What about Charles dreaming about the reader cheating on him? And him being all clingy about it
Thank you so much for this request, I found it so interesting and funny. I hope you like thisss 😋😋
A driver nightmare | cl16
Summary: when Charles dreams about you and it's not usually something pleasant for the both of you.
Warnings: fluff, slightly possessive Charles and a little bit of angst.
You and Charles have been dating for a couple of years, and although people sometimes say that it is suffocating to date someone for such a long time, for the two of you it is not like that since you always find something new about each other and end up falling in love over and over again. And it's a nice thing because there are quite strong feelings between the two of you.
But lately Charles has been a bit scattered, so to speak, and you have no idea why is that behavior coming...
So, one night Charles lies asleep next to you, your breathing is even and deep.
“Another night, another nightmare, great...” Charles says as he sighs softly.
He stirs in his sleep, his brow furrowed... The dream is vivid and so painful. You are there, his love, his world, his whole life, is with another man... The laughter, intimacy - things that should be reserved only for the two of you, are being shared with someone else. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead.
He jolts awake, heart pounding. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of disturbance. He finds you there sleeping peacefully, with a serene and angelic face; relief washes over him, but the lingering dread from the dream is a heavy weight on his chest.
Lately he's had a couple of nightmares about you with someone else, and no matter how much he tries to get answers about it, it's all in vain since it's just a nightmare, that's just it... The thing is, to him, everything feels so real and vivid that he actually swears you're not by his side at the moment.
He whispers. “Oh no... It's getting worse.”
He lies there, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the nightmare, his mind races over and over. He knows it's irrational because you would never do this to him. But the images are so real that it hurts him a lot.
***
Morning comes, a sliver of light peeking through the curtains. You stir in bed, stretch, and smile softly at him.
“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you smiled at his sleeping form. Your voice is soft and melodic, the sunlight catches your eyes, making them sparkle.
“Morning darling.” he says, his voice is rough with sleep, but he forces a smile for you.
You sigh a little bit. “You seem so tired cha. Another nightmare?” you reached out to stroke his hair.
He nodded. “Just a bit baby, but it's nothing to worry about.”
He pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair, the scent of your shampoo is comforting. For a moment, the fear and anxiety fades away.
“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything, okay?” you say softly at him.
“I know sweetheart, I know.” he sighs. “It's just... It's a little complicated.”
He squeezes your hand, trying to reassure himself as much as you.
***
The days pass and Charles continues to be plagued by nightmares at night time. He becomes increasingly withdrawn, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a shadow of doubt.
“I’m losing my mind.” he whispered softly while grabbing his hair.
So one afternoon, as you two cuddle on the couch, you can notice the change in him.
“Charles, I know something's wrong. You’ve been distant.” You say in a whisper as you stroke his hair. “And I don't know if I've done anything wrong.”
Charles freezes, his heart pounding... You doing something bad? That is impossible for him, but he can't help but feel guilty.
“You doing something bad? Honey, that's impossible! Everything's fine, love... Just a bit stressed with work, that's all.” he says softly.
You looked at him, your eyes filled with concern for him. “You can't lie to me, Charles. I know you better than that, I know something's bothering you.” you say with a soft voice.
***
A couple of days later, the sunlight streams through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the room. The soft clinking of utensils can be heard as you move gracefully around the kitchen, preparing breakfast.
Charles enters, his hair ruffled from sleep, for you he looks so good, and he yawns widely. He stretches, his eyes still half-closed, and then pads over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.
“Good morning, beautiful! What are you making that smells so so good?” he says while kissing your cheek.
You smile, leaning back into his warm embrace. “Morning, sleepyhead. I'm just making pancakes! Nothing serious.” you giggled.
Charles tightens his grip, his chin resting on your shoulder.
“You're the best chérie.”
He nuzzles your neck, his breath tickling your skin. You giggled, turning around to face him.
“Stop it silly, you’re going to make me spill the batter!”
Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“I like watching you cook. You look so... domestic and cute.” he whispered.
You rolled your eyes playfully. ”Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He shrugs. “I guess so silly bean.”
He pulls you into a tight hug, his possessiveness momentarily surfacing.
“You’re mine, you know?”
You laugh softly, your heart melting at his affection. “I know my love, I know.”
Charles kisses your forehead, a tender gesture that speaks volumes.
