#reaver x logan

[auduux]

Me playing Fable 3: I'm not the hero I'm a pie dough roller, please stop degrading me when I mess up :( Me Playing Fable 2: I'm not the hero I'm a woodcutter, please give me money :( Me Playing Fable: *Charges full speed into bandit camp that has my sister in it* Me Playing Fable Journeys: FUCKING HORSE WITH THIS GOD DAMN CART

[vertigoartgore]

Best 80's duo : Brown-Ochre Wolverine (his best suit) and Mohawk Storm (her best look) by Clayton Henry (Incredible Hercules).

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

Fuck it, posting it here too!

If anyone wants an incredibly NSFW Donald Pierce ship prompt generator… WELL. Proud to announce I avoided my job for two hours making just that.

[aragaki]

"Reaver is a distasteful creature... but do not underestimate his uses." (x)

[strawberrysunsets]

The Empty World (Ch. 9)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant discovers what happened to Laura at Transigen's labs, and has a run-in with the Reaver Commander.

Warnings: Swearing, injuries, mention of cannon death, mention of cannon torture, mention of cannon suicide, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: six months later, another chapter! Hurrah!

Chapter 9: Revelation

Strips of motion-activated fluorescent lighting flickered on one after another as the man before you strode through the cold, stark basement, glancing back for you to follow. 

It had been a few days since your admittedly ill-advised first aid soiree with Pierce, and your pager had notified you this morning that you were due to be fitted for gear for your upcoming assignment. While you’d been hiding in your rooms since, hoping to avoid what was sure to be an awkward encounter the next time you saw Pierce, mission outfitting had sounded non-optional. So here you were, hoping against hope that you wouldn't run into the Reaver Commander in Transigen's basement gear storage unit. 

The Recon Manager arrived at a side door, and swiped his pass to open it. Inside, racks of Kevlar and carbon fibre swished on either side of you, and you brushed a hand along the garments as you passed. 

Going into Pierce’s rooms had been fun, in a perverse sort of way. Like watching a crime documentary. It was a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the life of a sociopath. And, yes, he was a sociopath with soft hair and a smooth southern accent – but he was only attractive in the way that any lethal weapon was. Like a blade honed to an edge, or a corrosive substance just whispering at you to touch it, his presence beckoned towards the heady rush of danger. 

A masochist’s dream, you sighed internally. But at least you knew your own weaknesses. And something you’d gleaned from Pierce the other night, whether or not mashing your face to his had been a mistake (which was pretty inarguable), was that there were different facets to him. There was an off-duty version of him, for example, who seemed a hell of a lot more open to chatting about things that verged on the personal than the business-hours Reaver Commander did. 

And that was something that might be useful, seeing as you were still in the dark about almost everything that went on at Transigen. Like why were they so invested in - and 'responsible for' - the mutant kids. Or what the hell kind of information they were so desperate to get back from Zenith Labs. Or how the fuck they’d made evil-buzzcut-logan, X-24.

So yes, you were toying with the idea of fucking Donald Pierce. If it got you any information, it didn’t sound like the worst possible way to pass your time at Transigen. If that failed, you could always go play in the radiation lab.

“Don’t touch anything,” the Recon Manager snapped, glancing back at you as he pulled open a storage locker. You raised your hands from the garment rack in surrender, but continued to stare around the room, casually itemizing what you could see for future reference. It might be handy to know what kinds of gear were down here, in case you ever had to make a short-notice departure from Transigen. Not that you wanted to do that, seeing as the fate of Laura and the others depended on your contract with Ansley. But still, it felt nice to know a few of their secrets. 

When the Manager had collected an assortment of garments and pieces of equipment, he handed them to you with a cold expression, crossing his arms as he waited for you to pull on a Kevlar vest to check its size.  He wasn’t a Reaver, judging by his lack of military apparel and macho attitude, but he was clearly anti-mutant. A Purifier? A follower of the Church of Human Potential? Who knew. It barely mattered, since there were too many varieties of hatred out there to count. And Logan had always said that they were all the same, in the end.

“These aren’t yours,” the Recon Manager said gruffly, when you nodded in assent at the size of the vest. “They’re equipment on loan from the facility. What comes back damaged comes out of your pay. If you get paid, that is.”

With that, he strode towards the door, and stood waiting for you to exit the room before he shut it behind you. 

Just another day at the office, you sighed internally. And I’m sure this isn’t even the most toxic workplace out there.

