip up "this is the end of the line for me" you mutter, watching Bucky walk closer to you "Venus-" "Y/n....just call me Y/n" you sighed, Bucky tried to pick you up but your used your tree vines to pull him back "stop it, it's a waste I've lost too much blood" you explain.

He shakes his head "help. I'll get you help" he stated, he ignored your words guilt washing over him as he tried to suppress the heavy feeling in his chest.

You waved him off "Bucky it's fine, i'm right where I want to be, if I die I get to die where I belong, not in that horrid place." you hummed, running your hands over the dirt.

Bucky grabbed you again trying to move you "s-stop, stop! It'll be okay Snowflake, just know I lied about what the pink camellia meant" you chuckled.

This was no time to be laughing, Bucky cradled your face in his hands "...Y/n...I'm-I'm sorry" he muttered, you shook your head feeling how his hands trembled.

"that wasn't you, it's okay, just never forget no matter how hard they try to make it seem... you're not just a soldier, you aren't a weapon, you aren't a monster, you are your own person" you said, blood spilling from your lips.

The light in your eye that Bucky grew to love was slowly fading, mimicking his and there was nothing he could do. His eyes were glossed over "...please don't..." Bucky whispered, a hammering feeling in his heart.

He dropped his head not wanting to face this harsh reality. But you carefully raised his head, your once warm hands now cold and clasping his. "Snowflake please, please look at me" you called out.

He slowly lifted his head up "it'll be okay...you know my favorite flower is a cyclamen flower, I don't think I ever told you that" you muttered, cyclamens started to grow up and out of you covering you're body as Bucky tried to swat them away.

"Snowflake...come here" you muttered your grip on him growing weaker he leaned closer, you used the last bit of your ability to push yourself forward pressing a small kiss to his forehead.

"I love you...please don't forget me..."

And just like that.

You were gone.

The one person who made him feel safe, was gone. That cold feeling washing over him again, laying you backwards against the tree he noticed your smiled stayed in place while your body became one with the earth around you.

-★-

Peeling his eyes open he could feel something wet touching his face, quickly wiping his face he realized a few tears had fallen, with a sigh he looked to the potted flower that was on his nightstand touching the petals he wished you could see how far he's come.

He looked at the pink camellia, knowing you'd be happy to see him taking care of one of your favorite flowers.

Getting up he walked out missing the way the flower subtly moved to feel his touch again.

.

.

.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: Expect more Bucky stories, the amount of research I had to do to figure out what different flowers meant, ughhh anyway I have plans that I cannot share with you right now *insert that one freaky sonic meme* anyway thanks for reading!!!! Have a good day/night!

[makeupbychio]

THE suit // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: Now that you are officially part of the x-men team you need a suit. After the help from Hank and Charles to make the suit you kept the final result as a secret to Logan until he saw you in your first mission in THE suit. More than one time you needed more than one suit, not just because Logan will rip off a lot of them, but for other reasons. 

Warnings: Jealous Logan and being a little bit of a brat, Hank and Charles cameo, insecurity towards your body and powers, use of your powers (ecokinesis), Logan being the best protective and comforting boyfriend, mentions of smut, suggestive language, mentions of pregnancy.

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: So thanks for the anon for the request!! Once again, a reminder that english is not my first language. I put angst, fluff and mentions of smut so I hope you like this. Also, reminder that this is a safe place for all body sizes so that's why I don’t mention specifics measurements for the suit. ALSO, you can read this with my previous Logan fic TRAINING SEASON, this is them days after you are officially an x-men. Enjoy, love y’all!! <3. 

italics = past. 

— — —

“Hold on, wait. Hank is going to do your suit?” Logan stopped the conversation. You two at the cafeteria grabbing a late night snack. You took the pause to give a bite to your apple. 

“What about it? The Professor told me Hank did all of them” you answered him without any worry in your mind and didn't  understand why he had that frowning look on his face.

”I think Storm should be in charge since your powers are related to nature too”. Logan suggested, trying not to be an asshole. You understand where this was going when he sighed. 

“But Lo, the Professor designed the suits, Hank is just going to sew it and for that he needs to take the correct measurements” you refreshed Logan’s mind, like if it wasn’t obvious that a suit was not going to sew it itself. 

So after that Logan just stopped insisting about it. He trusted Hank of course but something was itching his brain. If he knew you already had an appointment with Hank last week to take the first measurement and the Professor explaining to you how he designed it for you and your powers. 

“So, Y/N. If you didn’t know, Hank came up with the idea to make the suits bulletproof and for your powers we needed to incorporate more resistance to heat changes in case your whole body is on fire or ice. So we needed to play with all of the opposite and different scenarios of the element you were going to manipulate or become, please try it on”. Charles explained to you the work behind your suit. You just nodded, but the Professor can read your mind and know your excitement when you ran to change your clothes and came back with the suit on.

“So you can basically turn into stone one moment and then disappear like air, so we create something that can resist that range of changes, and also of course something to be comfortable for you”. Hank added, proud of the technology he put in the suit while you looked at yourself in the mirror. “You can try it and test what I’m talking about”. 

So you did it, always careful not to hurt them. They were so happy with the final results and you couldn’t thank them enough and can’t wait any longer to wear it. 

“See you next week, Y/N”. The Professor reminded you about the final meeting to correct some details. 

So after that late snack, you both went to bed and before your appointment with Hank, Logan just stopped by his office and greeted him with a casual smile. 

“Logan, how can I help you? Y/N is not here” Hank thought he was there to be with you once you tried on your suit. 

“Don’t worry, she’s still in bed sleeping in our room” Logan gave a cocky smile and highlighted the ‘our’. “Actually I’m here to help YOU. In case you needed help with her suit, just to let you know that I made you a list of her measurements” Logan handed him a piece of paper with the different sizes of the clothes you have. He really thought that was going to work. “You’re welcome, so you don’t have to take the measurements yourself” He smiles proud of himself. 

Hank laughed and didn’t want to ruin Logan’s intention. He just thanked him, if Logan knew the suit was ready in the lab for you to try it and make the last changes. 

“Oh! I almost forgot” Logan turned to Hank before leaving his office. “She’s the smartest person I know, don’t get offended so I’m pretty sure she’s going to give you some ideas for the suit” he made a pause imagining you giving instructions to Hank. “And her favorite color is purple” Logan finally leaves the room without letting Hank answer. Heading himself to the dining room proud of his work. 

Hours later, you went directly to the lab where Hank and the Professor told you to meet. “Okay Y/N so tell us how you feel it, if you want to change something” Hank looked at you looking in the mirror. 

It was really comfortable even when it was really tight to your body. You felt so much confidence, you saw the x mark on it, that wasn’t on the suit the last meeting you had. Also it made justice to your figure and your beautiful curves. 

“Thanks again, it fits perfectly. But Hank I just wanted to ask you if it’s possible if you could add something to the suit…” Hank is paying attention to you. “If there could be like- I don’t know- something for you guys to know which element I’m manipulating or about to, so you don’t get yourself hurt out there during a mission” you asked him nervously because they are the experts.

”Mmmhh, it’s a really good idea but the enemy can use that information too against us to advance an attack” Hank really liked the idea but they had a surprise for you. 

“So dear, we also wanted for you to try this suit too” the Professor went to reach the suit he was talking about. Hiding it inside a box that was wrapped like a gift. 

“Guys, what is this?” you were in total awe when you opened the box. They know how easily you get emotional. Tears are already forming in your eyes. 

“We wanted for you to have your own suit, something that will be just for YOU…” Hank started explaining. “All of us have something that characterizes ourselves and our powers, so someone told us your favorite color is purple and it contrasts perfectly the green that represents your powers…” Hanks kept talking because you went speechless. “I know it sounds cliché to add green for your ecokinesis, if you don’t like it we can change it” he suggested.

You just ran to hug them because it was perfect. “So for your ideas you gave us, we design this…” the Professor handed you another box, but this time smaller. You opened it so fast. “We created these gloves for the changes of elements. So you can use it in the field or on a daily basis” you tried on them immediately and it blew your mind the technology it has, how it’s connected to you to change the colors related to the element, it sparkles so that makes them AMAZING.

“The gloves are more for the missions, because with the suit you hold your powers in case you are not conscious. Also the gloves help you to give your attack a precise target. We’ll learn more about both items while training” Hank explained. 

So when you first wore the x-men suit, you were so nervous about the mission, about everything so you changed clothes in your room. Thinking if this was a good idea. Literally everyone was waiting for you to step into the plane. 

“I’m going” Storm was about to go and search for you when you stepped into the ship. “There you are! K’ let’s go” Storm yelled at Scott to go.

Logan almost fainted, his claws making an appearance without previous warning. He quickly put them back, he was so excited he couldn’t resist to stay close to you. His flirting helped you to stop your nerves. “Sugar, you look amazing…” he gave you a kiss on your check, sitting next to you on the ship. He came closer to your face, whispering “I hope they made like a hundred suits because as soon as we're back in the mansion I’m going to rip it off. God, I can’t wait” You tried to hide the redness of your face, you warned him to behave. 

“Logan, I’m pretty sure the Professor can read your mind, I don’t want to be kicked out of the missions. Or give us separated missions. Do you want me to be paired with Scott instead?” you asked him with a teasing smile. 