Later that day, you and Charles are curled up on the couch, a comfortable silence between the two of you.
Suddenly Charles let out a long sigh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”
You looked at him, your expression concerned. “What’s wrong, baby love?” you asked him.
Charles takes a deep breath.
“Well... I've been having these… nightmares... About you.”
Your heart skips a beat. “Nightmares? About me?” you asked again and he nodded.
“Yeah... And it's something stupid, I know. But they’ve been getting worse because I see you with someone else. And it’s... it’s horrible, it feels horrible.” he finally confesses and he looks down, his voice barely a whisper.
“Oh, Charlie...” you reached out to take his hand. “It’s just a dream, baby. It doesn’t mean anything! Look, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, okay?”
Charles looks up, searching your eyes for reassurance.
“I know, I know... But it’s been making me so crazy. I’m so sorry if I’ve been acting weird this couple of weeks.” he whispered and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him.
“Baby... You’re not acting weird, you’re just scared. And that’s okay! I’m here for you, always, okay?” you say while caressing his back.
Charles nods, relief washing over him.
He sighed and smiled at you. “I love you amour.”
“I love you too, more than words can say.”
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never going back again - 02
summary: ghost finds himself at the wrong safe house, injured and unable to call for backup
simon ‘ghost’ riley x innocent fem!reader
warnings: mdni (18+), mentions of eating, nightmares, mention of alcohol, mutual pining
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It was the calmest he'd ever been, lounging around the cottage with you near, he wasn't much for conversation but he enjoyed asking you questions, how long you'd lived there,
"3 years next month, I bought it a while back after moving here on a whim"
What you did all day,
"Garden and read, lots of painting, even more cooking"
It was all so foreign to him, the idea of living one day at a time, not worrying about the outside world or whether or not your life was in danger, he'd realized quickly that this was the first time he felt safe in years, even with the looming threat of enemies outside and the lack of contact to his team. It did occur to him that if he didn't reach out eventually he would be labelled MIA, but to a man who wasn't even legally alive, the prospect of never seeing his team again didn't worry him a bit, what did worry him was the burning smell from the kitchen.
"What are you doing in here?"
"I was trying a new recipe, it's harder than it looks" You rush to turn off the stove, quickly pulling the pan from the surface and using a towel to waft the smoke.
"I thought you were good at cooking"
"No I said I liked cooking, not that I was any good" You huff while reaching to open the small window above the sink, allowing the fumes to migrate through the opening.
He leans his hands against the table "It doesn't look that bad"
"You're a terrible liar, has anyone ever told you that"
"Most say I've got a great poker face" He tilts his head, you respond with an unamused haha,
He stands to his full height, moving towards you "Let me"
"Let you what"
"Cook, I'll make dinner"
"Anything's better than this" You nudge towards the pan of burnt food, straightening your clothes before allowing him the step to the stove. You turn to sit at the table, watching as he moves around the kitchen with ease, grabbing ingredients from various spots while you point him toward the proper cabinets.
"Where'd you learn to cook?"
"Had to figure out a way to feed myself once I left home"
"They don't feed you at work?"
"They do, but it's mostly inedible, more nutrient based than anything"
"Did your mum cook?"
He doesn't respond for a moment, leaving you to realize the words that come from your mouth, your smile fading quickly, "I'm sorry I forgot"
"S'alright, she um, she didn't often but some Sundays she'd make a roast, best meal I ever ate"
He turns to you, his gaze soft as you smile slightly in response,
"Well let's hope her skills weren't wasted on you"
He laughs lightly, a real laugh before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the stove. You watch as he prepares the food for a few minutes, reaching across the counter to add spices,
"So what are you making?"
"I am making" He stops his sentence, turning off the stove and twisting to face you, "French toast"
"French toast?"
"I said I could cook, not that I know a lot of recipes"
You cover your mouth as you laugh, your eyes creasing at the sides as he places a plate in front of you,
"Well, it smells great"
The two of you dig into the food, your gaze focused on the plate as you allow him the privacy to lift his mask up slightly, revealing his mouth, falling into a comfortable silence as you eat, Simon smiles to himself as you make a small hum of approval,
"You can't be serious"
"What'd I do?"
"That's like a cup of syrup"
"So?"