Then again, you were considering starting a workplace situationship with your sadistic mercenary supervisor, so there was still plenty of room for things to go downhill from here.

~~~

As you lay in bed that night, you stared at the screen of the phone in your hands, reading the message you’d received that morning over and over again. 

We are safe. Across the border. 

The unknown number from which it had come was undoubtedly Laura, using the burner phone you’d given her. And they were safe. You didn’t know what that meant – if they’d found a true hiding place, or even other mutants, or had just escaped the tails Transigen had on them – but your heart ached with relief. For now, they were safe. And they would continue to be, as long as your deal with Transigen remained. 

You flipped away from the messages app, and scrolled through the phone’s home screen, trying to get used to its controls. It was the phone Laura had given you, previously belonging to someone named Gabriela. Who that was, and what her story was, you had no idea - but she assumedly had no use for it, anymore. Maybe she'd been Laura’s family, or maybe just some unlucky bystander who’d helped the mutant kids and gotten themselves in the Reaver’s crosshairs, but she was clearly gone, just like every other person who'd ever stood between Transigen and their goals. 

Your finger brushed the camera app in the phone's corner and it opened involuntarily, causing the ‘recent videos’ icon to catch your eye. Because there was a video there. You sat up in interest and tapped on it, and shaky footage immediately grew to fill the phone's screen. 

“My name is Gabriela Lopes,” a woman said, sitting back in a chair in a warmly lit room. “I am a nurse, and for ten years I have worked at Transigen research in Mexico City.” The footage flashed, changing to a video of the exterior of Transigen’s gates.

Your eyes widened, and you sat up further, gripping the phone tightly.  

The next clip was of Gabriela in a storage closet somewhere inside the lab, breathing hard and obviously filming in secret.

“Transigen is owned by an American company,” she continued. “What I am about to show you is illegal in the US, and Canada.”

The camera panned around to the hallway, and you watched in growing horror as a line of children – a few of whom you recognized from North Dakota – filed past. 

“They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study,” Gabriela continued breathlessly. “But that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here, and never left. They have never seen the sun, or the ocean. Rain, or snow, or any of god’s creatures. They have no birth certificates, no names besides the ones we have given them.” 

Then Laura appeared on the screen in your hands, asleep in a narrow bed, and you made an inarticulate sound of horror as you covered your mouth. 

You’d heard Laura imply that she and her friends had been at Transigen's lab together, but you’d thought that it was because they’d been kidnapped and brought there. That Transigen had wanted to study them, because they were the first mutants born in 25 years. Not that they were from the lab. 

“They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls,” Gabriela's voice continued, careless of your mounting horror as the video panned over a few bloody hospital beds. “Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas; special seeds in bottles.”  

Then Pierce appeared on screen, and you inhaled sharply, watching as he dismantled the domestic scene of one of the kids’ birthdays. The video continued, flashing past scenes of the children being injected with large syringes full of fluid, and then a boy using his powers wildly, attacking the personnel around him. And then Laura was back – only this time on a bloody surgery bed, with half a dozen tubes sticking from her arms. A team of doctors worked on her, and familiar metallic claws protruded from her knuckles. 

You choked out sob, and tried to steady the phone in your shaking hand. 

Laura, slashing her own forearm with the Adamantium blades.

Men running up a flight of stairs, in time to see a young boy throw himself from the roof.

A computer screen open to a file titled ‘X-24’, followed by a series of disembodied limbs, floating in blue tanks. 

Then, men - Reavers - were grabbing the children, and pulling them out of their rooms. Pierce appeared, zapping a child with a metal rod before dragging their unconscious body into a lab room. 

“We are going to save as many children as we can," Gabriela continued, voice choked with emotion. "I read about a place up North. A place for mutants. They call it Eden.” 

Then the video changed, and the kids were running down the halls, accompanied by Gabriela and a few of the other nurses. Escaping. 

“If you’re watching this,” Gabriela said, now addressing the camera from what looked to be a motel room, “it means that I am dead.” Her dark, soulful eyes filled with tears, matching the tears now streaming down your own cheeks. “I am not sure if any other children survived. We were separated.” 

You were breathing hard, and you lowered the phone shakily to your bed as the recording neared its end. 

“Please,” Gabriela’s voice finished. The voice of a dead woman. “Take her to safety.”

Then the video shut off, returning you to the phone's black camera screen, and leaving your room in darkness. 

Your chest rose and fell erratically as if you’d just sprinted a mile, and it felt like there was a vice gripping your stomach, making it hard to breathe. You rose from the bed and walked desperately to the window, then back to your bed, pacing.

“Fuck.” The images from the video flashed through your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” 

You crossed to your door and threw it open, not knowing where your feet were taking you – only that you needed air. This building felt different, now that you’d seen what had gone on here. The pain. The fucking torture, and all the other things you could barely comprehend. Your bare feet slapped the cold floor - you'd not bothered with shoes in your rush - and you took the stairs at the end of the hall two at a time, ignoring the strain on your still-healing shoulder and legs. 

You burst out onto the lab's roof as your vision blurred with tears, and gasped for breath. The night was warm outside, and the sounds of the city - dogs barking, distant music playing, and far-off sirens - rushed in around you, replacing the eerie silence of the compound.The sharp gravel of the rooftop bit into your bare feet, but you barely felt it. You put a hand to your stomach, fighting off a wave of nausea as you leaned against the cement wall to your left.  

You’d known Transigen were evil. But – that? That was fucking insane. 

You leaned your head back against the wall and took a few steadying breaths, trying to process it all.

Far below you, a car door slammed, and loud laughter echoed through the lab's concrete yard. You walked slowly to the edge of the roof and looked down, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you spotted a group of men exiting a dark truck stationed in front of Transigen’s main entrance. A blond head swung from the truck’s cab, and your stomach tightened as you recognized Pierce's tall form. He handed off a black case to another man who carried it inside, and turned to grab something else from the truck. 

The image of him dragging an unconscious child across the floor of one of the labs flashed before your eyes, and before you knew what you were doing, you’d stepped off the edge of the roof, curving your wings in sharply for a quick descent. The rush of air pulled at your sore shoulder, but you ignored it, landing soundlessly on the pavement before the vehicle. Your chest heaved as you stared at the men encircling the truck. Then men who’d tortured Laura. Who’d tried to put the mutant kids to death as soon as they no longer served a purpose to the lab. 

Pierce was turned away from you, but his head cocked slightly to the side when your bare feet landed on the pavement, as if he’d heard some minute noise behind him. That was the only warning you had before he’d pulled his gun from its holster and swung it around to aim it at your head, almost quicker than you could blink. 

Then his eyes found your face, and wings, and a grin spread across his face. 

“Well hey there, sweetheart!” He said, returning his gun to its holster and leaning back against the SUV. He wore a sleeveless black shirt above his fatigues, suited to the warm night, and it showed off his muscle-corded arms and the skull tattoo on his neck. The men nearby turned to see what was going on, and quickly caught sight of you standing in the darkness down the walkway. Some stared at you coldly, while others jostled each other, chuckling at unheard jokes.

“Finally come to join your pals?” Pierce asked, a glint in his eye. “Get a little team bonding in?” 

But you weren’t in the mood for banter, tonight.

“Transigen made the mutant kids?” You spat, staring at him as your skin prickled with hatred. “This fucking place made them, locked them up, and tortured them, until you decided to kill them?” 

The men behind Pierce quieted, and some lab worker who’d been on his way in through the automatic doors paused to glance your way, eyes wide. 

Pierce showed no signs of surprise at your outburst, but his eyes grew cold as he tilted his head slowly to one side, examining you. He took in your messy hair, bare feet, and the dark shorts and t-shirt you slept in, before his gaze rose back to your face. “Who you been talking to?” He asked, deceptively casual.

You choked out a harsh laugh. “As if I’d fucking tell you.” 

He raised a brow, and snorted incredulously. “For the sake of your little friends, baby, I’d suggest you do,” he drawled. “Otherwise–” he opened a hand helplessly, “who can say what’ll happen to ‘em.” His grin faded, and his eyes glinted with predatory delight beneath a veil of mock regret. “As you know, we really got no issue killing what needs to die.” 

Your skin prickled as you held his gaze. Because just like that, you were reminded of the violence simmering beneath the surface of this place. And how easily they could take everything away from you, while you remained a prisoner here in all but name. You ground your jaw, wishing that you’d restrained yourself from hopping down here and confronting Pierce with what you’d learned so quickly, because now, of course, he was suspicious about how you you’d figured it out. 

“Laura mentioned being at a lab, but I didn’t put the pieces together till now,” you replied, crossing your arms before you and glancing away as you fabricated an excuse. You couldn't let Pierce find out about Gabriela’s phone, or they’d find the messages between you and Laura. And then you’d lose the only mode of contact you had with her and the others.   “I thought she’d just been kidnapped and brought to the lab,” you continued, staring rigidly away at the fence surrounding Transigen. “But if she had Logan’s DNA, then it must’ve meant that someone engineered her. And tested the Adamantium on her. And if you did that to her…” you finished, motioning with a hand to express that you’d extrapolated the rest. 