“I’m sorry, love. But did you see yourself in the mirror before coming?” Logan really insisted but not too much. “Don’t worry, you’re going to kick asses today and I’ll protect you till the end of times” 

Like I said before, Logan after that would take any opportunity to join you for fittings. Especially if something is different. Logan would be there next to you when you are not comfortable with your body. If you are not comfortable with your powers every time you discover something new about them. After years, he will always be there for you, sitting in front of you looking at you with awe and comforting you even when you’re were not feeling it. 

The only time you skipped a mission was when your suit was not crossing your figure. You tried on your x-men suit and your own suit they made you and it was not stretching enough. The team was on a rush so they let you stay at the mansion. 

Logan asked you when they were back about what happened and you just told him you were feeling under the weather. The Professor already knew the real reason. You distracted Logan enough for you to go to Hank's office. 

“Hi, Hank. Can I ask you something?” you stepped into the room worried. Hank welcomed you worried about your absence in the last mission. “I had a problem with the suit, actually both suits. Is it possible for the fabric to be even more stretchable?” you asked him. 

Next day, after telling Logan the truth about you expecting and how suddenly a big bump you had appeared. That time he almost fainted too. So both of you were in the lab, the Professor and Hank giving you the congratulations when Hank was taking notes of your new measurements for your suits.

“Be careful there, big boy” Logan growled at Hank when he put the measuring tape around your belly. Logan was so protective over you and now your baby. You laughed at him telling not to worry, Logan looking at you with charming eyes while you rub your belly looking at yourself in the mirror. So this was really happening, starting a family.

Hank explained to you your new suits, which were going to be more comfortable for you considering the bump was going to grow even more. But the only thing Logan could think about is to protect you even more out there in the field. 

“Lo, look at me. I can do this” you hold his face when back in the room he told you to reject some missions that were too dangerous just to be cautious. He was scared that if you got injured really bad in your state. He was not going to stop you from going to the missions, because he knows you are one of the strongest and with a single snap you can beat your enemy but he can’t help himself from worrying. “And if I’m not feeling good or at my best to fight I’ll stay here”. you kissed him to calm him down. 

“I know, mama. You are the baddest out there. They could never beat you even if they tried” Logan kissed you back and kneeled to kiss your belly. “I wonder which powers our baby is going to inherit”. Next time Logan went to Hank’s office was to ask for a tiny x-men suit to surprise you. Hank couldn’t say no to Logan because he found a really cute gesture from him even when he had a lot of work left to do. 

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

I literally LOVE vampire reader. How would Logan react to the reader hanging upside down like a bat and their fangs are out???? (I really really love the concept of this idea msljxucjd AHHHHHHHH)

As your friendship grew, Logan believed he was finally getting used to your mutations. Throughout the many years he's lived, he has had many different experiences with vampire, there was never a relationship that blossomed with any of them, but fuck did he want one to grow with you.

He overheard you talking to Charles about needing the next week off, and he couldn't help but get curious. All he knew was that you requested a few extra blood bags and to be completely left alone until you came back.

Logan couldn't help himself, and he let his curiosity lead him to Charles to ask questions, but instead of answers he was given a lecture over easdropping, so he went to find you. When he did find you, you just gave him a soft smile and a shake of your head, "don't worry about it Wolvie, I just need to take care of somethings I'll be back for our plans Saturday."

Logan was a bit upset over the fact that you wouldn't tell him what you were having to do. Maybe he could help? He had witnessed you using your strength. He watched you break Colossus's hand. He had witnessed your help during sleepless nights. He just wanted to help you for once.

.

.

He didn't mean to intrude. He didn't mean to even find you! He had honestly forgotten all about you disappearing for the week. Well, he didn't forget he really was missing you, and this past week was shit for him, so he really could've used some time with you. It physically made his heart ache when he thought about how strong his feelings for you were. It's been so long since he cared about someone the way he cared about you, he didn't want to fuck things up but it was killing him to not be near you. Maybe I should just tell them?

He had been looking for his leather jacket when he remembered that he let you have it during the last outing the team had. "Dammit," he mumbles as he looks at your bedroom door, remembering how pretty you looked in his jacket. Your voice echoed through his head, reminding him that you asked to be completely alone for the week... but he'd be so quick! He just needed to grab his jacket. How long would that take? You wouldn't even know he ever intruded. He listened closely through your door, and he didn't hear any motion within the room. Maybe he had missed you? He could've sworn you told Charles you'd be in your room for the week. He shrugged and walked into your room to grab what he needed, but before he could, a soft gasp left his lips before he could hold it back.

He was met with you resting, hanging upside from your ceiling. Your mouth was open just enough for your fangs to glisten from the small ray of light coming from the hall now that the door was open. He was completely taken back from what he was seeing. Not only was he confused about you sleeping; I could've sworn they said they don't sleep? But you were the most beautiful sight he's ever seen in his long life. Logan took a step back and really took in your figure. "Fuckin' beautiful..." He mumbled to himself in complete awe. Before he could stop himself, his finger graced your cold cheek, and he allowed himself to prick his finger upon your fang.

Your eyes fluttered open as soon as you smelt blood. "Lo?" You asked groggy, your voice still completely filled with sleep. He says your eye colors change between your normal color and a bright red. You licked your teeth and groaned. "What are you? Did I bite you? My Gods, your blood tastes so sweet, " you whined, slightly confused. Logan blushed slightly, realizing he had just made you taste his blood. "I um... your fangs... they're, you're beautiful," He turned a brighter shade of red as he stumbled over his words.

You jumped down and stretched, "How long have you been in here? Aren't you old enough to know it's rude to stare?" You teasingly say as you grab one of the blood bags Charles provided for you. Logan cringed slightly, knowing he'd been caught, "I thought you don't sleep. Aren't you old enough to know it's rude to lie, sweetheart?" He smirked, feeling himself relax as he heard your laugh, "I don't need to sleep every night, just during the full moon" you stated while pointing towards your calendar, "it was this past week, what did you miss me or something?" You asked, winking at him. You felt a sense of pride start to form in your chest as you watched him blush again.

"You have no idea darlin', no fuckin idea"

Tagging:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

Lmk if you'd like to be tagged in future Logan stuff! Request are open!!

[itwillbethescarletwitch]

Echoes of the Phoenix 

bob floyd x mutant!fem!reader

lowkey an x-men crossover (she’s literally jean grey but a different name)

requested by @lovelyypythoness

The kitchen smelled like fresh basil, butter, and something else Bob couldn’t name—but whatever it was, it felt like home.

His back rested against the doorway, arms crossed loosely over his chest as he watched Y/N hum quietly to herself, barefoot in an oversized sweatshirt, stirring something in a copper pot. Her hair was up in that slightly messy bun she always twisted in the back of her head when she cooked. It bounced a little every time she danced in place to whatever 80s playlist she had going.

He didn’t say anything yet. Just watched her for a second. He liked this version of her—warm light on her skin, socked feet sliding against the tile, perfectly at ease. She looked like someone who’d never had a bad day in her life. That was the thing about Y/N L/N. She looked untouched by the world.

And yet…

There were moments.

Moments where Bob felt like she was trying not to touch anything too tightly. Or feel anything too deeply.

“You’re staring again,” she said without turning around.

Bob smirked. “Can you blame me?”

She glanced back, one eyebrow arched. “I could. But then I’d be a hypocrite.”

He crossed the room and leaned over her shoulder, brushing his nose softly against her temple. “What’s this?”

“Risotto,” she replied casually. “And I might’ve bribed someone at that little shop downtown for real truffle oil, so if you don’t like it, we’re breaking up.”

He chuckled. “Noted.”

It was easy between them. Always had been. The kind of easy Bob Floyd wasn’t used to. Three months in, and it still caught him off guard—how quickly she’d carved out space in his life. In his chest.

He’d never dated someone like her before. Not just because of the quiet mystery she wore like perfume, or the way she could navigate any conversation and still tell you almost nothing about herself.

It was something else.

Something quiet.

Something… buried.

He couldn’t name it. But he felt it.

Especially when she’d go still for no reason. When she’d shut down conversations about her past with a soft smile and a subject change. When her eyes seemed to flicker with something hot and electric—and just as quickly, it was gone.

But every time he thought to press, she gave him a look. One of those soft, careful looks that said please don’t.

So he didn’t.

Yet.

—

They ate on the balcony, legs tangled under the table, the city lights stretching far below them.

Y/N was laughing at something stupid he said—truly laughing, eyes scrunched and shoulders shaking. Bob was sure the sound could keep stars alive.

But just as suddenly, she stopped. Just for a second. He watched the laughter dim from her eyes like a light going out, replaced by something sharp and calculating. Not panic. But control.

“You good?” he asked gently.

She blinked once. Then smiled like nothing had happened. “Yeah. Sorry. Just… remembered something dumb.”

Bob didn’t believe her. But he didn’t say so.

That was starting to become a pattern.

—

Later, they were curled up on the couch, a blanket over both of them, movie playing quietly in the background.

Bob felt her breathing slow. She was drifting off, curled into his side with her cheek against his chest. And he was drifting, too, fingertips tracing soft circles into her spine.

Until the screen suddenly cut to black.

Bob sat up a little, confused. “What the…”

The TV blinked. Static. Then returned to the menu screen.

Y/N stirred. “Power surge?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Weird though. Weather’s fine.”

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, suddenly wide awake. “Old wiring, probably. Or… I don’t know. My fault for buying a smart TV on a holiday sale. Want me to reboot it?”

He looked at her, not the screen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “Just tired.”

But the tension in her shoulders said otherwise.

—

He kissed her before he left that night. Soft and slow. She kissed him back like she was afraid she wouldn’t get the chance again.