"You're teeth are going to rot from your head"
"What if they already have"
You scrunch your face at the thought, "At least it'd explain the mask"
"You don't have to turn away you know"
You make a small huh? in response,
"When I pull on my mask, I don't mind you seeing parts of my face"
"I just assumed"
"I know, but you don't have to turn away"
"Okay" Your voice is smaller, intrigue and confusion mixed into it as you nod. “How’s your cut”
“Healing, thanks to you, still tender”
“Can I” You turn your eyes to his, standing from the table to kneel by his side, his breath catches in his throat as you lower your body, your fingers inches from his stomach.
He nods lightly in permission, lifting his shirt for you and settling it on his lower stomach, your fingers pressing gently on the sides of his wound as you inspect it. His eyes stare at your face, holding back a smile as you bite your lip in concentration, you stand, turning behind to grab some new bandages from the cabinet behind you before returning to your position in front of him.
You brace your fingers against his skin, tugging at his bandage,
“Sorry”
“Doesn’t hurt”
You tilt your head to him and he’s watching you, his eyes locked on your face, your cheeks flush slightly under his stare, turning your attention towards his wound as you dress it, pressing the bandage into his skin. You let your fingers linger for a moment, feeling his stomach rise and fall with each breath before you slowly pull away, standing up and nodding.
“That should do”
“Thank you”
“It’s nothing”
“Thank you” He repeats in a lower, softer voice as he lets his shirt fall into place.
"Any idea when your ear thing will work again?"
"You trying to kick me out?"
"No" You widen your eyes at your quick response, "Just, want to make sure there isn't someone at home missing you"
"There isn't"
You mouth a small oh before turning your gaze toward the window, "It's late, you should rest"
"Right"
There's tension between the two of you, neither wants to leave the others company yet at the same time, neither of you will do anything about it.
"I'll see you in the morning" You smile, passing through the kitchen towards your room and closing the door, leaving Simon alone.
He wakes in a blind panic, the sky outside still dark as he blinks his eyes, turning his head towards your door, he can hear you shouting, rustling around and without thinking he enters the room. Your limbs are twisted between the sheets, jolting around as you mumble, he takes a step back as you sit up, your chest heavy.
You clutch your chest at the sight of him, lurking in the doorframe,
"You scared me"
"You were having a nightmare"
"Yeah, they happen sometimes"
It's then that you notice he's not wearing his mask, the room is dark but there's enough light for you to make out the curve of his nose,
He scratches the back of his head, "Okay" turning to leave,
"Simon"
He lazily turns his gaze back to you, responding with a small hmm.
"Will you stay, it's just"
He cuts you off, "Easier to sleep with someone beside you"
"Please"
"Of course"
You watch as he crosses the room, looming beside your bed as you pull the sheets to cover you, feeling the mattress dip under his weight as he settles in. He lays awkwardly on his back, his arms crossed over his stomach, you watch his chest rise and fall, without thinking you slide your palm against it, your fingers light on the fabric of his shirt as you move closer, pressing your chest against his side and resting your head on his shoulder. He snakes an arm around you, letting you nestle against him as his hand settles gently on your arm, his touch feather-light as he tries to keep a consistent heartbeat.
You must've fallen asleep shortly after, waking to the sun streaming into the room, your limbs tangled between his, both of you had turned in your sleep, his chest now pressed against your back as his arms held snugly against your waist. You can feel his steady breath fan across your neck, his face close enough that the tip of his nose grazes your skin, he's so warm, the sheets on the bed long forgotten in your sleep and the heat coming from him is more than enough.
You reach a hand to his arm, tracing over the lines of his tattoo and you feel him tighten his grip, his stable breaths now ragged as he wakes up. It takes him a moment to realize the position he's in, his brain doing little to comprehend the situation.
"Do you have something in your pocket?"
He pulls from you instantly, jolting upwards and turning around as you giggle,
"M'sorry" His voice is groggy, his accent thicker than usual.
"It's fine"
He keeps his gaze away from you, anxiously stretching his limbs before you realize,
"I'm gonna shower, I'll turn away so I don't"
"Thank you"
You can only see the back of his head, his blonde hair that's a mess, the outline of his head as he nods, shaking your thoughts as you move out of the room.
You stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror, hoping that he didn't get a chance to see you that morning either, your hair was everywhere, the skin under your eyes dark from your usual lack of sleep as you strip your pyjamas, turning on the faucet.