Pierce scrutinized you for a moment, then his mouth curved in a slight smile. “Hm,” he grunted. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not, but he leaned back against the SUV, and waved at the Reavers who’d gathered to watch the little scene play out, motioning for them to continue on their way. Some chuckled as they turned away, shooting you cold smiles before walking off towards the parking lot or turning to grab things from the truck’s trunk. 

“Well, great powers of deduction, darlin'," Pierce said, raising something to his lips – a vape – and taking a pull. “But you always knew what you were signing up for. Ain’t no use getting cold feet now.” 

Your breathing had gradually slowed, but rage and disgust were still warring with disbelief inside you. But below that, yes; there was also a grim lack of surprise. Of course you knew what Alkali-Transigen was capable of. They’d been hunting mutants to either kill or experiment on for the past 25 years – and if they’d found a way to make mutants of their own, of course they’d be lab rats. But you just couldn’t reconcile that idea with Laura and her friends. 

Laura, lying on the surgery table, amidst all that blood. 

“Sure, Pierce,” you replied sardonically, your nausea slowly giving way to fatigue. “Of fucking course I shouldn’t be surprised that you like killing kids. I’ve truly never hoped hell exists quite this much,” you added, pitching your voice to reach the receding Reavers. “Cause you fucking monsters will have reserved seating.” 

One of them turned to shoot you a smile, waggling his fingers mockingly as he disappeared around the corner, and Pierce sighed, pushing up from where he leaned against the SUV. 

“C’mon now, honey,” he said, walking towards you. “Ain’t no such thing as monsters. Just people willing to get things done, and people who ain’t.” 

You stared at him in disgust as he approached, while the Reavers’ truck pulled away behind him, leaving the sidewalk outside the lab’s main entrance empty.

“That’s a great line of bullshit you got going there,” you replied tiredly. “Write a fucking book.”

He came to a halt beside where you stood, and gazed skyward, taking another pull from his vape. “I know you don’t get it, sweetheart,” he replied. “You’re soft. Thing is, if we hadn’t done those experiments, someone else would have. And then they’d be getting the big bucks when all of this pays off.” He glanced down at you, unfazed. “See? It’s all just choices.” And as always, his smooth drawl was like warm water on your skin, working to soothe you into believing that he was right. That this was what the world was, and there was no way around it. “You either choose to win,” he finished, “or you’re alright with losin’.”

You rolled his words over in your head, and snorted derisively. But one phrase stuck in your mind, catching your attention through your fatigue. When all of this pays off. So there was a master plan behind the experimentation. Some kind of goal Transigen had, that they knew would pay off big time. 

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you replied, too tired to come up with a better insult. It was simply the truth. The revelations of the night had left you drained, and your rage and horror were quickly fizzling into numb disgust. 

“Mm,” Pierce hummed in agreement, nonplussed. “Tellin’ me that ain’t what you're into?” He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Cause the other night, it seemed to me like –” 

“Shut–” you said, turning sharply as you cut him off, “–the fuck up. I was dizzy and fucking injured.” And you were currently in no mood to discuss the other night. You may have decided this afternoon that fucking Pierce for info was a good idea, but that was before seeing taser a fucking child. Though on the one hand, you now wanted to know Transigen’s dirt even more badly. Cause there was clearly a lot of it. 

Pierce chuckled at your evasion. “Guess that means I’ll have to kick things off this time,” he shrugged, sighing. Before you'd registered his intent, he was moving towards you, forcing you back against the compound’s cement wall. You glanced up at him in shock, but he only smirked as he snaked an arm around your waist. Then his lips were pressing hotly against yours. 

What the fuck, you thought, hands rising to press against his chest, uncertain of whether to push him off. But all thought fled from your mind as he kissed you hard, hungrily, and when you gasped in surprise, you felt him smile against you. And you were breathing in his scent – fucking vape smoke, and sweat, and cologne – and it was disgusting, and intoxicating. 

You couldn’t decide if you wanted this, but he pressed you back into the wall, forcing your hands out from between the two of you. You steadied yourself against the wall with one hand, and when you wrapped the other around his waist, he pulled you against him, wrapping his cold cybernetic hand around the back of your neck.  Stick to the plan? You thought frantically. Seduce him and see what he lets slip? Or go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person?

Pierce’s hot weight against you made it hard to concentrate on any thoughts, though, and he grew bolder, his human hand sliding under your shirt and up your back, sending shivers racing through you. Finally, you leaned your head back against the wall as his hand slid down to grasp your hip, and gave in to the sensations. 

Ah, fuck it. 

Pierce felt the tension leave you, and bent his head to trail his tongue up your exposed neck, exhaling in satisfaction. You shivered at the tingling sensation of his breath on your neck, and pulled him closer, winding your fingers through his hair. Then he took your chin in his cold metal hand, and forced your mouth back to his. His tongue parted your lips, and quested deeper.   

Dizziness washed over you, and you inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath. His breath hot against your cheek, and smelled of beer and minty vape smoke. “Mm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gaze down at you. “Now this is better, ain’t it?” 

You met his gaze, breathing hard. “Better than trying to hold a conversation with you,” you shot back with mock sweetness. Pierce grinned, and returned his metal hand to the back of your neck, grip tightening. Then his mouth was back on yours, stealing the breath from you. 

Admittedly, it had been a while since you’d been with anyone, but this felt fucking intense in a way you weren’t used to. Probably the constant threat of imprisonment and death, you reasoned. One hell of a kink. 

Your skin buzzed in the warm night air, and all focus was lost to the inebriating press of his body against yours. His hips pressed into yours, and he slid a knee upward, parting your legs. You inhaled sharply, and he moved his hands down to the backs of your thighs, preparing to hoist your legs up around him. 

But then the doors to the lab whooshed open a few yards to your left, and someone made a startled noise. Whoever they were immediately hurried away towards the parking lot, accompanied by the blip of a pager. But their reaction pulled you back to reality. 

And it turned out that while you wanted to be a no-fucks-to-give secret agent who slept with the enemy and stole their secrets in the process, fucking a murderer less than an hour after watching him torture children, and learning that the company he – and now you – worked for had created and experimented on them, felt a bit too icky. 

Alright, you sighed internally, so it's gonna to be a 'go back to my room and process what the fuck I found out today like a sane person' kind of night. Bummer. But the murderer in question would undoubtedly still be here tomorrow, and more than willing to continue carrying out your plan. 

“Alright cowboy,” you said, pushing up from the wall and forcing your way to the side, extricating yourself from his grasp. “That’s enough for tonight.” 

Pierce scoffed, turning his shoulder to lean against the wall as he watched you go. “Really? You ain’t sticking around?” He called, then snorted in laughter. “I don’t know what the fuck kind of game you’re playin’, baby."

You flipped him off as you walked away, disappearing past the sliding doors and back into the cold air of the lab.  But yeah, you thought, your exhaustion returning in a wave as the hot adrenaline began fading from your limbs. That makes two of us. 

Taglist:

@humongousgalaxycoffee @drowningnikki @mischiefmanaged71 @lostcause514 @capvengrs @forever-nerd @pancakesandlolliepops @kingredking @gremlinfuck @marvel-at-my-obsession @padawansubscription @rebeccaofrivia @toobsock

[wolvertooth]

Apparently it will happen before Logan is captured by the reavers back in the 90's, something about him leaving the X-Men to do a mysterious mission. And Sabre will be involved somehow

CLAREMONT???? baby u gotta save us.

goddddd shut UPPPPPPPP we've seen them fight a billion TIMESSSSSS the revelations better be that theyre in gay faggy love with eachother this shit is so mfing boring

[practically-an-x-man]

I just finished my Star Wars fic and need help choosing which idea to start writing next!

Longer descriptions will be below the poll!

When he runs into an enchanting woman on the shore of the river, it seems like he's run into the chance of a lifetime. And the seahorse tattooed on his wrist says she might really be the one... but she's a siren, destined to chew him up and spit him out. And sirens cannot love. Can they? It's said to be an unbreakable curse, but legends often lie. (VERY LONG)

2. Call this an origin story. Years before the events of Deadpool - before he was Ajax at all - he seemed to have everything lined up for him. He met Atlanta Santiago in a bar, fell in love, and the rest is history... until he's diagnosed with early-onset Huntington's and has no choice but to chance the mutant warehouse in the hopes of a cure. How does a villain become a villain... and is reformation ever possible for a man like him? (LONG)

3. Of course the mission went wrong. The Son is dead, the case is gone, and the White Death is just a few stops away. What else is new? Citron joined the team two years back, a competent hire that (God knows why) decided to stick around. He tolerates her, sure, about as much as he tolerates anyone he works with. But then she takes a bullet for him. And that... brings things to light. (SHORTER)

4. The Reavers track down a hobbled mutant two steps outside nowhere. Pierce expects it'll be easy. After all, she's injured, weak, covered in blood and tethered to Earth in a way that she never was before. But he recognizes her. Years ago, they'd been inseparable. He can't bring himself to kill her, after everything they've shared in the past. And so he takes a risk, and he takes her home. (MID-LENGTH)

5. After signing onto a new project, he finds a young woman held captive in the back of the lab. They claim she's an oracle, but that's not quite right: she simply peers into memories, brings them to light. All but her own, that is. There's something insidious going on here, and it's a mystery they both need to uncover. (SHORTER)