As the door closed behind him, she exhaled hard and leaned against it. Her eyes burned with unshed panic.

She didn’t even realize the wine glass on the counter behind her was cracked until it finally gave out with a delicate tink—and shattered completely.

She didn’t move. Just stared at it. Then whispered to herself:

“Keep it together. Just a little longer.”

———

Bob never really believed in gut feelings.

But lately, his gut had been screaming at him.

He was still thinking about the wine glass. He hadn’t seen it break, but Y/N’s text that night was short, almost too casual.

“Dropped a glass. All good. Don’t worry.”

He hadn’t mentioned it, but something about her tone—like she was trying to convince herself more than him—had stuck.

And this morning? She was quiet again. Not in the sleepy, post-date kind of way. In the guarded, “I’m here but not really” kind of way. He noticed the way she gripped her coffee cup a little too tightly. The way her eyes scanned the café like she was listening for something no one else could hear.

“You okay?” he asked for the second time in ten minutes.

“I’m fine,” she said again, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

And just like that, her wall was back up.

Bob hated how practiced she was at that. Like she’d been doing it her whole life.

⸻

Later that day, he was walking with Phoenix—Lieutenant Natasha Trace—across base. She was his wingman, his best friend, and the one person with the guts to call him out when something was up.

“You’ve been in your head all day,” she said, adjusting her aviators. “Spill.”

He hesitated. “It’s Y/N.”

Phoenix stopped walking. “What’d she do?”

“Nothing,” Bob said quickly. “That’s the thing. It’s just… weird stuff keeps happening.”

She tilted her head. “Weird how?”

He shrugged, uncomfortable. “Like… I don’t know. She zones out. Rooms go weirdly cold. Lights flicker. Stuff falls over. She always has an excuse, but—”

“But your gut’s telling you she’s lying,” Phoenix finished.

“Not lying,” Bob said quietly. “Just… hiding something.”

Phoenix gave him a look, one he knew too well. “You think she’s cheating?”

“No,” he said immediately, surprising even himself with how certain he was. “I don’t think it’s that.”

“Then what do you think it is?”

Bob opened his mouth.

Closed it.

Ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. But something’s off.”

⸻

That night, they went out to dinner.

Nothing fancy. Just a quiet place tucked away in the corner of the city. Somewhere they could pretend they were normal.

Y/N looked beautiful—black blouse, hair half-up, gold jewelry catching the candlelight. She smiled, she laughed. She ordered for both of them like always.

But Bob kept catching her glancing around. Like she was waiting for something to go wrong.

“You keep looking over your shoulder,” he said gently. “Are you expecting someone?”

Her fork paused mid-air. “No. Just… habit.”

“Bad one,” he murmured.

She didn’t answer.

—

They were halfway through dessert—something chocolatey and rich, the kind of thing Bob always tried to say no to and never could—when the waiter passed a little too close.

It happened fast.

A shoulder bump. A wobble.

And then—splash.

Ice-cold water soaked Y/N’s lap. The entire glass emptied itself across her dress, dripping from the table, pooling onto the floor. It was freezing. Shocking.

“Shit—” Bob reached for a napkin. “Are you okay?”

She jumped up from the booth, hands hovering, unsure of what to do with them. “I’m fine, I—sorry, I just—just need a second.”

The waiter was apologizing profusely, scrambling to mop up the mess, offering towels and murmured regrets. But Y/N wasn’t listening. Her eyes were distant. Her breath shallow.

Bob stood too, worry prickling his chest. “Y/N—”

“I’m okay,” she cut in, too quickly. “Just—give me a second, I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t wait for a response. She grabbed her purse and all but fled toward the exit, heels clacking sharply on the tile floor.

The waiter turned to Bob, still looking mortified. “Sir, we are so sorry. Your entire meal is on the house.”

Bob gave a polite nod, but his eyes were already on the door, heart thudding. Something about the way she left—too fast, too stiff—sent warning bells ringing in his head.

This wasn’t just about a spilled drink.

⸻

He found her outside around the corner of the restaurant. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, chin tucked down. Her wet skirt clung to her legs as the evening breeze cut across her skin. She was shivering, but it wasn’t just from the cold.

“Y/N,” Bob said gently, stepping toward her. “Hey. What just happened?”

She didn’t look at him. “Nothing. I just got water on me. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he said. “I’ve seen you laugh off worse. You’re shaking.”

She exhaled sharply. “I’m not shaking.”

“You’re trembling, and I don’t think it’s because of the ice water.”

Still, she didn’t speak. She just stared straight ahead, as if grounding herself against something invisible.

Bob waited a beat. Then: “This isn’t the first time something’s happened and you’ve shut down like this.”

That finally made her look at him—fast, defensive.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not accusing you,” he said quickly. “I’m just… I’m trying to understand you. Because sometimes it feels like you’re holding something back. Like you’re scared of letting me get too close.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. She didn’t have a retort ready this time.

He took a careful step closer. “If there’s something you’re not telling me, I’m not gonna push. But I don’t want to keep walking blind.”

A pause.

Then her voice came out quiet, a whisper so low he barely heard it.

“There is something.”

Bob’s stomach twisted. “Okay.”

“But you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

She hesitated. Every muscle in her body was pulled tight—like one wrong word would send her flying into pieces.

“I have psionic powers.”

He blinked. “What kind of powers?”

“I can move things. With my mind. I can hear people’s thoughts if I don’t block them out. I can feel too much at once, and sometimes it’s too loud. Sometimes I lose control.”

Bob stared, unsure whether to speak or just let her finish.

“I’ve tried to keep it in check,” she said. “But when I feel too much—when I’m angry, scared, hurt—things start to happen around me. Lights flicker. Objects move. Glass breaks. That’s why I’ve been acting weird. That’s why I leave. I’m not cheating on you—I’m trying to protect you.”

Bob let out a quiet breath. “That’s what you were hiding?”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say I’m crazy,” she snapped. “Go ahead. That’s what everyone says.”

“I’m not saying that,” he replied gently. “I’m saying I’m trying to wrap my head around it.”

“You wanted honesty,” she said. “Now you’ve got it.”

A gust of wind rushed between them—sharp and sudden. Somewhere above, a streetlight flickered.

Bob took a step back and looked at her again—really looked.

The way her hair lifted slightly in the breeze, though the wind had already passed. The way her hands were clenched into fists, but not touching anything—and yet his shoelaces started to slowly untie themselves.

He stared.

Y/N’s expression crumbled. “See? This is what I mean. This is why I didn’t want to tell you—because it’s real, and it’s terrifying.”

Bob was silent. And then he said, very softly:

“I believe you.”

She looked up, stunned.

“I don’t know how this works. I don’t know what it means. But I believe you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s lip trembled.

“I’ve flown next to missiles at Mach 10,” he added. “You think a woman who can throw a vase with her mind is gonna scare me off?”

And that’s when her shoulders finally dropped.

———

The wind had quieted by the time Bob gently reached out and wrapped his fingers around Y/N’s hand.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. You can stay at my place tonight. I’ll grab you something oversized and comfy.”

Y/N didn’t resist. Her walls were down. Her eyes shimmered, but she nodded once and followed him.

⸻

The drive to his place was quiet—comfortable, despite the knot of emotion still curling in Y/N’s stomach. Bob kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the console, close enough that her fingers grazed his once or twice. Neither said a word.

When they arrived, Bob handed her a clean T-shirt and a pair of joggers that hung off her frame in that perfect, boyish way. She disappeared into the bathroom to change, and when she emerged—damp hair pulled back, his clothes swallowing her—Bob felt his heart trip in his chest.

She looked soft. Fragile, even. But there was something electric beneath her skin, and now he knew what it was.

“Hey,” he said, offering her a warm mug of tea. “Figured you could use something not ice-cold.”

She smiled faintly and sat beside him on the couch.

They didn’t speak for a few seconds. The clock ticked. The storm in her chest hadn’t passed. Bob could feel it—he just didn’t know what direction it would go next.

Finally, he broke the silence. “So… how did you come to have powers like that?”

Y/N glanced down at the mug in her hands.

“I was born with them,” she said quietly. “I’m what they call a mutant. Some of us don’t show signs until we’re older. But me? Mine kicked in young.”

He didn’t interrupt.

She took a slow breath, voice trembling just a little.

“When I was nine, my parents were driving me home from school. I’d had a bad day—some kid was picking on me, saying I was a freak, and I… I got upset. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but the next thing I knew… the car spun out. My dad lost control. I screamed—and then we hit a tree.”

Bob’s stomach sank.

“They didn’t make it. I did.”

She swallowed. Her fingers tightened around the mug.

“A week later, someone showed up—said there was a school for kids like me. A place where I could learn to control it. They tried their best. But even there, they said I was… different. They said what I could do was ‘otherworldly.’” Her voice hardened slightly. “Didn’t exactly make me feel safer. Or less alone.”

Bob reached over and gently brushed his fingers against hers. She didn’t flinch this time.

“For a while,” she continued, “I stayed. I trained. I even started helping people. Back home, people called me a hero.”

There was a pause. The air shifted.

“But then something happened,” she said.

“What?” Bob asked gently.

Her voice dropped. “His name was Peter. Peter Maximoff.”

Bob nodded slowly. “A boyfriend?”

She nodded once. “He was fast. Like, faster-than-sound fast. Could cross a city in seconds. He was reckless. Always thought he could outrun danger.”

A pause.

“I loved him,” she admitted. “God, I loved him.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked down again.