You stand in the warm water, letting it wash over you, hoping it would calm your rampant thoughts as you hear Simon moving around behind the door.
You step out of the shower, wrapping your body in a towel and smoothing your hair back before opening the door, the steam wafting from the small room into the house.
“Where’s the kettle?”
“Top left cabinet”
You stand in the doorway, your hands squeezing the water from your hair as you look at him,
“Thanks”
He turns quickly to you and his body freezes, his eyes glued to your practically naked form as you stand, the beads of water dripping from your warm skin.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yep, just making tea”
“Okay, bags are in the lower cupboard”
He nods awkwardly, furrowing your brows at him before turning around, he lets out a heavy breath as you leave, leaning back against the counter as he drops his head back, staring at the ceiling.
“Shit” He mumbles to himself, adjusting his pants feeling them grow tighter as his mind runs circles around the sight of you, replaying the way your fingers traced over his skin, and scent of your hair as he rested his head against yours. He was awake most of the night, listening to you breath, smiling lightly as you mumble about nothing, you were soft, he’d never had soft before always jagged and dark.
His mind snaps back as you call from the other room,
“Are you any good at fixing things?”
“Depends, what needs fixing”
“The shutters outside, they’re falling apart”
“I could give them a look”
You appear in the entry, smiling at him, now clothed with your hair pulled back, he just watches you in awe, the fact that you could look so perfect no matter the circumstances, you could be caked in mud and still make his heart flutter.
The two of you sit for tea and chat about nothing, asking more questions that he dodges while you openly answer everything he had wondering about.
“I think you’re his new favourite”
Simon makes a small huh before you nudge your head toward his feet, the small cat nestling itself against his calf.
“Strange”
“He’s not strange”
“Not him just, I’ve never had a cat do this”
“Well get used to it”
He smiles under his mask, he could get used to this, spending his days with you, cooking and drinking tea, just enjoying each others company around the house.
“The shutters”
You set your cup down, nodding at him, “There’s some tools in the shed outside, not sure what’s left but maybe they’d help”
“I’ll get right on it then”
It was sweltering outside, the sun beaming down without a cloud in the sky as Simon tries to navigate his way around fixing the shutters. You see him through the window, his arms flexing as he unscrews some things and nails in others, you had no idea what he was doing but he looked good.
I’m hot, he must be hot you fan yourself with your hand, pulling the hair from your sweat glistened neck, eyes darting around the kitchen before an idea clicks in your head.
“Beer”
It’s the only word you can manage to think of as your eyes fall on him, somewhere in the last few minutes he’d stripped himself of his shirt, tucking the loose material into the belt of his pants as his sweat dripped down his skin.
“Cheers, love one”
Your throat dries, nodding as you extend a n arm toward him, the cold glass of the drink transferring to his grip as he tips it towards you in thanks, turning around to lift his mask slightly before taking a sip. Your eyes trailing down his muscled form, roaming over every ridge of his stomach before moving back up.
“Must be hot with the mask”
“Get used to it”
You take a few gulps of your own drink, running the glass across your skin in an attempt to cool yourself. He turns his gaze back to you, watching as you let the beverage run across your skin, leaving a trail of drips behind, he can’t tell if you’re teasing him or this is just how you act naturally.
“How’s it looking”
“Great”
“So you’re almost done”
“Huh?” His eyes pull back to yours,
“Are you almost done, it’s getting unbearable out here”
“Yeah, nearly there”
“Great, I’ll be inside”
The rest of the evening was calm, the two of you doing your best to stay cool in the small cottage as the sun set over the horizon, deciding on cooking something that didn’t involve the use of heat, settling on sandwiches for dinner.
“Mind if I shower, I’m covered in sweat”
“Yea of course” Your mind floods with the sight of his bare form, thankful that the hot air masked the flush of your cheeks, “Towels are in the washroom”
He nods, standing from the table to move toward the shower, closing the door behind him before turning it on. You blow out a long breath, bracing your hands against the table before turning your head at the sound of him wincing,
“You alright?” You call
“Yeah, just sore”
“Well hurry up, I’ll check your stitches”
You sit impatiently as he showers, nervously tidying the kitchen as you wait, your chest fluttering as you hear the shower turn off.