6. A so-called seer predicts a subway bombing just moments before it occurs, and it's believed she has inside information. The only way for her to escape a lifetime of prison, or worse, is to somehow prove that her visions are genuine - but she can't control her power, and her visions are often close to incomprehensible. She needs help. Legal help, superhero help, anything she can get. (MID-LENGTH)

[docgold13]

365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

Supporting Character Supplemental - Caliban

The Mutant known only as Caliban  possesses the ability to psionically sense the presence of other Mutants within a 25-mile radius of himself.  Once Caliban is able to detect the ‘scent’ of another Mutant he can track them over vast distances.  Like many Mutants, Caliban X-gene additionally led to physiological differences.  His skin is a chalk white color with gaunt features and large, protruding yellow eyes.  

Unable to ‘pass’ as human, Caliban was forced to live on the run, steering clear of a public that largely feared and hated him.  In his young adulthood he was happened upon the fellow Mutant, Callisto.  Callisto recruited Caliban to her cause, utilizing his tracking abilities to locate other Mutants whom she ultimately organized into the underground community known as the Morlocks.

These Morlocks made a home for themselves in the vast network of sewers and subway tracks below the isle of Manhattan.  And Caliban finally found the sense of family and belonging that had so eluded him.  The Morlock became refuge for all those Mutants who had been rejected by society due to their appearance or the nature of their powers.  And for this these Morlock came to resent the surface dwellers, the humans and those Mutants who were able to ‘pass’ as human.  

With his tracking abilities, Caliban was one of the few Morlocks who ventured to the surface world so to seek out any Mutant who may be in need of the sanctuary the Morlocks offered.  

While Caliban found acceptance among The Morlocks, he still longed for many of the things in life denied him.  In specific he wished for a beautiful partner who would love him and he could care for.  During an encounter with members of the X-Men, young Kitty Pryde showed kindness toward him and Caliban misinterpreted this as something deeper.  Later, when the Morlocks battled the X-Men, Caliban abducted Kitty.  Kitty had been sickened by the Morlock known as Plague and Caliban kept her in his personal quarters trying to nurse her back to health.  

After Storm defeated Callisto in combat and became the de facto leader of The Morlocks, Caliban was forced to free Kitty.  In the end Caliban decided that Kitty’s happiness and wellbeing were more important than abating his loneliness.  

Following the Mutant Massacre event wherein a majority of The Morlocks were slaughtered by Mister Sinister’s Marauders, Caliban ended up a member of X-Factor, using his Mutant tracking abilities to help the team seek out Mutants who were being endangered.  

Caliban was despondent over the loss of so many of his friends and his inability to do anything about it.  When he saw the way in which the Mutant Apocalypse had transformed Angel into the powerful Archangel, Caliban approached Apocalypse asking to be similarly empowered; hoping that it would enable him to better protect his loved ones in the future.      

Apocalypse accepted Caliban’s request and transformed the Mutant into his ‘Hellhound.’  Caliban’s physique was greatly enhanced in strength and size, with sharpened claws and teeth.  Although now stronger, the transformation also left him more savage, primal and easily manipulated into doing Apocalypse’s evil bidding.  

Following Apocalypse’s eventual defeat, Caliban became a member of Cable’s X-Force.  He fought well at Cable’s side yet ended up perishing in battle against The Reavers, sacrificing himself to save his teammate, Warpath.  

Caliban was later resurrected on the Mutant Island of Krakoa, once more resembling his former self.  

The character has appeared in two of the Fox Films X-Men movies, portrayed by actor Tómas Lemarquis in X-Men: Apocalypse and by actor Stephan Merchant in Logan.  Caliban first appeared in the pages of The Uncanny X-Men Vol. 1 #148 (1981).  

[mlmxreader]

The New Guy | Donald Pierce x trans!m!reader

@logan-strong asked: Hello. I can't remember if I've sent an ask before so if I have please feel free to ignore it.

But I had this idea for a donald pierce x trans!male reader who is a new part of the reaver gang. Donald takes a shine to them but nobody knows they're trans. The reader is standoffish and cold. They're also a certified badass. I was thinking one day Donald for some reason sees them shirtless and sees their top surgery scars.

summary: you're new to the Reavers, but Donald trusts you not to fuck everything up when he brings you along with him. It's just a shame that being all alone together is the perfect excuse to forget about work and the job that you're tasked with - maybe even a little too perfect.

tws: use of the word Daddy, swearing, smoking, top surgery scars

You were new to the Reavers, having joined up mostly because the money was good and you needed it to help with your transition; as a trans man, it was expensive to get the things that really, truly, made you feel like yourself, the things that really and honestly made you feel like the man you were. Sure, it was hard work and you often went back home exhausted both mentally and physically, and you often wished you had turned down the job, but then you thought of your boss, the leader of the Reavers, and you realised you had more than one reason to stay. Donald. He didn't treat you like the others, he seemed to prefer you and was even a little bit softer with you; you knew he didn't know you were trans, but you did like the fact that he wasn't so cruel and cold towards you.

You drummed your fingers on the wooden breakfast bar, resting your cheek on your hand as your elbow dug into the wood and you sighed, watching Donald; he needed you around for this one, he knew that. No one could take down an idiot with two swords and a mouth that could talk for Britain like you could. Donald trusted you, and as he skulked around the kitchen, he shot you a glare.

"If you're gonna do nothing all night, maybe you should just go home."

You raised a brow, stretching a little as you dared to let out a quiet yawn. Fuck, it was getting late and you doubted the mercenary you were after would be home any time soon. Slowly, you folded your arms on the wood and sank down enough to put your chin on your wrist. "Or not. Someone has to be here in case you fuck up again."

He scoffed, doing his best not to smile as he helped himself to the cupboards and the fridge, most of them were almost entirely empty, but he managed to find a packet of cigarettes and a box of crackers; he chucked the former your way and kept the crackers for himself as he leaned against the counter and tore the box open.

"Relax, baby," he hummed, daring to grin a little but moving over slightly so that the light didn't catch the black metal of his fingers and glare directly at you. "We'll be fine."

You grumbled, not wanting the way he called you baby to fucking claw at your insides, and lit up a cigarette. Fuck, he just had to be hot, didn't he? Of all the goddamn people in the world, the one who sent shivers down your spine and made you grin like a fool, was the one who was as cruel as he was charming. "Do you have to call me baby?"

"Why, do you like it?" He beamed, putting the crackers on the counter and daring to close in on you, his hands either side of you as he leaned over slightly, tilting his head to the side and looking you up and down. "Hm? Do ya? Or would you prefer it if you got the chance to call me Daddy?"

You clenched your jaw, shaking your head a little as you took a long drag from your cigarette, hoping that he didn't see the way your hands shook and how your eyes were a little wide as you swallowed thickly. "Shut it."

"C'mon," he rounded the breakfast bar, putting his metal hand on the back of your chair so that he could spin it round enough for him to grip your chin between his forefinger and thumb with his other hand, a sick grin on his lips. "Y'know I'm a fan of your work, (y/n)... you can tell me the truth."

You rolled your eyes at the remark, blowing smoke directly in his face as you did your best not to grab his shirt and pull him closer. "Go to Hell, Donald."

"Oh, this puppy's got a bark," Donald laughed softly, shaking his head and pulling down your bottom lip with his thumb.

You pulled from his grasp, growling softly as you turned yourself back around, leaning on the breakfast bar again as you took a drag from your cigarette, finishing it and flicking it over the bar. Sure, Donald was incredibly attractive, and you did like him a lot, but you didn't want things to get messy between you two; you were new to the Reavers, you didn't want anyone to think that you only got the job because of some sort of attraction between you and Donald - even if you had the credentials to prove otherwise.

He wasn't about to give up, though, turning you around again and standing between your legs, his hands on your thighs as he licked his lips and dared to drop his gaze down to your mouth for a second too long. "Do you bite, too?"

Unable to stop yourself, you put your hands on his shoulders for a second, but when you noticed where his eyes were, you let one hand drift to the back of his neck, the other buried in the hair at the back of his head. Donald leaned in a little, ghosting his lips over yours before you whimpered softly and tugged at his hair, a pleading look in your eyes that he couldn't help but to fucking grin at; he couldn't hold back, tugging you close enough so that he could finally claim you. His kiss was rough, and harsh, more teeth and tongue and harsh breaths than anything else, but he made you moan as you took your hand from his neck and started to tug at your shirt; still, Donald beat you to it, using his metal hand to rip your shirt so that he didn't have to break the kiss, making you laugh softly until he was forced to pull away.

Catching his breath, Donald looked at the scars on your chest, and he hummed. "Shit."

"What?" You hissed. "You suddenly think I'm fucking ugly because I have top surgery scars?"

"No," he growled. "Why the fuck would I think that?"

His chest was heaving, breath heavy as he dared to use his metal hand to trace the scars, making you shiver with how cold it was, but you couldn't help but to smile; even if you really, really didn't want to.

"So, you can smile," Donald teased, splaying his fingers out as he licked his lips slowly, admiring your body as he nodded slowly. "What else can you do, baby?"

"Fuck you," you groaned, returning your hand to the back of his neck as you bit down at your bottom lip.

He all but laughed, pressing into you a little more as he dared to let a soft growl escape the back of his throat. "You'll have to wait for that, y'know."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[xynchronicity]