“One night, we got caught in something. A mission gone wrong. I saw it—everything—going sideways. I tried to hold it together, tried to use my powers to stop what was happening, to protect him.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“But he pushed me out of the way. He thought he could outrun the blast. I begged him not to. And then—he ran anyway.”

Bob stayed still, listening, heart breaking slowly.

“He didn’t make it. And I couldn’t stop it. I tried. I used everything I had, but it wasn’t enough. And after… after, everyone just looked at me like I was the one who killed him.”

Her voice cracked.

“Sometimes I think I did. If I hadn’t lost control, if I hadn’t been there—maybe it would’ve gone differently.”

Bob shook his head. “You didn’t kill him.”

She looked at him, tearful, wide-eyed.

“He killed himself, Y/N. He made the choice. You tried to save him. That’s not the same.”

“But if I lose control with you—if I get overwhelmed—what if something happens again?”

Bob leaned forward, gently placing a hand on her knee.

“I’m not Peter. And you’re not who you were then. You’ve spent your whole life protecting people—from yourself, from the world. But you don’t have to protect me from you.”

She stared at him.

“I know you’re scared,” he said. “But that doesn’t make you dangerous. It makes you human. And it makes you someone worth staying for.”

Her breath hitched.

Then—

CRACK.

The mug in her hands shattered—splitting clean down the middle, spilling tea across her lap. She gasped and jumped back instinctively.

“Oh my god—”

But Bob didn’t flinch.

He simply reached over, took her shaking hands in his, and said, “It’s okay. Let it happen.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“I know.”

He gently wiped the tea from her wrist with his sleeve, then pulled her into his arms.

And for the first time in a long time, she let someone hold her through the chaos.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[electricgg]

Is Conner gonna be a love interest???, pretty please say yes. (I need me my Conner serotonin) If so, please make don't make him a yandere. Im'm here for the soft love >>>>:3

Omg I’m so sorry for answering so late!! My tumblr has been bugging so much lately!!

But yes! Conner is indeed going to be Maximoff’s love interest. It’s not going to be a fully fledged relationship because the story is not focusing on romance, just some tension, flirting and crushes.

And don’t worry, he won’t be a yandere! That’s just the batfam✨

Stay tuned, because on the next chapter after my break, he’s making a light appearance once again before making daily appearances on the future chapters 🥰✨

(Been thinking of many dynamics for those two. And Smallville!Tom Welling is calling to me because he can give Conner that cocky energy but I don’t know yet.)

[rosepinks-world]

WHEN SHE SQUEEZED ME TIGHT, SHE NEARLY BROKE MY SPINE!

logan howlett x fem reader

logan meets wades friend in the void and to his surprise and dismay she’s stronger than he is.

a/n: powers are basically my girl queen maeves

After Wade had got beaten up by every Wolverine variant he encountered he decided to call in the big guns.

“Y/n I need your help jumping into different multiverses to find a new Wolverine.”

“…Well I ain’t got nothing better to do.”

You were not a hero. You knew from a young age the world was poisoned with corruption and evil so naturally you decided to take matters into your own hands. You were unwillingly experimented on and as a result gained intensified strength and healing factors the perfect combination to become an infamous assassin- which is how you met Wade.

After a while of searching, you met the best Wolverine you could possibly find. Although hope began to fade when you and Wade watched in horror as he chugged a whole bottle of whiskey and passed out on the floor.

You easily hoisted the unconscious man onto your shoulders and carried him out of the bar letting Wade transport you back to the building that you learned was called the ‘TVA’ You threw Wolverine down harshly as Wade presented him to the man who reminded you of someone from pride and prejudice.

Mr Darcy Paradox was not happy. Was it because you had plucked the so called ‘worst’ Wolverine from a different timeline? That Wade had broken his nose? Or because you were now suddenly involved when you really shouldn’t be? Ultimately, he immediately transported the three of you to the void.

You sat criss crossed on the floor, drawing random patterns in the sand as you waited for the two men infront of you to gain consciousness.

Logan jolted up looking around erratically. He made eye contact with you and looked you up and down before he yelled a rather polite: “Who the fuck are you?”

You went to answer but Wade finally woke up.

“That’s Y/n she’s basically an off brand Wonder Woman.”

You gave Wolverine a bright innocent smile and Logan brushed off Wade’s reference with a confused look on his face. Now realising Wade was awake, he immediately stood up and attacked him, jamming his claws into his chest and hoisting him in the air. “Where the hell are we?”

“I don’t know!” Wade yelled defensively.

You sat there entertained as you let the two grown men throw each other around for a bit when Wade said something that seemed to have struck a nerve.

“Is that what you said when your world went to shit?

Your eyes widened in surprise. If this was the worst Wolverine (according to paradox) you wondered what had happened to him to make him so bad. Logan retaliated by throwing Wade through a concrete wall. He looked pretty proud of himself and you just couldn’t help yourself. You rose from your spot kicking away the sand where you had created a very artistic depiction of their fight. You cracked your knuckles and snuck up behind him reaching up to tap his shoulder. He turned around confused and sighed dissatisfied when he saw you.

“Listen bub. Just leave this between me and red I don’t want to hurt a powerless girl-“

Just as he finished his sentence, you punched him square in the face and sent him flying through the same wall that he’d sent Wade into.

Logan threw his body up in shock for what seemed to be hundredth time today. He was getting sick of these surprises. The injuries you’d caused to his body began to heal as Wade cackled at the man from his spot on the floor.

“Told ya she’s like Wonder Woman.”

Logan growled at Wade but was also in disbelief.

You had just caught him off guard. Yep, that was it.

He charged towards you with his claws ready to attack but you countered. You grabbed his claws drawing blood from your hands and threw him to the ground. He groaned and watched as the cuts you inflicted on yourself began to heal the same way his had done. You stood above him a stern look on your face.

“I’m not doing this with you Logan. Just listen to us.”

He wasn’t giving in. He grabbed your calf and pulled you to the ground, flipping you onto your back caging you in with his muscular arms.

He won.

You groaned in anger as you shoved him off of you sending him flying once again. He fell next to you on his stomach, face first into the dirt. You stood up quick before he could and placed a foot on his back and crouched down so you were closer to his face. This was how he realised the intensity of your strength. He could feel the weight of your foot and he was built of fucking adamantium.

“You gonna stop being a little bitch and listen to me or do I have to toss you around some more?”

Logan growled in a mix of anger and embarrassment. Wade had returned, finally healed, and decided to make a comment. “I’ll listen if it means you’ll toss me around.”

You rolled your eyes at Wades comment and picked up a stone throwing it at his face with your intensified strength which knocked him back onto the floor.

Still not getting an answer from the Wolverine you flipped him onto his back pinning his splayed arms to the ground as you straddled his waist. He writhed underneath you- still trying to prove his strength- but you had him, he couldn’t move.

You won.

You tilted your head at Logan and he angrily answered your question.

“I’ll listen.”

You patted the side of his face condescendingly.

“Good boy.”

You graciously unpinned him and he shoved you off, moving away from you rapidly.

He was humiliated.

You looked so ordinary. No indication of your strength and you were half his size. And here you were, tossing the big bad, made of goddamn metal Wolverine around like a fucking rag doll. He’d never met anyone that could do the things you had done to him. Wade had matched his strength when they had their little fight but you didn’t just match his strength you were exceeding it. He didn’t hold back once. He was using his full ability and it didn’t even effect you. He felt a whirlwind of emotions but one stuck out the most to him.

Lust.

He would be lying if he said this whole situation didn’t turn him on. Which didn’t go unnoticed by Wade

“You kinky son of a bitch you into a bit of masochism?” Wade asked getting dangerously close to Logan’s face.

Logan snapped out of his thoughts (unfortunately) and growled at Wade as a warning, “Shut the fuck up.”

You couldn’t help but smirk as Logan started to walk away from you two. It was kinda flattering to beat up Wolverine and also turn him on within the span of five minutes. Wade looked at you, eyes still somehow expressive through his mask.

“Oh! That was definitely a yes!”

[librababe99]

Moments Between Time: Part One

CW: angst, hurt, dystopian, Mutant!Reader, mental anguish, existential despair, suggestive emotional and physical intimacy

Word Count: 2436

A/N: Hey loves! So I' m back with the first part of this new series featuring DOFP! Logan---Definitely one of my favorite x-men films that I went to see in theaters a few years back. I really hope y'all enjoy it--As always comments and feedback are highly appreciated! - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

(Part Two)

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The world had become a graveyard of memories, littered with the remnants of a civilization that once thrived. The skies, once a brilliant blue, were now a perpetually overcast gray, the sun a distant and pale shadow of its former self. Buildings stood as crumbling sentinels, their facades scorched and broken by years of unrelenting warfare. The air was thick with ash and the scent of burning, a constant reminder of the lives that had been lost and the battles yet to be fought.

The war had waged for years, perhaps decades—time had lost its meaning in the endless cycle of violence and survival. The Sentinels, monstrous machines designed to hunt and exterminate mutants, had decimated the population. Humanity, too, had been nearly eradicated in the crossfire, caught between the relentless advance of the Sentinels and the desperate resistance of the mutants. Those who remained were either in hiding or dead. The world was a barren wasteland, devoid of hope and teetering on the edge of oblivion.

You stood on the precipice of what was once a thriving city, now reduced to ruins. The wind howled through the skeletal remains of skyscrapers, carrying with it the echoes of a world that no longer existed. Your heart was heavy with the weight of all you had seen, all you had lost. But you were still standing, still fighting. You had no other choice.