“Figured it’s easier if I just put my shirt on later”
He must be doing this on purpose, once again your eyes roam his form, his sweat replaced by dripping water as his freshly cleaned skin draws your attention,
“Sure, easier”
He sits on the couch, leaning back and positioning his arm against the top to allow you a better view to his stitches, to your surprise they’re doing well, no inflammation or bleeding, they look good.
“S’good, should be able to take them out soon”
“Great”
“Might leave a scar”
“Adds to the collection”
You pass your gaze over the skin of his chest, littered with scars, some small and others long, some old and some new.
“I’m fine”
“I know you are”
“It only hurts a little, when it happens”
“And someone did this to you”
“A few people”
“How many is a few?” You stare at him with rounded eyes,
“Nothing you need to worry about”
You soften your gaze, standing from the couch,
“I guess we should sleep now” His eyes follow your movements, he shifts in his spot trying to get comfortable,
“Simon, would you- nevermind”
“What do you need?”
“I felt bad waking you last night and I was thinking maybe, if we slept in the same bed I wouldn’t have any, you know”
“Yeah, I’d like that- you not having nightmares” He fumbles over his last words, trying to keep himself together at the prospect of once again having you close.
“Okay” You walk nervously toward your room, the simple action now feeling foreign as he trails behind you, “I’ll keep the lights off if you want”
He nods, closing the door behind him as you get into the bed, shuffling around a little before finding comfort in your position, you turn to your side but keep your eyes on him as he reaches to tug his mask off, your mind trying to piece together what he might look like behind the sharp lines of his shadowed face.
He sets himself beside you, moving an apprehensive arm under your pillow, making sure you were okay with it. You push back against him, your body perfectly slotting in front of his as his other arm settles around your waist, you hold it with your fingers, your thumb rubbing against the skin as you let out a small hum of satisfaction.
You’re asleep in no time, the warmth of the air combined with the comfort of Simon behind you lulling you into a dream while he stays up, his arms tucked against you, it was the most comfortable he’d been in years, maybe ever and be didn’t dare move, his body freezing everytime you moved a leg against him or squeezed his forearm lightly, they were like subconscious reminders that you wanted him there and it warmed his heart, melting against you as he tucked his nose against the nape of your neck, your hair brushing against his skin.
He wakes to an empty bed and a weight on his chest, opening his heavy eyes to the sight of Goliath,
“Good morning kitty”
He runs a hand across his back, smiling lightly as he purrs against his touch before he jumps off, startled by the sounds from the house. Simon quickly realizes that he’s not wearing a mask, it’s light out, and you’re not there, a small panic setting into his nerves as he stands.
He tugs on his mask and a shirt before leaving the room, pressing his side against the frame as he watches you move around the kitchen, steeping some tea while you clean up.
“Mornin”
You turn around with a wide smile, “Sleep well?” You ask, leaning against the counter,
“Best in years” He’s being honest, something about you was so comfortable, safe, he wanted to stay forever, if this was what life had in store for him then he’d accept it with open arms.
“Good, cause I think I found that wire you needed”
His heart sinks in an instant, “You did?”
“I think so, was tucked back in the drawer”
“Oh, I’ll see if it’s the right one then”
You smile, turning back to the kettle that had begun whistling as Simon panics, it was too soon, he wanted more time, he needed to figure out a way to stay longer, something good that would keep him here at least a few more days.
“The bathrooms got mold in it” It was the best he could come up with, he hated lying to you.
“Huh?” You turn with your brows furrowed,
“The bathroom, noticed it last night, I can’t fix it if you’d like”
“Are you sure, I didn’t see any”
“Easy to miss sometimes, it’s just near the drain, shouldn’t take more than a day to clean up”
“Yeah sure, just let me know what you need”
He nods, fighting back a smile of success behind his mask, excusing himself from your direct line of sight before internally celebrating, before stopping to think to himself,
Now I’ve gotta figure out how to retile a shower.
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Hi! :)
I’m craving some Logan Howlett angsty fluff and I really like your writing style… Do you think you could maybe do a fic where either Logan and reader are in the heat of the moment and his claws come out and he scratches her. Or where Logan has a nightmare and the same thing happens. Either way the reader ends up comforting him.
Thank you! 🩷 :)
Hi!! So sorry for getting to this so late 🥹 loved the idea btw :) ended up doing a bit of a mix of both? If that makes sense.
/
"Out with it."