6. which one of your muses have you been playing the longest? 11. is there another muse you’ve been thinking of adding or writing for? who? 18. would you ship any of your muses together? who? 19. for each muse, is there a character you wish had a blog so you could interact with them?

⊱asks for muns with a multimuse or more than one muse⊰ || Accepting

6. which one of your muses have you been playing the longest?

In terms of actually writing; Gabi/Reaps. In terms of having had for the longest time; Varren.

11. is there another muse you’ve been thinking of adding or writing for? who?

There are actually multiple! I've been character-studying a few muses...I just do that sometimes. However, of the ones I've done so to recently...I would love to add Emet-Selch/Hades from FFXIV. I would also love to add some of my past muses to my roster again...like my RE muses (Leon, Jake, Piers & Wesker) or my Fable muses (Logan & Reaver), or my Hellsing muse of Alucard.

18. would you ship any of your muses together? who?

Yes. Zyran and Cazimir are soulbound together, so they eventually end up together. I do have a muse I ship Vakas with...but considering what they are and how they are...it wouldn't really work...but it made me happy thinking about it. That muse isn't established here both past or present...and likely won't ever in the future.

19. for each muse, is there a character you wish had a blog so you could interact with them?

I wish there were more X-Men muses for my Sinister to interact with...but considering my muses for him comes and goes...it's likely best they don't crop up lol. I do want more Marvel muses because I miss writing my muses from that fandom. I do want a Moira to write with but their relationship with most of my muses would be pre-established...and I don't wanna just dump all that on someone, y'know? Especially with all that is for Reaps specifically.

[themutantages]

Wolverine and the X-Men returns to the Mojoverse in "Hunting Grounds," an episode named after Mojo's reality TV show in which the Reavers hunt down mutants for sport.

It's like the Hunger Games, or Battle Royale, except Mojo did it first, thank you very much.

Kurt and Wanda get abducted by Spiral and forced to participate in the deadly game for Mojo's amusement, and Kurt doesn't want to play along. Besides, Kurt has to go back to his boyfriend Logan in the end.

Listen to the episode here!

[scienceninjaturtle]

WOLVERINE: DEEP CUT #1 (OF 4)

CHRIS CLAREMONT (W) • EDGAR SALAZAR (A)

Cover by PHILIP TAN

STORMBREAKERS VARIANT COVER BY C.F. Villa

VARIANT COVER BY DAVID YARDIN

VARIANT COVER BY Declan Shalvey • VARIANT COVER BY Phil Jimenez

OUT OF THE OUTBACK ON A LIFE-AND-DEATH MISSION!

• At last – LOGAN’s secret adventure revealed! Featuring a sinister revelation and claw-to-claw confrontations with SABRETOOTH, this is a must-have WOLVERINE story for new and long-standing fans alike that simply cannot be missed!

• Back in UNCANNY X-MEN #246, Logan set off from the Australian outback, leaving behind what was left of the X-MEN, for a personal mission. Now, after decades of mystery, Chris Claremont reveals just what Wolverine got up to before his classic battle with the REAVERS!

• The next Chris Claremont-penned mutant saga begins, with the untold story of Wolverine’s most personal mission!

32 PGS./Parental Advisory …$3.99

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #113: UXM issues 230-231

Finally, we get to slow down and see Ororo rejoicing in her powers as she flies over Australia. Down below, Maddie is regaining her own agency in a nice parallel as she explores the Reavers' sophisticated computers. She's getting the hang of it and is proud to finally have a way to contribute to the X-Men, although tragically it comes much to late to heal the X-Men-related rift between her and Scott. Using the computers, she guides the X-Men through a sparring session, which goes very well. The team has finally learned to trust each other, and with Ororo back, they finally have a good leader (no offense Logan, but that is not your strong suit). One X-Man didn't show up though- Longshot's psychometry powers are drawing him to the Reavers' vault of stolen money and treasure. Some of the stolen objects have absorbed the psychic energy of their own violent history and have manifested as lonely spirits, which overwhelm Longshot and render him comatose. While he sleeps off the mental overload, Ororo cleans their base of operations, which is under a ghost town, and Anna brings a picnic basket of food to Gateway. It's a nice beat for her; other than maybe Logan, she's the loneliest X-Man, and unlike him, she's not content to wallow in loneliness, so it makes sense that she'd reach out. Longshot wakes up and tells everyone how much residual tragedy the Reavers left in their wake, and they decide to fix as much as they can by returning all of the treasure. After Longshot and Betsy have read and sorted every piece of loot, Gateway sends the X-Men all around the world returning the items in secret. Ororo's errands bring her to New York, where she sees the New Mutants miserable in a snowstorm mourning their mentors who abandoned them. Ororo gives their spirits a little boost by clearing up the weather enough for them to keep caroling. When the deliveries are finally done, the X-Men realize that, by coincidence or fate, they delivered all that stuff on Christmas Eve. As everyone relaxes and enjoys the good feeling, Anna takes some cake and a wooden recorder to Gateway as a Christmas present. He still doesn't say anything, but he motions for her to sit with him and plays her a song. This was my favorite issue in a while, and one of the sweetest ones. It was cool to see Longshot center stage in a dramatic role, and he was probably the one who got the most catharsis out of helping lost spirits. And the whole team got a reminder that no matter how dark their world has become, they don't have to stay edgy; they can spread joy just as well as justice. And Anna and Gateway is such a sweet friendship. This is the kind of one-off story Claremont was writing at his peek, and even though he's gotten a little too excited about plots and X-mythology lately, he can still write some really lovely character moments and a totally sappy Christmas story.

We open with a short scene of Illyana, dressed in fancy clothes and in a trance, being prepared to be eaten by a mysterious villain. Elsewhere and else when, Peter is letting off some steam by smashing Australian rocks. He's still unable to revert to human form, and he doesn't realize just how hot his steel skin gets in the sun until he picks up his sketchbook and it catches fire. He starts sobbing, until Ororo comes to cool him down literally and emotionally. He tells her how worried about his sister he's been, and how he can't concentrate enough to control his strength. Ororo doesn't think it's a good idea for him to break their cover with a visit, but the choice is taken out of her hands when Gateway offers Peter a portal. It turns out he sensed Illyana casting a necromancy spell from Limbo, trying to bring Peter to life, so he sends Peter there. He finds her battling S'ym for control of Limbo. Between the T/O virus from Magus and the army of rebel demons and enslaved Right members Illyana sent him, S'ym is approaching Illyana in power, and seeks to dethrone her. Peter attacks him, impervious to both his T/O and magic powers, but Illyana calls him back; this isn't why she brought him here. Earlier today, she was reading some Russian literature when some of the characters appeared in real life and kidnapped her to bring her before Baba Yaga, the Russian witch that eats kids. Illyana escaped, but Baba Yaga has cut off the mansion from magic, so she needed Peter to go save her team. He does so, beating up evil witch minions and destroying things left and right. To reach the kids, he has to use all his will to return to human form and squeeze through a gap, before reverting back to destroy Baba Yaga, whose weakness is metal. Illyana cures her friends of the precooking spells on them, and Peter compliments her on a good plan well executed. She says she doesn't deserve that, because she's evil and she only did this because she wanted to, and he tells her that's all good people ever do. She thanks him and releases him as Gateway takes him back. She thinks about resurrecting him again, but thinks about what he said and decides not to, knowing such a spell could corrupt her into Darkchilde forever. She goes back to the mansion, and S'ym monologues evilly about how Baba Yaga was one of his minions, sent to either kill or corrupt Illyana. It didn't work, but he'll only need to succeed once to take over Limbo. I liked this issue. It made me realize something; Ororo, in her attempt to become the leader and hero mutantkind needs, has placed herself above human emotion. She still loves and cares as deeply as ever, but it's a little aloof and detached, like a guardian angel rather than a mother. And of course, Logan has always separated himself from his emotions. But Peter refuses to feel any less deeply and humanly, despite being cut off from his human form. If the X-Men followed his lead- if they didn't cut themselves off from the New Mutants and X-Factor- Inferno would have been prevented. But of course, they don't know what's coming, and trying to live outside of the world has made them all the more blind to it.

[justwriteryan]

MARVEL X GEARS OF WAR.

CHAPTER FIVE

On the other side of town, a squad of soldiers are returning fire on their advancing enemies. One man lobs a grenade into the Locust ranks. It detonates with a FOOM! Some Locust bodies hit the floor, others scatter. A sergeant surveys the bottom of the street.

SERGEANT: Okay, we’ve slowed ‘em down for now! Get moving

Groups of civilians rush out from inside buildings and under debris. Like a herd of frightened animals, they all head towards a set of stairs leading to an underground subway platform.

SERGEANT: Everyone get underground! Get to the subway!

SOLDIER: Incoming!

All eyes swing skyward. A small object hurtles through the air toward them. Lightning sears the sky behind it, a bolt strikes it. It collides with the side of a nearby building, ricochets off it, bounces off another, and crashes into the road a few feet from where the soldiers hold the line.

SERGEANT: What the hell…?

Grumbling, dirty, bruised and burnt, Wolverine rises from the smashed concrete. The soldiers watch, amazed.

WOLVERINE: What’re you lookin’ at?

He shakes his thick, black hair, letting glass rubble and soot fall to the ground. He spots the civilians fleeing down the steps.

WOLVERINE: What’s all this?

SERGEANT: That’s classified.

Wolverine walks over to the sergeant. Though the military man towers over the mutant, the smaller man looks him square in the eyes.

WOLVERINE: Listen, bub. I don’t know where you got your orders from, but     mine come from Steve Rogers. I answer to him, so you answer to me. Now, spill!

The sergeant remains tight lipped. A man behind pipes up.

CURRAN: We’re on evacuation detail, sir.

SERGEANT: Curran!

CURRAN: C’mon, Sarge, he’s an Avenger! We’re here to defend civilians, sir. Guide them outta the city, search and rescue that sorta thing.