Your powers had been both a blessing and a curse in this war. The ability to manipulate time was a formidable weapon, allowing you to slow it, speed it up, or even rewind it in brief bursts. But every use took a toll, draining your energy, leaving you weaker with each passing day. It was a power that came with a price—a price you had paid over and over again, watching friends and allies fall only to rewind their deaths, knowing that it would only delay the inevitable.

And yet, despite everything, you had survived. You were one of the last remaining members of the X-Men, a shadow of the team that had once stood as a beacon of hope in a world that feared and hated them. But hope was a luxury none of you could afford anymore. Survival was all that mattered, and even that seemed like a losing battle.

Beside you, Logan Howlett—Wolverine—surveyed the desolate landscape with a grim expression. His once fierce eyes were hardened by the years of combat, yet there was a depth of sorrow in them that matched your own. His presence was a constant, a rock in the storm that raged around you both. You had fought together through countless battles, each one more desperate than the last, and had watched the world crumble piece by piece.

Logan’s wounds healed quickly, his regenerative abilities keeping him alive when others would have perished. But even he was not immune to the emotional toll of this endless war. The loss of friends, of family, of a future worth fighting for—it all weighed heavily on him, carving deep lines into his face, turning his hair to gray.

For years, you and Logan had been comrades in arms, partners on the battlefield. But there was more between you than just the bond forged in blood and fire. There was something unspoken, a connection that ran deeper than either of you dared to acknowledge. It was a thread that had woven itself through the fabric of your shared experiences, pulling you closer even as the world around you fell apart.

The quiet moments between skirmishes had become precious, stolen time where the chaos of the world seemed to fade, if only for a brief while. It was in those moments that you would catch Logan’s gaze, his eyes searching yours as if seeking solace in the only place it could be found. There were times when your hands would brush, a fleeting touch that sent a spark through your entire being, a reminder that you were still alive, still capable of feeling something other than pain and despair.

But there was no room for love in a world like this. No room for the vulnerability that came with it. To love was to risk losing everything, and neither of you could afford that. So, you kept your feelings buried deep, hidden beneath layers of resolve and determination. There were more pressing matters at hand—survival, resistance, the slim chance of victory.

As the days passed and the future grew increasingly bleak, a plan began to take shape among the remaining X-Men. It was a desperate, last-ditch effort to change the course of history, to prevent the events that had led to this catastrophic timeline. The idea was to send someone back in time, to a point before the Sentinels were created, before the war had begun. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance you had left.

The choice of who to send was obvious. Logan was the only one who could survive the journey. His healing factor would protect him from the physical strain, and his mind was strong enough to endure the temporal displacement. But even with his abilities, the mission was fraught with danger. If it failed, if something went wrong, there would be no coming back.

Your role in the plan was just as crucial. Your powers would be used to anchor Logan’s consciousness in the past, to guide him and keep him connected to the present. It was a task that required immense concentration and would drain you of almost all your energy. You knew the risks, knew that there was a very real possibility that you wouldn’t survive the attempt. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was giving Logan a chance to succeed, to change the future, to save the world.

The night before the mission, you found yourself unable to sleep. The weight of what was to come pressed down on you, a heavy burden that you carried alone. You had always been strong, resilient, but the thought of what lay ahead filled you with a sense of dread that you couldn’t shake.

You sat alone in the darkness, the cold air seeping into your bones, your thoughts a tangled mess of fear and determination. The reality of the situation was sinking in—this could be the last night you ever spent in this world. The last night you would see Logan, hear his voice, feel his presence beside you.

The sound of footsteps drew you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Logan approaching. His face was set in a somber expression, the lines of worry etched deep into his features. He said nothing as he sat down beside you, the silence between you heavy with the weight of all that was left unsaid.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. There was nothing that needed to be said, no words that could capture the magnitude of what was about to happen. But the silence wasn’t empty—it was filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building between you for years. The tension that had simmered beneath the surface, always there but never acknowledged, was now impossible to ignore.

Finally, it was Logan who broke the silence. His voice was rough, low, like gravel underfoot. “Tomorrow’s gonna be hell,” he muttered, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first light of dawn was just beginning to break.

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. “Yeah. It is.”

He turned to look at you then, his gaze intense, searching. “You ready for this?”

You met his eyes, seeing the concern there, the fear that he was trying so hard to hide. You managed a small, sad smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Logan’s hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before he rested it on yours. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the cold that surrounded you, a lifeline in the darkness. You looked down at your joined hands, your heart pounding in your chest.

“This could be it,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “If things go wrong… I just… I don’t want you to—”

You shook your head, cutting him off before he could finish. “Don’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Don’t say it. We can’t afford to think like that.”

But even as you said the words, you knew it was too late. The reality of the situation hung between you like a shadow, impossible to ignore. Logan squeezed your hand, the pressure grounding you, pulling you back from the edge of despair.

“You’re strong,” he said, his voice steady, reassuring. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. You’ll get through this. You have to.”

The intensity of his gaze, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered, took your breath away. For a moment, you felt like the world had stopped, that there was nothing but the two of you in that cold, desolate night.

Without thinking, you reached up and cupped his face in your hand, your thumb brushing lightly over the rough stubble on his cheek. “And you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “You have to come back. You have to make it right.”

Logan’s eyes softened, the hardness in them giving way to something deeper, more vulnerable. “I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vowed, his voice fierce, filled with a determination that sent a shiver down your spine. “I swear, I’ll make it right.”

The moment hung between you, heavy and charged, the tension that had been building for years finally coming to a head. It was as if all the barriers you had both put up, all the walls you had built around your hearts, were crumbling in the face of what was to come.

Before you could second-guess yourself, before the fear could take hold, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was fierce, desperate, a collision of pent-up emotions that neither of you could contain any longer. Logan responded immediately, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if he could merge your bodies, your souls, into one.

There was no room for hesitation, no time for doubt. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more intense, as if you were both trying to pour everything you felt into this one moment. It was a kiss born of desperation, of the fear that this might be your last chance to feel something real, something good, before the darkness swallowed you whole.

Logan’s other hand slid to your waist, pulling you into his lap as he kissed you with a fervor that left you breathless. You could feel the raw power in him, the barely-contained rage and pain that he carried with him every day, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to take it all away, to make him feel something other than the constant ache of loss and regret.

The world around you seemed to fade into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other, clinging to this one moment of passion and vulnerability. It was as if time itself had stopped, holding you in a suspended reality where nothing else mattered.

But time, as always, was cruel. The kiss slowed, the intensity gradually ebbing away, leaving behind a bittersweet longing that settled deep in your chest. You pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, your breaths mingling in the cold air.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of all the things you couldn’t bring yourself to say.

He opened his eyes, and the raw emotion you saw there nearly brought you to your knees. There was so much in his gaze—love, fear, desperation, hope. It was almost too much to bear.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” you said, your voice barely audible, “I need you to know… I—”

But before you could finish, Logan captured your lips again, silencing you with a kiss that was somehow even more tender, more meaningful than the last. It was a kiss that spoke of promises unmade, of words left unsaid, of a future that might never come.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still cradling your face, his expression was one of fierce determination. “You don’t have to say it,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I know. I’ve always known.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, nodding as you leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth of his hand on your skin. The dawn was fast approaching, the light slowly creeping over the horizon, casting long shadows over the ruined city.

The reality of what was to come settled over you both like a dark cloud, but in this moment, with Logan’s arms around you, you felt a sense of peace that had eluded you for so long. You knew that this could be the last time you ever saw him, the last time you felt his touch, his kiss. But you also knew that if anyone could change the future, it was Logan.

As the first rays of sunlight pierced the gloom, you pulled back, reluctantly breaking the embrace. Logan’s eyes searched yours, and you could see the same mixture of hope and fear reflected in them.

“It’s time,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart.

Logan nodded, his expression hardening as he prepared himself for what lay ahead. But before he could step away, you reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Promise me,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the words. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

Logan’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the hardness in his expression melted away, replaced by something tender, something achingly vulnerable. He squeezed your hand in return, his grip strong and reassuring.

“I promise,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ll come back. I’ll find you.”

With one last lingering look, Logan turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows as he prepared to embark on the most dangerous mission of his life.

And as you watched him go, your heart heavy with a mixture of fear and hope, you whispered a silent prayer to whatever gods might still be listening, begging them to bring him back to you.

Because in this world of darkness and despair, Logan was your only light, your only hope.

And you weren’t ready to let that go.

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Taglist: @hughverine @itzyahgirllkita1 @nonamevenus

(If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this series moving forward just comment below <3 )

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

HIII I LOVE YOUR SEB X READER FIGHTING OVER THE BLACKLIGHT and wanted to request smth similar to it? Mutant!reader still, ( maybe the same as the other fic) who helps the Expendable(s)/MC much more than sebs when explaining how each monsters works (giving more info than sebs) and sebs getting annoyed by it? especially if mutant!reader sort of roams alongside with then expendable(s) and is seen chatting with them (bc maybe mutant reader misses being human?) until sebs pulls reader away to complain abt it (how reader shldnt be so relaxed in this situation)

Aw thank you! I'm happy you liked that one ^^

.........

"So you keep dying to creatures that are classified as an Angler, but none of them are the Angler itself, and he just...refuses to tell you how to avoid them?"

"Um, yeah..pretty much. The file said they were only discovered after the lockdown, so maybe he doesn't know-"

"Oh, he knows damn well how they behave. He's just lazy and expects you to figure it out on your own. Which one got you last time?"