Your voice rings out clearly among the X-Men, the throng of battle no longer around you all. It was a more exhausting battle than you would've thought, but nothing irks you more than knowing that Logan has been apparently thinking of you as someone to play babysitter to. He hadn't trusted you to make your final blow to the enemy, and instead scooped you away to safety before lashing out with his own claws.
Logan clearly has something to say to you, and you want to hear it. You're not going to let him escape again- the way he always does, nonchalantly, refusing to acknowledge how he treats you.
Charles stiffens next to you in the helicarrier. Watching the tension, feeling the palpable heart-wrenching sensation between you and Logan. He doesn't know how you got to this point.
"Listen. Just because you didn't have it doesn't mean you're not a good X-Man-" Logan starts dismissively.
"But I did! I did have it!" You shout back at him, and then inhale carefully. "Nobody told you to rescue me, Logan. If I was about to die, then I was. I wanted that to be on my own terms."
"Don't talk like you're a fucking martyr when you've never had the privilege, kid." Logan's unnecessarily harsh tone has you flinching. "Do you know how many people I've seen die, for no good reason? Do you really want a bunch of Pentagon psychos to be your last memory?"
"Shut up." You shift in your seat, feeling small. "We don't get to choose when we die. Not like you."
Logan becomes visibly angered with that, the little taunt you've made towards his immortality. "That doesn't mean you have to go seek it out, dumbass."
"Oh really? Don't tell me you're getting soft, Logan." You glare at him, and Charles and Jean and Scott look at each other uncertainly. "Just because your life is so long doesn't mean the rest of us have forgotten what it means to be alive."
There's an unspoken, sudden charge in the air, now that you've mentioned what everyone else has the good sense to shut up about- Logan having lived so long and not caring about the consequences of his actions. Logan's eyes narrow until you feel sure that you've pushed him too far this time- he looks more animal than human, more Wolverine than ever- and you feel yourself inching forward, letting the anger of not being understood push you to fighting him- and Charles suddenly raises his hand in protest.
"Please, you two. I'm not sure what has transpired today, but I know you are better than choosing to have a physical altercation on a helicarrier flight." His calm, soothing tone makes you feel a little disappointed in yourself, and you settle back in your seat, refusing to meet his or Jean's glances of concern.
/
All you really wanted was an apology. A "Sorry, I won't do that again." Or even an explanation for why Logan keeps tabs on you all the time, never letting you be a real part of the X-Men, always safely on the sidelines. Were you just too weak?
Should you even be here?
You feel guilty for what you said to him. It's not a bad thing, you know, that Logan doesn't want you to get hurt- it's just that you want to do your job. You're not a kid.
It almost, almost justifies how you treated him, but even you know that was too far. You can't act as if you know Logan's life story- not even Charles or Jean would claim to do that, and they've searched his mind for memories several times.
Like it or not, the man was mysterious. He kept to himself on a lot of things, citing past hurt as his reason why- and you should've respected that.
"Maybe I am weak." You mutter to yourself, wondering why you can't restrain your emotions around Logan.
You're practicing shooting small, psionic blasts towards the target in your room- it's a great way to pass the time when you can't sleep- when you hear a groan, a shudder, an angry, deep growl-
It sounds like Logan. His room is right above yours, and the sounds are definitely coming from there- you hear him yell, and before you can stop yourself, you're bounding up the stairs to the third floor of the X-Mansion, bursting through his room's door with a ready hand, in case you need to fight.
/
Logan watches as you berate him in his dream.
Actually, it's not quite you- it's some venomous, evil, witch wearing your face. You giggle at him- you call him old- you don't take him seriously.
With every taunt, you fire another bright purple blast at him- and for once, his body doesn't heal instantaneously. He is getting old, getting hurt, watching as blood pools out of him. It's agonizingly painful.
He's going to die this time, without making it right with you- he's afraid that you're right about him, that he's a washed up sad old man who can't ever let people in.
"We don't need you anymore, Logan..." The not-you whispers softly, smiling a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes, and Logan can't help but believe it.
His self preservation instincts kick in, and he launches forward, snarling, claws out with a sharp snikt sound. He feels that even though he'll regret your death, he'll miss you immensely, it's just one more tally mark to several others.
/
"Logan. Logan!"