WOLVERINE: Ask me, those people would feel a lot safer if you were down those tunnels with them, instead of watchin’ their backs up here.

SERGEANT: Well even if your opinion mattered, short round, who the hells gonna watch out backs up here?

SNIKT! Logan pops his claws. At that moment, the cries of the Locust horde begin anew. They regroup and prepare to advance at the bottom of the street.

WOLVERINE: Get outta here!

Some of the men run to the tunnels. Others are unsure.

SERGEANT: Are you crazy? You’re just one man!!!

CURRAN: Sarge, relax! Haven’t you heard? He’s the best there is at what he does!

Reluctantly, the other soldiers follow their comrades down to the subway. Wolverine stands alone, in the middle of a deserted street. As the Locust rush nearer, the last thing we hear is his growling, as his face twists into a feral grin.

High above the skirmish, the aerial battle rages on. The Reavers are everywhere. Thor and Iron Man lead the assault, embracing the ferocity of the fight. Falcon, Miss Marvel, Jessica Jones and Spider-Woman engage any of the creatures that stray from the main battle, keeping them back from civilians and any rescue effort aircraft. A small squad of Locust reach a rooftop and set up a vantage point. They immediately open fire on both the civilians on the streets below and the superheroes in the sky above.

VOICE: Oh, I bet you guys thought you were sooooo clever!

Spider-man drops out of the sky amidst the shrieking Locust. He lands smoothly onto the roof and kicks one in the face, sending him hurtling over the edge. The others begin shooting erratically.

SPIDER-MAN: Hey, now! Didn’t your Locust drill sergeant ever teach you guys to keep your cool when confronted with a man in lycra??

He spins on his heel and uppercuts a Locust grunt as it tries to pull out a sidearm. Shoots a blast of web-fluid into the face of another, then roundhouse kicks it in the chest. Spins around again and elbows another in the face, then throws him to the floor. The last Locust grunt rushes towards him and runs right into a vicious head-butt from the wall-crawler.

SPIDER-MAN: Okay, so, for future reference: basic knowledge of firearms, but virtually no experience with close quarter’s unarmed combat. Seriously, if you guys really want to invade Earth, then you need to…

He stops. His spider-sense goes berserk. He scans the rooftop, but can’t see any foes. On another rooftop a few buildings away, a Locust sniper brings his weapon to bear, just as Spider-Woman flies unwittingly into its path.

SPIDER-MAN: LOOK OUT!!!

Too late. The Locust fires a round. It misses her skull but explodes through her shoulder and collarbone. She screams.

SPIDER-MAN: JESSICA!!!

He leaps into the air and swings over to her, just as the injured Avenger begins to fall from the sky. He catches her in mid-air. As they head back to the Tower, he picks up the sound of the sniper reloading his weapon. A string of web fluid drags him over the edge, and flings him down into the violence of the streets below.

SPIDER-MAN: Hey, Logan! Make this guy feel at home will ya?

He swings away and lands on a rooftop to examine his wounded passenger. Blood is gushing down her torso in streams, and her right arm is all but hanging off her.

SPIDER-WOMAN: GAAAARRRGH!!! 

SPIDER-MAN: Hold still, Jess, I can help you here.

He holds her right arm steady and with his free hand spins a makeshift sling/bandage out of his webbing. The bleeding slightly recedes, but it does nothing to dull the pain of almost having your arm shot off.

SPIDER-MAN: How’s that? How does that feel?

SPIDER-WOMAN: Grrrrnnnhhh…thank you….

SPIDER-MAN: I’ll get you to the Tower. Hold on.

He picks her up gently and holds her in both his arms. He shoots web fluid to the side of a building and swings away. They pass over countless signs of battle and destruction across the city; smouldering buildings, street fires, looting, and innumerable gunfights.

A stray Reaver rears up in front of them, screeching wildly and knocks them out of the sky. Its Locust rider opens fire on them, as they scramble to stay in the air.

Spider-man grabs hold of the side of a building as the Reaver dives at them, bullets raining down on them.

SPIDER-MAN:I have an idea. It’s kinda crazy, but it’ll get you back home quicker!

SPIDER-WOMAN: DO IT!!!

With Spider-woman in tow, he rushes head-on to meet the enormous tentacle monster.

The scene switches back to Avengers Tower. Steve Rogers is surveying the sky battle through high powered binoculars. Behind him, Maria Hill and a small army of technicians are trying to keep visuals and communications running. On one screen, the face of Nick Fury appears, unbidden.

FURY: Rogers.

Steve spins around at the sound of the old Colonel’s voice.

ROGERS: Fury?

FURY: Put me on your private channel. This is for your ears only.

Steve clicks a button on the comm device on his wrist. Fury’s face and voice disappear from the screen, and his voice comes through Steve’s earpiece.

ROGERS: Where are you, Nick? Where are you in all of this?

FURY: At a safe place. Out of the city. I’m sending the co-ordinates to you now.

ROGERS: And why would you do that?

FURY: Because, right now, the President and his heads of staff are discussing levelling the city in order to end your “Locust” threat. And we both know that before long, it won’t be a discussion anymore.

ROGERS: He wouldn’t…

FURY: He will, and you know it. Your army of Avengers can’t fight forever. Even Thor and the Red Hulk will run outta steam. Look at the battlefield, soldier; all you’re doing is stalling them.

ROGERS: If the least we can do is get the civilians to safety…

FURY: That won’t be enough for the powers that be. My place is big enough and has enough quarters for all of your people, a new base for you to fight from. So when he calls you, and tells you to give up the fight, make the right call. Fury out.

ROGERS: Fury? Fury!

HILL: Sir, Red Hulk just radioed in. Luke Cage and his people have arrived downstairs.

Steve stands motionless, his mind reeling from Fury’s words.

HILL: Sir?

Still grappling with the troubling news, he slowly turns to face his second-in-command. Before he can utter a word, the building trembles and a rumble comes from upstairs. The two of them reach for their guns and race to the cause of the disturbance.

On the roof of the Tower, the carcass of a Reaver has crash landed. Steve and Maria slowly approach it, weapons drawn. As they get closer, they notice around the beast’s mouth, layers of webbing are wrapped like a set of reins. Slowly, two figures slide off its back.

HILL: Oh my God…

Spider-man slowly walks over, supporting Spider-woman, almost delirious with pain.

SPIDER-MAN: Cap, take her. She needs a medic right now.

Steve races over to them and picks up the wounded hero with both arms, holding her like a child. 

ROGERS: I’ve got her. Are you hurt?

SPIDER-MAN: Ah, you know, usual alien battle bumps and bruises

He turns around and heads to the edge of the rooftop.

ROGERS: Peter, wait! Where are you going?

Spider-man turns back to face him. His mask obscures his face, but he’s bewildered at the absurdity of the question.

SPIDER-MAN: Back into the fight. You, of all people should know that.

He dives off the ledge, momentarily disappears from view, then Steve spots him swinging back into the chaos. He watches him for a second, thoughtfully. Then a groan from Spider-Woman brings him back to senses, and they return inside.

Far below, and seven blocks away, Captain America moves cautiously amidst the ruin in the street. Head down, he races behind a destroyed car. He spots commotion in an alleyway across the street. Adjusting the shield on his back, cocks his rifle, takes a deep breath then charges onto the now-abandoned road. As he moves through the open space, bullets ricochet off his shield. 

The single Locust rises from its hiding place behind a ruined bus. Bucky levels his machine gun and, in one swift reflex, let’s loose a volley into his assailant’s chest, then lowers his weapon and runs on.

As he reaches the entrance to the alley, he hears the howls and screeches of a pack of Wretches huddled in the far corner. One of them sniffs the air and turns on the intruder. Bucky opens fire again and kills them all, one by one as they pounce at him. When the last of them falls to the ground, riddled with bullet holes, the walls of the alley are splashed with blood and gore. 

He surveys the scene, and finds something in the corner where the Locust were gathered. 

BUCKY: Oh, no…

Its Squirrel Girl.

Her body has been ripped to pieces. There are cuts and bites all over her arms, her throat, her torso. Some of her organs are showing, and so is one of her eyes.

Bucky slowly, reverently, approaches. He can’t take his eyes from the Avenger’s devastated body. 

BUCKY: I’m sorry…I should’ve found you sooner. I’m so…

A noise from behind distracts him. He snaps back to life, gun poised.

Behind a dumpster, covered in a small blanket and making sobbing sounds, is Danielle Cage.

Amazed, the new Captain America drops his weapon and runs to pick up the baby. He turns back to the desecrated body of Squirrel Girl. He understands how she died now.

BUCKY: You were being chased, so you hid the baby while you had the chance and let them corner you. You tried to fight them, they overwhelmed you, but you fought on. You fought to make sure they didn’t notice the girl.

With his free hand, he raises his arm in a stiff salute.

BUCKY: Rest in peace, Avenger.

He lowers his arm, lifts his rifle from the ground and holds it with one arm. He heads back out of the alley and towards home.

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

3AM After the End

4.5k | Explicit | Rape/Non-Con | X-Men Movies

While the mutant children continue on to the border, Logan is captured by what’s left of the Reavers.

So is Donald Pierce. Turns out, they aren’t all too happy with their old boss.

[strawberrysunsets]

The Empty World (Ch. 8)

Donald Pierce x fReader

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Pierce and the Reavers are sent to capture a mutant with mysterious abilities. This chapter: The mutant settles into their new world at Transigen's laboratory.

Warnings: Injury, swearing, mention of death, manipulation.

Angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers

Author's Note: Sorry for disappearing for literally 4 months! But... here's a new chapter! 😬

P.S. I changed it so that the MC/Reader is going by the name 'Ray' while at Transigen (an old nickname, given to them by a friend) cause I was getting tired of using y/n 👍

Chapter 8: Assignment

That night, you lay in the darkness without even trying to sleep. It was futile, for whenever you closed your eyes, you were inundated by all the images and sounds you tried to push away by day. 

Gunfire. 

Shouts; screams. 

Logan’s voice, calling your name; telling you that if you’d only gotten there a little sooner…you might have all made it out together. One small, strange family; the only thing you’d ever wanted. Except that Caliban and Charles had already been gone by the time you reached North Dakota, and there was no bringing them back. Any of them. 