The expendable abruptly stopped in their tracks, trying to recount their most recent untimely demise, while you--one of Urbanshade's mutant experiments--waited for them to gather their thoughts.

You two were just casually walking down one of the blacksite's long corridors....or rather, they were walking and you were slithering.

The only reason they were still alive and didn't have their gear detonated was all thanks to your own little scrambling machine. It was attached to your belt, being a lot easier to carry compared to that massive thing Sebastian lugged around.

You were lucky to find them during the chaotic lockdown, and now you were able to chat with expendables without worrying about HQ finding you and/or killing them for talking to you.

Even though you hated Urbanshade for turning you into this creature, you couldn't hate the folks who were just trying to earn their freedom. You knew nothing of why they were even here in the first place--and quite frankly you didn't care to know. There's no point to it.

You were once a sociable human being, and this was how you could still pretend you were.

Of course, that proved difficult as many expendables would rather run, use the flash beacon, or hide in the nearest locker whenever you showed your face. But you reassured them you mean no harm and just wanted to talk.

After overhearing a few grumble about Sebastian treating them like idiots due to their recent deaths (especially with Wall Dwellers), you took it upon yourself to give them better advice.

Advice that would actually stick with them.

While the documents mostly explained the monsters' behaviors clearly, information on the Angler's variants was severely lacking. That was understandable and something you were more than happy to elaborate on should they ask.

"Oh, I remember now...it was some big..creepy frog thing. It had a lot of teeth."

"Ah, that's Froger. She's different, alright. And a smart girl at that." You chuckled. "I've been watching her movements for a while. Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure...do I need to pay you data or..?"

"No. I don't need that stuff."

"Oh..okay."

"Anyways, you know how frogs like to hop around? Well, she does something similar. She'll pass you by, and then do another sweep of the room because she knows you're there. Then after awhile she'll hop back to wherever you are to catch you off guard. Does that make sense?"

"That...actually does. I did get caught off guard the third time because I thought she was gone. Um..thank you." They smiled a little bit.

"Of course. All you need to do is make sure she passes you thrice, and you'll get to keep your pretty little head." With a tiny smile, you patted the top of their head for encouragement. "Now I have business to attend to. I can't chat for too long, or else-"

"I think you've chatted with them long enough, [y/n]."

Blinking, you saw Sebastian pop his head out through a nearby vent, frowning at you.

"Ah. Why hello, Sebastian." You smiled innocently, tilting your head.

"We have a erm..business meeting, remember?" His eyes shifted to the expendable, who seemed utterly bewildered at his presence outside the shop. "If you'll excuse us."

"Yes, please excuse us...and don't let my advice go to waste!" You hummed, bidding them farewell before following Sebastian into the vent, making sure it closed behind you.

For a few moments more, they stood there in silence.

Until the lights in the room flickered and made them dash to the nearest possible hiding spot.

And of course...it was Froger.

.........

"That's my job, you know."

"Well you kinda suck at it." Flicking your tail, you climbed onto the stack of crates within Sebastian's shop, smirking up at your fellow fish monster. "If you're tired of meeting them in the same place when they die, at least give them better advice."

He just turned to face you, looking almost offended.

"You think Urbanshade is paying me to spoon-feed their expendables every tiny detail?! Should I start making Powerpoints for every damn thing that crawls their way?!" He spat.

"..all I'm saying is that calling them "morons" and "idiots" isn't going to help them get very far."

"And chatting them up isn't going to help us get very far, either." With a small huff, he slithered over to a desk cluttered with documents and other assets previous expendables have delivered to him, sifting through the piles. "We can't let them reach the crystal. Not yet. We need more time."

"Ugh, how much more time do we possibly need?" Taking a small DNA vial, you examined it closely between your fingers, admiring its blue glow. "I can only be your little scavenger fish for so long. This place is bound to run out of data. I say let 'em take the crystal, and while everyone at Urbanshade is distracted by that-"

"Jeez that sounds like a GREAT plan...FOR GETTING US KILLED!!" He snarled, swiping the glass vial from your hands. "And be careful with this! It could shatter and explode all over my wares! And I'll be making you pay for them!"

Normally, his anger would scare even the toughest expendable, but you weren't fazed in the slightest and just chuckled. "Woah, no need to get your fins in a twist, Sebby. I was only kidding."

"See? That's exactly your problem...you're too relaxed over all of this." He gently set the glass vial down like it was a baby deep sea bunny. "Those prisoners aren't our buddies, you know."

"I'm not trying to make friends with any of them. I'd just like to see them live a bit longer. It's interesting to hear about their experiences. Plus, they're willing to fork over any data they might have on 'em. So I'm completely focused on our mission."

"Still, we're trying to get out of this place before they terminate the Expendable Protocol. And that means getting out of here before anyone reaches the crystal-"

"And we will. I promise they won't get any closer just because I told them how to evade that dumb frog." You huffed, slithering off the crates and grabbing the nearby lantern. "I'll go pay Painter a visit. See what data he's gathered so far. You mind if I borrow this?"

"...why would I care?"

"Huh..impressive."

"What?"

"Oh nothing. I'm just glad we've moved past fighting over blacklights like toys." You grinned cheekily.

Sebastian's eye twitched. "I wish you'd stop reminding me of that.."

"Well you gave me the marks. So it's hard to forget." You chuckled, crawling into the vent and making your way to the heavy containment sector.

'They're probably gonna go chat up some other expendable.' He thought, annoyed as he went back to organizing his wares.

"Heads up."

"Who said tha---OH SHIT!!"

His ear fins perked up at the distant sounds of your shouting, which was quickly followed by a loud static buzz and a red light that he noticed sweeping through the adjacent room.

Seconds after that, your head popped back through the vent, your expression bewildered. "SEBASTIAN WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?!!"

"Oh? I thought you knew everybody here." He snickered. "He's just another acquaintance. Don't worry. You probably won't see him again."

"...I better not. Bye."

"Bye~"

[writing-mlm]

hii saw you also do marvel fics :) a scott summers x male reader would be so awesome i can never find any good mlm stories for him. bonus points if it’s like an opposites attract dynamic where the reader is more irritable and rash whereas scott is more level headed and critical. thank you, no rush!!!

Irritations and Delight

Summary: Your temper is well known amongst the others but they have a trick up their sleeves that works every single time. Pairing: Scott Summers x Male Reader WC: 4.7k a/n: genuinely foaming at the mouth for Scott I forgot how little screen time he gets LMFAOOOO

Scott sighs as he gets called down to the War Room just before midnight. It’s the third time that week he’s been called to stop a fight and considering that it’s only Monday he knows it’s going to be a very long week. Despite the urgency of Jean’s request, he takes his sweet time going down the stairs rather than taking the elevator as he should have and through the halls before he sees the door. It’s closed, so he presses his hand to it, rubbing the sleep from his face while it scans him.

“I’m not taking shit from someone I need to look down at!” He hears you scoff as the doors open. He knows you’re arguing with Logan, because of course you are, it’s more often than not him. “Keep your Canadian ass away from my fucking snacks!” You warn, nostrils flaring. Jean looks at Scott with a pleading look and he just leans against the door frame, debating if this is even worth intervening— spoiler; it’s not. He’ll let you go for a little longer, get most of the steam out of your system. 

“You can make more,” Logan shrugs. “Isn’t that your whole thing? Creating,” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were so broke you gotta steal like an alley rat,” Taking the jab as well as you expected, Logan flares— damn near growls, too— and clenches his fist. You grin, staring at his claws, and tilt your head, threatening him even to try and hit you. But he’s stopped by Scott calling for you. Your last name cutting through the air like a whistle during gym class.

Scott’s voice is half a warning, half a tired plea when he calls you. Regrettably, his presence makes Logan smirk and you scowl before it drops from your face and you glare over at him. “C'mon now,” He beckons with his index and middle finger before turning and walking away. You suck your teeth and drop the topic for now. 

“Run along,” Logan taunts as you walk past him. “Daddy’s calling.” You stop and look at the door before at Logan; it’s not really a split-second decision but you walk back around and punch him in the jaw before leaving. He doesn’t fight back, not when Jean is attending to his ‘wound’ and Scott yells for you. He should be thanking you, really. She hasn’t willingly been that close to him in months. With one last shared look, you head out of the War Room and into the bright hallway. 

“Don’t say it,” You grit, rubbing your knuckles as you walk in stride with him. It doesn’t hurt, you’ve punched harder things, but you’re making sure that you didn’t break anything seeing as your hand is technically still healing from your last mission. 

“Say what?” Scott pauses, standing with his arms crossed. “That you’re being childish or that you shouldn’t hit your teammates?” Sucking your teeth, you drop your hands into your pockets and kick the imaginary rock on the floor. 

“He called you my daddy,” You grumble. “I’m older than you, by the way.” It’s like four months, but that’s still older than him. 

“Really?” He grins, his arms still crossed but now he flexes his biceps. It gets your attention more than his words do and he knows that. Asshole. “I couldn’t tell.” 

“Shut up, Summers.” 

He just tosses an arm over your shoulder and drags you over to the elevator. You bite the corner of your mouth, stopping the smile on your face until you’re alone in the elevator. 

“What even started that?” He asks, his knuckle stroking your cheek. It doesn’t take an empath to know the action alone makes you weak in the knees; metaphorically speaking, of course. The man knows how to make you unfold in seconds, which is why he’s the only one dispatched to handle you. 