You're leaning over Logan's sweaty, clammy body in his bed. You watch as his hands fist in the sheets, and he tosses and turns in agony- you breathe in hesitation, in fear that he's not going to be okay- he grunts suddenly, and you're reminded of how Rogue tells you about his nightmares. They're frequent.
How out of touch could you have been today?
You gently-yet-firmly grab Logan's arm, shaking, and his arms move forward in a self-defense mechanism that seems practiced, as if he's been attacked in his sleep before, and before you can move away, there's a sharp snikt sound, a quick wave of claws, and a searing pain in your side.
It all happens before you can even blink. You fall off to the side, on the floor, writhing in pain. Logan's claws just nicked your side, it's essentially a scratch- but the pain is so much worse than you're expecting, and you fall to the floor again as you try to get up.
You breathe in harshly, holding back a sob, as you feel wet blood pooling through the side of your night dress.
"Jesus Christ." Logan pounces off the bed, waking to blood all over his claws, and he's leaning over your body, as you blink up at him hesitantly. He immediately panics, lifting you up and resting you on his squatted thighs. "Kid! Hey, kid, don't close your eyes-"
"..." You're just barely hanging on, but you listen.
And Logan feels that same sense of shame he felt when he attacked Rogue, when Jean "died", every single time he had accidentally unsheathed his claws towards someone who didn't deserve it.
Doubly so, considering it's like his terrible nightmare has come to life. But you absolutely didn't do anything wrong- he can't believe he was so angry with you.
He calls for help, in a slightly broken tone, and no one seems to be coming.
"Just a scratch." You try, but Logan shakes his head.
"No, no, no." Logan spits out. "How could I- I never meant to-"
"I'm sorry, Logan." You cough, and Logan feels awful that you're apologizing while bleeding out due to his actions. "I shouldn't have said what I said. You're not some unreliable old man who doesn't care..."
You flinch at a sudden, sharp pain, and Logan motions for you to stop talking, but you keep going.
"If anything, you're the opposite. You're there for me. And I'm sorry that I got so... so angry at you for that." You mutter to yourself, not aware of how Logan hangs onto your words. "You're protecting me from making mistakes, and I'm grateful."
"No, kid. You had a point before." Logan interjects, but you shake your head.
"Did I? Or was I being a brat?" You grimace at yourself.
"You did have a point. I was being selfish," Logan shakes his head and then swallows that urge to push you away. "I don't always know how to leave people well enough alone. Sometimes I'm too much."
He hesitates, and then continues on. "Like, I treat you as if you're a nuisance, right? But I always... I always want you next to me. And I know I should just sort my shit out like an adult. But I'm scared."
"Scared?"
"Of what happens. What always happens." Logan sighs in defeat. "I fall in love, and they die. I find my people, and they leave me because I'm such a jackass. There's too much surrounding me that just... ruins everything."
"No, no. I won't leave." You tighten your hand around Logan's, and he, despite wanting to say that you're wounded because of him, believes you. He's so grateful to hear you say it- he had no idea that's what was weighing on him so badly.
He loves you, he knows he does. Logan has never been the best with feelings, but for once, he's glad he was honest.
The first thing Scott sees when he finally makes his way to Logan's room, from all the way across the X-Mansion, is Logan whispering "I'm sorry," and... he thinks (he's not 100% sure), "I love you," to your very forlorn, softly curved-around-him body.
It's a very tender moment, and Scott feels he should leave.
Then Logan presses a firm, shaky kiss on your forehead, and then your lips, and you, with your limited reserve of energy, kiss him back, and then Scott interjects with:
"Hey!...?"
He seems taken aback as you both look at him. "I heard screaming? What is this, some sort of weird cult sacrificial scenario?"
"Logan... had a... nightmare..." You wince, and Scott sees the red on your night gown. "I need... medical attention."
"On it." Scott glances at Logan for permission, and he's currently trying to push all these mushy feelings back into his chest where they belong, and he wants to be there to help you in the clinic, but he's flustered with everything that's happened and he can only hand you to Scott without looking at him.
Scott smirks to himself as he runs you to the clinic of the X-Mansion.
"You and Logan, huh? I knew there was something in that fight today." Scott remarks as you cling to him.
"It's taken an embarrassingly long time for me to figure it out, but yeah." You blush. "Has everyone else...?"
"Jean's been running a bet for the last year." Scott laughs. "She says you both are two sides of the same coin."
You can't help but agree.
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