You let out a sharp breath and rolled over in the darkness, curling your wings in around you as you stared out the window. The lights of Mexico City twinkled back at you; replacing the stars with a thousand points of neon and lighting the sky with a purple haze. You wondered if somewhere out there, any trains were passing by in the night. Living at Logan’s compound in New Mexico, you’d grown used to the sound of the freighter passing on the tracks, and shaking the whole building with its rumbling progress. It had grown comforting, in a way; making you feel as if you weren’t the only one alone in the darkness. 

There was nothing, and no one, to keep you company now. 

***

The light of day was an unwelcome intruder when it finally dragged you from sleep. Somewhere, an alarm was going off. 

You stumbled around blearily to shut it off, knocking over a lamp with your wings in the process. 

I have to dissipate these fucking wings, you thought with half a mind, before collapsing back onto the bed with a sigh. You couldn’t live like this forever, but the thought of engaging with your powers again – of drawing on the Ether – was too much for right now. Because it brought up all the memories of working with Caliban as you learned to control it, and those were the memories you were currently trying to push into the darkest corner of your mind. 

But you had something else to focus on, for today; for you’d slept well into the afternoon, and had a meeting to get to. You showered and dressed, wincing with every movement that pulled at your still-healing shoulder and the burns along your calves, then set off in the direction of Ansley's office.

Some personnel were just leaving when you arrived, and you stood back to let them pass, shooting them cold glares as you did. You didn’t know who they were, but figured that anyone working for Transigen – save the nurses and aids, who seemed like decent people – were probably no good. 

Can’t hurt to be hostile. It was your new motto. 

“Come in,” Ansley called, as you turned to enter his office. “I trust you’re finding your way around alright?” 

“Oh, perfectly,” you muttered, lowering yourself into one of the cushioned chairs facing his desk. “I’ve always wanted to live in a research lab that failed its ethics review.” 

Ansley raised a brow, and finished typing something on his laptop before turning his full attention to you. 

“Yes, well. Most personnel have accommodations outside the facility, but it seems like this arrangement might be better suited to your situation. For the time being, at least."

You shrugged a wing noncommittally. 

“Now – we have a few things to discuss before the team briefing. Your contract, here; and these regulations pertaining to the facility.” 

After a bout of paperwork during which you scratched your name – not your real name; just Ray, the old nickname you’d given them to use – onto more dotted lines than you cared to count – the terms and conditions for life, it seemed – you heard a pair of heavy footfalls approach the office’s door. 

“Ansley,” a drawling voice greeted, as Pierce and another man entered the office. You stiffened at Pierce's arrival, and eyed him with all the trust one might reserve for a feral tiger with which they shared a cage. He sat in the chair across from you, and sighed as he motioned for the other man – someone dressed in dark combat gear; probably another Reaver – to close the door behind them. 

Pierce was wearing a dark button-up shirt and fatigues of the kind you’d come to associate with him. His gaze met yours as he sat, and his eyes seemed serious beneath the shadowed fall of his hair. 

“Pierce; Clark,” Ansley greeted. “Ray, you’ll have met Pierce,” Ansley introduced, nodding towards them. “Our Head of Security. And Andrew Clark; our Facility Security Coordinator. You’ll be working closely with them on most of your assignments. Particularly this first one.” 

Your gaze flicked coldly between the two men, trying not to linger again on Pierce, and then moved back to Ansley. “And what exactly is my first assignment?”

Ansley nodded slightly, sighing through his nose as he leaned back in his chair. “Pierce, do you want to do the honours?”

Pierce’s gaze slid to you once more, and he tapped his metal fingers absentmindedly on his knee. The bruises you’d spotted on his neck yesterday were now concealed by the collar of his shirt, so for all intents and purposes he seemed back to his normal self. 

“Recon and acquisition,” Pierce said. “We’ll be getting intel on some friendly neighbourhood competition, and taking back something of ours.” 

Your gaze shifted from Pierce, back to Ansley. 

“A few months ago,” Ansley continued, “one of our top researchers – Dr. Johan Hansfeld – was poached from our ranks.” 

“The competition offered him bigger bucks,” Pierce cut in, for your benefit.

“Unfortunately, he took some important research with him when he left,” Ansley continued. “Which we’re looking to recover. He’s currently working with Zenith Labs, and we’re looking to remove him from their ranks, as well.” 

You sat back, a cold feeling creeping over your skin. 

“So you want me to steal something, and kill someone?” 

Ansley waved a hand airily, though his expression darkened slightly. “You’re returning to us what is already ours. And we’ll simply be reminding Johan of the intellectual property he owes us, before he goes into a convenient retirement in the Bahamas. In any case – your purpose is not to question your assignments. It’s to carry them out.” 

Your hackles rose, but you were saved from replying by a knock at the door. 

“Come in!” Ansley called, as a woman with dark, curly hair entered the office, carrying a stack of laminated files. 

“Ansley; good to see you,” she said, approaching to shake the hand he extended as he stood. 

“Thank you for joining us,” Ansley said. “We’re glad to have you. Pierce; you’ve met Gloria,” he said. “And Ray, this is Gloria Fueyo; an accomplished journalist. She happens to share our interest in exposing the corruption at Zenith Labs, and has a briefing on their facility's layout for you and Pierce’s team to study. Your assignment will take place a week from today.” 

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur, as you studied floor plans and tried not to think too much about what exactly it was that you’d gotten yourself into. Lack of sleep and the constant throbbing pain of your injuries muddled your thoughts, though, and doubt began to creep into the spaces between them. You were going to raid a laboratory, at night, and kidnap a scientist. There’d be security personnel guarding the lab, but Pierce would take them out for you, as he'd assured you. He was a mercenary – a trained killer – and you were working with him. 

What would Charles, Logan, and Caliban think of me now? You thought, rubbing your temples. What would anyone? 

You limped down to the cafeteria to get food when it grew dark outside Transigen’s windows, and then returned to the infirmary to have your wounds checked before heading back to your rooms. The antiseptic tang of the medical bay was nearly growing comforting, given your frequent visits, and you let a nurse – not Benjamin, and you’d been too tired to learn their name – work away at the dressings on your shoulder and calves without comment.

“You’ll be alright, if you try not to strain your shoulder,” the nurse told you, the lilt of her accent lending the words melody. “And try not to get the bandages wet.” 

You took the pills she proffered, and gazed up at the fluorescent lights as you waited for them to kick in.

You could see yourself falling into a rhythm, here – in this soulless building, with its concrete walls and unquestioned orders. It would be a mind-numbing routine of waking, showering, carrying out assignments, and eating tasteless food. A routine which didn’t require thinking, or feeling. And perhaps it was better, that way. Perhaps that was the best way to get through this indentured servitude, to which you felt as if you'd sold your soul.  

A line of hot liquid traced down your cheek, and you sat up as the tear trickled into your hair. Late as it was and exhausted as you were, you should probably get back to your rooms. Besides, you didn’t want the nurses and aids to see you cry. 

***

The way back to your rooms felt longer than usual, and you got confused along the way, taking the elevator a floor above where you’d meant to get off. You sighed as you leaned against the hallway's nondescript grey wall, waiting for the elevator’s blinking light to return for you.

In the quiet, you couldn’t help but reach for your power.

It had been blocked to you since North Dakota, like a limb grown too numb to feel, but given the day's events, you were itching to regain even the slightest feeling of control over your situation. Harnessing the Ether again would mean being able to dissipate your wings – which would be an incredible relief, given the astounding inconveniences associated with them. Having feathers tickle your neck twenty-four hours a day did not particularly lend itself to mental stability.

You knew the effort was futile, but tried to concentrate anyways, ignoring the ding of the elevator as it arrived. You braced yourself against the wall, and dug for the Ether. For a moment, lights blossomed behind your closed eyelids, and a wave of heat washed over you. Then the power trickled from your grasp, like so much sand escaping through your fingers.

The cold shock hit you a moment later, as the effort of trying to push past the block took its toll. Tremors wracked your body, and you slid to the floor, feeling suddenly sick. A throbbing pain took up behind your temples.

From somewhere nearby, a door opened, and footfalls approached. Then someone was kneeling before you. 

“You alright there, sweetheart?” Pierce asked. He crouched before you, gaze sweeping over you in assessment. You worked to catch your breath, blinking to clear your vision of stars. 

“I—I’m—” you began, taken aback by his sudden presence. And his proximity. He reached out a hand to steady you, a look akin to concern flashing across his face. 

“Where did you come from?” You asked, dumbly.

He cocked his head with a frown. “You in the habit of collapsing in hallways?” He returned, ignoring your question. 

“It’s a pastime,” you replied, using the wall for support and struggling to stand as the dizziness dissipated. He helped you up, threading a strong arm beneath yours to lift you as you regained your footing. “Well, seems like we should get you to the med-bay, in that case," he replied evenly. As if this was just another normal night of finding people collapsed in hallways.

You shook your head and breathed out a laugh. “I just came from the infirmary. I don’t feel like going back there tonight.” 

Pierce stood still for a moment, his body pressed to yours where he supported you, eyes narrow and unreadable. Then he sighed. “Well, you wanna sit down for a minute?” He asked. “Seems like you’re on your last legs.” 

You glanced up at him, uncomprehending, then made sense of the door which stood ajar a few paces down the hallway. Light streamed from it. That’s where he’d come from. An office? His rooms? You didn’t know. But getting all the way back to your rooms didn’t sound like much fun right now, and you were pricked with a vague sense of curiosity as to what lay beyond the door.  