“I was making cookies in secret,” You start, pursing your lips. “It’s stupid but I was proud of them and-and they were mine. But Logan’s stupid fucking nose sniffed them out while we were out getting groceries and he ate every single one of them.” He frowns, just a bit. He doesn’t want you to think he’s pitying you but he knows how much it hurts you. 

Baking wasn’t exactly a hobby of yours, truth be told you were a disaster in the kitchen, but he knew well enough that you could make some mean cookies. Everyone knew that and snatched them up whenever you made any, leaving nothing left for you. And yes, your mutation allowed you to recreate those same exact cookies as much as you wanted but you never did. 

“I just wanted something for myself— and you, of course. Just this once. And that bitch starts going on about how I should’ve hidden them better or put a note on them if I didn’t want anyone else eating them. But they were! They were in our room, in my dresser, inside of my tupperware!” Now you’re shouting and Scott takes a step back, his chest rising as you enunciate each pronoun. 

“I’ll speak with him,” He promises and your head whips around to face him. The elevator gets to your stop and you face forward, marching out and towards the staircase. 

“Oh, because then he’ll talk about how my ‘daddy’ came to my rescue again!” You shout while using air quotes. “No— it’s fine. Next time I’ll just make him a batch and load them with laxatives and chocolates, have that dog dying with shit pouring out his ass.” 

“(L/n),” He scolds, following you as you climb the stairs two at a time. “You agreed to stop calling Logan a dog.” He catches you by the elbow, spinning you around so you’re facing him. 

“No, I said I'll stop calling him a mutt.” You correct, waving your finger in front of his face. “It felt like a slur, so I stopped. But technically wolverines aren’t dogs, they’re weasels. So, dog doesn’t work either.” Slow blinking, Scott drops your arm and follows you into your shared room. By that point, you’ve gone quiet and it’s not because it’s after hours and you, as the responsible adult and teacher, would hate to wake the children up. 

He sees a mess, the things in your dresser are tossed about and the tubberware is broken into several pieces. You don’t apologize, you don’t feel a need to, instead you huff and start cleaning while he sits on the edge of your bed. Knowing that you hate it when he helps with your messes, he waits until everything is neatly folded or tossed into the trash can before he pulls you over. 

“Would you like it if I talked to the Professor about getting a toaster oven for our room?” He asks while guiding you to your side of the bed. You shrug as a response, staring at the wall. “Hey,” Grabbing your face with a ghostly grip, he makes you stare at him. “You can’t just shut down, come on.”

“I guess,” You huff, moving his hand from your face. “It’s ridiculous that we’d need to do that, though. It’s a communal space but no one respects it. I’m tired of treating people older than me like toddlers just because I have something they want!” Tenderly, he kisses the top of your head and lays properly next to you. 

“I understand, we can have a conversation with the Professor in the morning. For now, rest,” While he puts his night mask on, you reach over and turn the lamp off before holding him close. He insists on laying this way, with your head tucked into his back or neck and his grip tight on your hands. You like it, too. Scooping his legs on top of your own, you sigh into a yawn and try to fall asleep. 

—

“Hey, pretty boy!” You call as you enter the garage where Scott is working on his motorcycle. Classes had since finished up and with no other work to do, it was officially time to do whatever the fuck you wanted. And what you wanted was to bother your oh-so-loving boyfriend. 

“Yes, hun?” He calls from under that damn bike. Only able to see his legs, you lay your head against the door frame and look around. 

“Would you mind if I sit and watch you?” You ask, checking out an empty spot. Maybe you should get a motorcycle— but then he couldn’t drive you around anymore. But you could ride with him. But you wouldn’t have an excuse to not go places alone anymore. No motorcycle. 

“Course not.” He responds, sliding out from under the bike and beckons you over. Taking long strides over to him, you settle next to him and he explains what he’s doing. Fixing an exhaust pipe and something on the bottom of it had been dragging during the last ride so he was checking on that. You used to offer to fix it, your dad is a mechanic and your powers could fix it in seconds but he said he liked getting his hands dirty. 

You just know he doesn’t like anyone to handle his bike. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence until he finishes, you’d given up watching him tinker because you wanted him to actually do his task and knew you couldn’t stop yourself from pestering. Instead, you grabbed a useless tool in the box and changed it into various objects, eventually changing it back and reaching for an instruction manual that was hidden under wrenches. 

It wasn’t riveting or even particularly useful, an instruction manual for a toolbox wasn’t the best literature. But it passed the time until Scott let out the huff that signaled he was done and would admire his work for ten minutes. 

“Have you eaten?” You ask while he washed his hands in the large basin in the corner of the garage. 

“Not since lunch,” Lunch, if you could call it that, was a single slice of toast with a layer of jam so thin you couldn’t believe he wasted a knife for that. 

“Perfect, let’s go get some dinner.” Dinner with the rest of the school was hectic; it was dinner with a bunch of superpowered teenagers after all. So whenever you can, you opt to eat away from them and luckily tonight is one of those nights. 

Charles had ordered enough pizza to fill a god and you snagged a box before anyone noticed. It was yours and Scott’s favorite, too, so you think the Professor knew your plan from the start. But who knows? You still head outside with the box in hand and head to your secret spot on the property. 

Since the mansion overlooks acres of land there were plenty of secret spots but you like to believe yours was actually a secret. When you first got there you’d create a tree house, back then it was just large enough for you and your items but nowadays you hang with him whenever you can. 

The great weeping willow was the perfect tree to hide the house in, too. The large dangling leaves provided more than enough coverage— even for the spiral staircase you climb to reach the top. 

“How romantic,” Scott teases when you appear with a pizza box, soda, and two cups. You’d forgone getting plates because eating from the box is just as acceptable. You thank him and slide the box onto the table. He stops it from sliding off, watching as you grab a vinyl from the display case and set it on the player. It’s a newer one, one you’d stolen on accident. You swear it was an accident and Scott is inclined to believe that for his peace of mind. 

“Dinner and music,” He meets you halfway and runs his hands along your arms. “You really know how to treat a guy.” He muses. 

“Not just any guy,” Your lips curl into a smile as you stare at him. “My guy.”

“Your guy?” He echos and you nod, your eyes darting to his lips. 

“My favorite guy, my dream man, my boyfriend. My heart— I can continue if you’d like.” 

“Message received.” He shakes his head and presses a slow kiss to your lips. When his lips leave yours, you slowly open your eyes and then nudge his shoulder, telling him it’s time to eat. 

When you spend nearly all day with your significant other, sharing memories and gazes throughout the day, one might think there’s not much to talk about at the end of the day. But you begin to word vomit the second your butt hits the chair. Scott listens and gives his own input whenever he wants and the conversation eventually evolves into very juicy gossip about your students. 

Not very mature, sure. But come on! It’s like your own reality TV show. It would be better if one of you were telepathic but oh well, word of mouth and visual cues are just as fine. 

You think Tamara, a girl who’s technically a senior in high school with the powers to walk through walls is the one who’s been helping the younger kids during their nightmares before the others could get to them. Scott disagrees, he thinks it's Kevin, a kid who can enter people’s dreams.

“But Kevin can’t control whose dream he enters,” You point out, stopping yourself before you tell him about the time Kevin went into your dream where you were inside of the White House trying to get the President— who’d been Bob Marley— to come to your birthday party. 

“He’s getting better,” Scott draws his hand to his hair, slicking it back. “Because he’s been helping the others. You haven’t seen the way the kids look at him?”

“Have you seen how they look at Tamara? She’s like a big sister to them.” Tossing the crust of your slice into the box, you grab another. Honestly, his point does make sense. How else is a kid with dream powers supposed to get better? By entering dreams. “Maybe it’s both of them.” You settle on. 

“What? Kevin deals with the dream and Tamara helps them if they wake up?”

“I mean…” You trail. “Their rooms are right next to each other, it’s not hard to believe.”

“I think we cracked the code,” Scott grins and you nod as pizza cheese slides off of your lip. 

“Man, sign us the fuck up for mystery solving.”

—

Physically imposing wasn’t typically a word people would use to describe you. You don’t have a body type close to Logan or even Scott. You work out just enough, truly you don’t care too much about lifting cars or being able to punch through walls.

It’s useless in your opinion when you could very easily just turn the wall into sand or make the car paper. 

But that doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. 

You’re plenty strong, you work out every morning with Scott. You often use the students as weights just for the hell of it. While you don’t keep track you think your current limit is two seventy-five on each side of the dumbbell. 

So when you punched a protester it caught him off guard. Which wasn’t hard considering he was busy shouting nonsense at your students. But, hey, he was being really annoying. No one around you said he didn’t deserve it, no one gave you a look of shame or disgust. 

But he didn’t hit the ground, time seemed to freeze and you sighed through your nose, fist still clenched as you listened to Charles making his way over. Scott wasn’t far behind, grabbing you by the elbow just before Charles spoke up. 

“Now, was that necessary?” He asks, his stupid holier than-thou voice doing nothing to make you ashamed of hitting the man. 

“When you talk shit about my kids, absolutely,” You tell him. “How about next time you agree to take at-risk children on a field trip, you use your shitty powers to make sure someone isn’t going to hurl cruel words at them.” 

“How’d he even know?” Scott asks, staring at the man’s clearly unhinged jaw. 

“Someone scared Man-man on accident and his face went all… froggy,” You explain, looking at Man-man with an apologetic look. He looks down, rubbing his arm. “And of course, the man saw.” 

“You should’ve come to me.”

“You should’ve known.” You correct him, staring down at him. “Isn’t that your whole thing? Mind reading, and understanding people’s characters? You’re supposed to look out for them and my method is much more effective than walking away and calling for you.” Scott whispers your name, his voice was soft, and begging you to stop arguing. 

You falter, not wanting to ruin the trip anymore, and run your face.

“Can’t you just wipe his memory? Only we saw.”

“And can we go somewhere cooler?” Claire asks, leaning against her boyfriend Todd. Her long blonde hair running down the length of her face before she shifts it behind her ear. “We’ve been to this evolution museum three times. I heard there’s a movie theater down the street.” 

“The movies sounds good,” Ororo agrees, ever the helper for Charles. “I’ve been wanting to see the new one, what’s the name?” She turns to Jean who whispers the name and she nods. 

“I suppose some quiet time in the cinema couldn’t hurt.” Charles reluctantly agrees and the kids cheer. 

“We could totally—“ 

“No.” Scott shoots the idea down and you sigh, crossing your arms while getting the kids to line up. He pinches your side as he gets his kids to line up next to yours and you pinch him back. 

“It would be for like twenty—“

“No,” He drags out, not even looking at you. 

“You don’t even know what I’m asking!” Giving you a look, you chuckle and nod. “I totally was asking for that.” 

—

“It’s nine,” Scott drawls from above you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the headboard. “You’ve slept in plenty today.” You groan and roll over, pulling your cover up to your chin. 

“Suck a dick, Summers.” 

“I’m sure I will, later,” He blinks. “But you’ve missed breakfast and your first class. It’s time to get up.” Grumbling under your breath, you turn and face him. He’s been awake for hours, you knew because he woke you up when he did. Plus, he’s a messy sleeper and you relish the bed to yourself sometimes. He smiles and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, stroking your hairline. 

“It’s Friday, man. Can’t we cancel class for one day?” Your eyes dart between his glasses, finding his eyes in the red. 

“I’m sorry,” He shakes his head. “It’s time to get up.” Relenting, you sit up and drag yourself into the bathroom. He doesn’t stay, he has a class to teach and he knows if he does, you’ll rope him into missing it. 

Thankfully, you only have three classes before you can sit and relax. But things are never that simple inside that damn school, something happened during the period just before lunch. Some telepathic kid messed with the newest kid to join and the kid absolutely destroyed the classroom with his shock waves. He told you it was something about his past and you reassured him it’ll be fine before sending him up to talk with Charles. 

Tragic backstory after tragic backstory, you must’ve thought yourself lucky that your trauma came from the one time you accidentally turned a candle into a stick of dynamite at a historical building during a field trip. 

Not your best moment, you should admit. But the tour guide was being a prick and it’s what you imagined throwing at him. Sorry to the historical building, though, shame it became an arcade like five years later. 

This mutant's anonymous shit wasn’t your speed, sure that’s not what Charles called it (he called it mediation between two students who are having issues), but that’s definitely what it was. Everyone sat in a circle, telling their feelings and instead of some chip to commemorate being a mutant, you’re left to go out on ugly ass spandex and give up your apartment in replace of living amongst traumatized teenagers and more traumatized emotionally stunted adults. 

But hey, you agreed to become a teacher for those same young mutants— you just didn’t expect them to take to you like glue on paper. For fucks sake, you taught them chemistry, far from a friendly subject. You know you hated it when you were their age. And Jean tells you that you’re far from a friendly person, too. Not too sure on how she managed that assessment because there’s a group of teenagers in your office eating and talking. Willingly, during their lunch period. 

There are six of them, one of which is sitting on top of your filing cabinets and eating straight from a cantaloupe. No spoon or anything, just his hands. Never mind the chunks falling on your floor.  

“No, because Todd is totally grinding my gears,” Claire grumbles from the floor. Todd, her boyfriend, definitely wasn’t on your list of best students. “He keeps talking about he’ll be the next leader of the X-men and I’ll be his trophy wife! Trophy wife!” She shouts through a laugh. “He runs fast and I can bend light to my fucking will!” 

“He tried to get with Stacy Ambers,” You hum, stabbing your fork into a piece of chicken. Everything quiets down and they turn to face you, their jaws dropped. “I caught them during class when you went to the bathroom. He ran to give her a note, she giggled and nodded.”

“That sleaze!” Kelly shouts, standing on her knees. “Ugh! And with Sticky-Stacy? As if,” She lowers herself back to the floor and picks up her juice carton. “I say we stick them together in the training room and use them for target practice!”

“Saying stuff like that will get you a week's detention if the Professor hears,” You lazily remind them but you do nothing more to stop that conversation.

“The owner of the school is a telepath,” Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m sure he already knows all the fucked up plans in her noggin’.” 

“Which you shouldn’t be encouraging,” Scott chides from the door. “Come on now, go with the rest of your peers.” The kids groan and pack their things, leaving you and Scott inside the room. He steps inside and shuts the door. 

“I wasn’t encouraging,” You defend, holding your hands up. “I was acting as an outlet to the children, as Charles always drones on and on about.” He smiles and you think, rolls his eyes before he walks over to your desk. 

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it.” 

“What’re gonna do about it, Summers?” You grin, rolling your head to the side as he gets closer. He shrugs and sits on the edge of your desk. Grabbing his thigh, you roll your chair over to him and hang your arms over his legs. “Because it seems like you’re jealous I’m the favorite teacher.” 

“Jealous?” He echos, staring down at you. “Far from it; I’m glad you’re bonding with the children. We know how your temper is.” Frowning, you shove his stomach and lean back in your seat. He tilts his head as though you’ve proved his point and you chuckle, rolling your eyes. 

“Why’d you come anyway? You never visit lil ole me during lunch.” Grabbing your food, he steals a piece and you’re just glad it wasn’t the piece you were eyeing. 

“I do visit,” He rebuts. “I visited you last week. But I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me this Saturday? The Professor wants me to check out a potential mutant fight ring,”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think. “Another mission turned date, I can get down with that. Where is it?” 

“Chicago. Close to the border.” 

“Groovy, I’m in.”  Patting his thigh, you push yourself back to your desk and grab your lesson plan for next week. “Do you think the Professor would be upset if I turned the walls of the classroom into chocolate? For science, of course.”

“Yes, he would. Especially since they’re currently being rebuilt.”

“Aw, man. That was my whole lesson for Monday.” 

“Why don’t you do normal chemistry lessons? Like toothpaste volcanoes or colored fire?” He grabs another piece of your lunch and some of your juice. 

“Firstly; it’s called elephant toothpaste. Secondly, it’s hard keeping them focused in class. Half of the kids already make colored fire!” Taking the juice from him when he’s done, you take a sip. “I mean, I could do normal lessons. But it would bore everyone.”

“How about boring lessons all week but on Friday you do fun stuff like chocolate paperwork or something.” The suggestion is obvious but you take it down all the same, writing that in the corner of a paper to look at when you get back from the mission. 

“Oh, and since classes are canceled because of the incident, we could leave for Chicago now. If you’d like.” 

“Oh man, would I? Let’s go, Summers!” Slapping his shoulder, you run out of the room and head up to pack your bags. 

—

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask while Scott flies the jet. It’s impossibly quiet inside, the unattended chairs and lack of chatter were almost foreign with missions. You’d been walking around, messing with straps, and threatening to turn a chair into water. It didn’t take a genius for Scott to tell you were talking about Logan’s seat. 

“You always are,” He hums and you grin, messing up his hair. He grabs your hand after a second and kisses the back of it before you move to take a seat next to him again. 

Sighing, you kick your feet up on the control panel, careful to not actually press any buttons. “I don’t know your eye color,” You admit, staring at him. Even though you’ve been dating for nearly three years, you’ve yet to see his eyes behind those red frames. You also haven’t seen any childhood photos of him. 

“They’re blue,” He answers with a smile. “I have blue eyes, Alex said they’re blue like the sky. I think they’re blue like Florida oceans.” 

“Blue,” You softly echo, staring at him. “I always thought they were brown.” He laughs and shakes his head. It makes sense, you think. Because of course, he’d have blue eyes, how could you picture him any different? 

“What about yours?” He asks. “It’s hard to tell colors,” You tell him, describing your eyes in the way that you view them. Correlating beautiful things to the shade. “That makes sense. I thought they were gold because of your mutation and that’s what Ororo had told me.”

“Oh, I wish!” You shout. “I’d be so cool, you couldn’t stay away from me if they were.” 

“I can’t stay away from you now,” You chuckle nervously, looking away from him and he just smiles. That asshole just smiles. “I love you, I hope you know that.” He continued just to see your reaction. 

“Yippee,” You respond and immediately cover your face. “Summers, take those glasses off and kill me.” It’s a near beg as you scream into your hands. You, a grown adult, had just uttered the word yippee following a declaration of love from your boyfriend. Oh, how prepubescent. How… emotionally stunted. Oh my god, you’re no better than the other X-men. 

This, this is your trauma. This is what you’ll look back upon and shiver, pushing it deep down in your memories as if it was bad food at a family gathering and the trash was nearly full. 

“I meant,” You shudder. “I love you, too, Summers.”

“Wanna try with my first name?” He asks and you groan. He blinks over at you, his eyebrows clearly raised at your antics. 

“Give them an inch and they’ll ask for a mile!” You joke. “I love you, Scott.” You finally say, looking back at him. He bites his lip as he smiles and you lick yours, nearly forgetting that he’s flying a jet and should not be distracted. Looking away, you see Chicago in the distance and remind yourself that the mission comes first. 

Go, X-Men, Go!