You sighed, letting your head droop in exhaustion for a moment. Then – “Sure,” you replied. 

Pierce adjusted his grip beneath your arms, and helped you towards the door.  

Quite the gentleman, if I didn’t know him better than that.

This close, he smelled of night air from the city outside, and a hint of musk that must belong to a cologne. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, and you were reminded suddenly of the first time you'd met him. Deep in the forests of Maine; when you’d been prey, without knowing you were being hunted.

You shook the thought away, and focused on not falling on your face as you entered the room.

It was simple and functional, like yours – but larger, and with adjoining rooms leading from it on either side. This main room held chairs, and a table by the window, whose wooden surface was strewn with a number of items – papers, a jacket, a radio, a holster.

Pierce led you towards the nearest chair, and you fell into it, wincing as the movement ignited the pain in your temples once more.

"Water?" Pierce asked, disappearing into the next room and returning a moment later with a glass.

"Sure," you said belatedly, taking it from him.

You glanced up at him as he crossed to the chair opposite you and dropped into it, off-put by the strangeness of the situation.

This man was one of your greatest enemies. He was a large part of the reason your life was currently in shambles, and was indirectly responsible for the deaths of at least two of the people you loved. Yet he was offering you a glass of water.

Pierce appeared to be the picture of ease as he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. He raised a brow as he caught you watching him, and tilted his head knowingly.

“Do you live here?” You asked, to redirect his attention.  

He eyed you evenly, face impassive. “Sometimes, if work goes late,” he replied. 

You grunted, and placed your water on a nearby table to massage your temples. “So why’d you invite me in?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a very decent person,” he said mockingly, leaning forwards in his chair. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret. You’re no use to me dead.” 

You eyed him, then tried to reposition yourself in your chair, uncomfortable with the angle at which your injured shoulder was resting. The better question was, why had you agreed to come in?

“You got shot, didn’t ya?” Pierce asked, his gaze following your movement. “Your shoulder.” 

You nodded, then shot him a pointed glare, but his focus was on the bandages exposed by your sleeveless top. He rose to approach you. He raised a placating hand as he did, in the same motion he’d made the other day. No need to worry, it said. I mean no harm. 

Knowing him, that was doubtful. 

Pierce came to a halt beside your chair, and you caught your breath as he did a cursory examination of the bandages, fingers skimming your shoulder and back. You couldn’t help but shiver at his touch. 

“You should ice this muscle, and this one,” Pierce said, motioning to two points behind your shoulder blade. “They tell you that?” 

You shook your head, startled out of words by the contact. 

“Yeah, well.” He said, hands falling away. “They ain’t been shot in the shoulder before.” He flashed you a grin, and was about to turn away when his gaze caught on the bandages on your legs. “What about these?” He asked, crouching to examine them. 

“Burns,” you said, taken aback. “Second degree. Same as you, I’d guess.” 

He raised his eyes to meet yours, and for a moment you knew the memory of the fire at the farmhouse was blazing bright in both your minds. Then he stood, and crossed the room to disappear into the adjoining one. 

“Could be,” he called back, amidst the noise of items being riffled through. “Or maybe I got out without a scratch. That’d be good for publicity.” He returned, a pair of tensor ice packs held in each hand. 

“I always keep some of these around. They’re a neat little trick; cut the hell out of the healing time.” He pulled his chair up beside yours.

He would know that, you guessed, given his line of work. He'd probably had his fair share of injuries, bravado aside.

Pierce unwound one of the ice packs, and leaned down to reach for one of your legs. Then he paused, glancing up at you. “This alright, sweetheart?”

You cleared your throat. To be honest, you didn’t mind his attention – which was its own brand of madness. There were layers of weirdness to being here with him that you weren’t ready to unpack yet, but you couldn’t help but enjoy having someone see you – consider you – beyond the impersonal examinations conducted by the doctors and nurses. 

Pierce shot you a lopsided smile. “Can’t say I’m used to putting these things on other people, but I don’t mind trying."

“Uhh –” you said uncertainly. “Sure. If it’ll help.” 

Pierce leaned down and lifted up one of your legs, resting it on his knee before beginning to wind the tensor pack atop the bandages covering it. 

“You been into the city yet?” He asked, focused on the ice pack as his hands worked. His cybernetic arm seemed just as competent as his human one at the task, though its metal fingers were cold when they brushed your exposed skin.  

“Not yet,” you replied. “Been a bit busy signing my life away to corporate.” 

Pierce moved onto the next leg, his mussed hair falling into his eyes as he did. He brushed it away absentmindedly. You hadn’t noticed it before, but you saw now that he wasn’t in his usual work attire. He wore a black t-shirt, and his hair seemed rumpled, giving the impression that he was distinctly off-duty. 

“Well, there are some nice spots. Damn hot in the summer; but the coast is real nice.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be getting out to do much sight seeing. I’m one step away from being a prisoner here–" you said, venom entering your voice “–but you know that.” 

Pierce finished with your second leg, and let it return to the ground, sitting back in his chair. “You ain't a prisoner," he replied. "Not anymore. Now you're an employee," he grinned.

You snorted derisively.

"And you gotta steal the moments you can, sweetheart,” he said. “That’s all life is.” 

Pierce stood, and motioned for you to do the same. “We should get this one on your shoulder. It’s looking pretty swollen.” 

You stood, legs still slightly shaky. Pierce took your elbow to steady you, then shot you a half-smile as he unwound the last tensor. He leaned forward, and his chest pressed lightly to yours as he wound the ice pack around your torso. Once again, the heat of his proximity made you catch your breath.

God help me. You'd officially lost it. Or maybe you were just tired of being alone, and on the run, and only being touched when someone wanted to hurt you.

“I was trying to use my mutation,” you admitted suddenly, distracted by Pierce’s nearness. “In the hallway. That's why I ... that's why that happened. But I can't, right now. I don’t know why it did that to me.” 

Pierce leaned away slightly, enough to look down at your face. He was so close that you could see the flecks of oceanic blue in his eyes, and the remnants of a scar marring the corner of one of his eyebrows.  

“Huh,” he said, finishing securing the tensor and stepping back. “And you don’t think it might have something to do with the fact that you nearly died half a dozen different ways the last few weeks?” 

Your gaze slid sideways, and you considered the possibility. Could the block in your power be just that? Exhaustion? 

It was possible. Hell, considering everything your body had been through in the last month, it would be a miracle if your abilities were at full strength. But some part of you knew that the wound went even deeper than that. It stemmed from all the emotions – and the realities – that you were currently working hard to shut down, conceal, and ignore. 

You shrugged noncommittally, and were about to move back to your chair when Pierce reached out and caught one of your hands. His hand was firm and callused, and lifted yours towards him as he examined the white striations which wound up your wrist like twining vines. 

Lightning scars, from one of your first forays into the world of the Ether. 

You pulled your arm away, breaking the contact. And you were about to take a step back, when a sudden mad idea rushed into your head.

Without stopping to think, you took a step forwards, closing the distance between you as you wound a hand around the back of Pierce's neck. Your fingers traced through his hair, and it felt as you'd imagined. Soft.

Pierce stilled, eyes locking with yours. For a moment, you stood close to one another, breathing each other in. Then, when he didn't pull away, you slowly closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. 

For a moment Pierce was still and rigid against you – surprised or disgusted, you couldn't tell – but then he responded to the kiss, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. His lips were hot against yours, and all thoughts fled from your mind as the kiss deepened.

His tongue parted your lips, tasting you. You found yourself wrapping your arm more firmly around his neck to bring your bodies more tightly against one another, and Pierce responded, one of his hands grasping your hip to anchor you to him while the other trailed up your back.

When he took your lip between his teeth and bit it, the pleasure in the twinge of pain made you gasp.

The moment stretched out, interminably long, as you lost yourself in the kiss.

Then you pulled away, breaking the embrace. 

You didn't know what had brought you back to your senses, but you stood, breathing hard, as you stared at Donald Pierce. Your pulse was racing.

Pierce was breathing hard, too, and a bemused smile crept across his face as you watched.

“So, how long have you been waiting to do that?” He asked, dragging a thumb across his bottom lip. His eyes glinted with predatory amusement.

How long – you hadn't been waiting to do that, and now that you'd done it you could barely believe that you had.

"I – should be getting back to my rooms," you said, hiding your flushing cheeks by turning away and starting towards the door.

Pierce followed.

"Alright, sugar," he replied. "I'll take you. Third floor, isn't it?"

You glanced back at him, and let out a breath of exasperation. "Figures you know where I live. And I'll be fine to get there; it's not far."

You didn't know what you were feeling at that moment, and would rather be away from him while you untangled it all.

Pierce sighed. "Yeah, but you ain't in good shape, and I don't want all my hard work to go to waste," he said, nodding to your legs and shoulder.

He proffered you his arm.

"Besides, I don't mind."

You stood still for a moment, looking between him and his outstretched hand. Then you turned your gazed skywards, and sent out a silent prayer to whatever god might be listening.

Please let me not be out of my fucking mind for this.

You stepped forwards, and took his arm.

***

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