#weapons of mutant destruction

[turtleblogatlast]

Unironically think that each of the bros (+April) don’t actually get how impressive their feats really are so they just do what they do and on the off chance someone comments on those feats they all react like:

[cosmicdahlias]

Christmas Across the Rio Grande

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Christmas has come and you’re spending it getting drunk with an old, hardened Logan.

tags: age gap, alcohol use, drunk sex, couch sex, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

sooo timeline-wise this takes place at the end of 2028. i tried to do my best research as to when caliban comes into the picture and there wasn’t much, but from what i’ve read it seems logan recruited him some time in 2029, so he will not be in this fic. sorry for posting a christmas fic a day late, i only got the idea for this two days ago 😭

Life had not been the same in months. Charles Xavier, once head and founder of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, had developed dementia, leading to frequent destructive telepathic seizures. One such seizure became known as the Westchester Incident, leaving the school destroyed, many injured, and some of your fellow mutants dead.

Having grown up in an orphanage until aging out of the system and spending the first eight years of adulthood on the streets, Charles was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father and the school was the only place that ever truly felt like home. In such a short time you had lost both. Even though Charles was still very much alive, the dementia left him a shell of his former self.

After Westchester the United States government declared Charles’ brain as a “weapon of mass destruction”, leaving you and another mutant to take him and go on the run, fleeing to an abandoned smelting plant in Mexico just across the Rio Grande.

The other mutant was the notorious Wolverine, Logan Howlett. For reasons unknown to you, his appearance had changed dramatically in the last five years. Despite not being able to age he looked like he’d gone from forty to sixty in record time.

Since escaping with you and Charles to Mexico, Logan had taken to going by “James”, his actual name, and worked as a limo driver in the border city of El Paso. He would regularly smuggle in the drugs to keep Charles’ seizures at bay.

In the days before Westchester you were never fond of Logan. He was a loner, seeming to keep everyone at arm’s length, save for those he would bed. Perhaps it was his tendencies towards promiscuity when he claimed to be in love with Jean Grey, a married woman, that irked you more than his personality.

He was passed around the mansion so frequently that from what you’d heard there were times he accidentally “double booked” himself. There was a part of you, buried somewhere deep, that harbored a resentment towards him for never seeking out your affections like he did for nearly any other adult with a pulse.

Living in close proximity since being thrust into exile with him had softened your opinions considerably. The shared trauma of losing everything and everyone had brought you two closer, as close as he would allow.

December was coming to an end. The nights were blisteringly cold and the winds only served to make them colder. The poorly insulated, run-down plant did little to protect you from the elements.

You were heading back inside from painstakingly, but successfully, attempting to medicate Charles. The heavy gales howled, making it a struggle to close the door before finally managing slam it shut. You turned around to see Logan sitting on the couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. He was wearing his typical non-work attire, a white tank top and jeans.

“He finally down?” He asked.

“For now, I swear those drugs used to knock him out for longer. He wouldn’t stop going on about Taco Bell for some reason.”

“Yeah, he uh… he does that a lot now.”

You gave a heavy sigh.

“It just sucks because it makes those moments where he acts like himself again hurt more.”

“What’d he say this time?”

“He just- I don’t know- whenever he actually says my name I know it’s him in there. Most of the time he calls me Jean, but I-“ your voice began to break “I don’t know how much more of this I can take Logan, watching his mind wither away into nothing.” You said, tears forming in your eyes.

For a moment you swore you saw a flicker of concern spread across his face.

“I’m thinking of bringing in some extra help.” He said.

“And what? We risk someone else knowing that we’re harboring a fugitive?”

“With me working that leaves you as the only one here most of the time. If god forbid something happens while I’m out and he hurts you, what then?”

You fell silent. He was right, you couldn’t keep caring for Charles alone when his seizures could be so dangerous and unpredictable. You had no rebuttal.

“Fine, but finding another mutant won’t be easy.”

“I’m well aware, but I’m done talking business, you look like you could use a drink.”

Logan extended out his bottle of whiskey, a rare invitation for you to join him. You smirked and took it.

“Look at you actually wanting to interact with someone for once.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

You sat next to him on the moth-eaten couch, drinking a few shots worth from the bottle.

“Thirsty?” Logan asked with a cocked brow.

“Shut up, it’s been a long day.” You retorted, downing another shot and handing the bottle back to him.

Between the two of you the whiskey was finished within half an hour, leaving you significantly intoxicated, him slightly less so. When drunk Logan was far more open, and for the first time since Westchester you actually saw him smile. As the night progressed the two of you reminisced about life before Mexico and shared life stories you hadn’t told each other.

“A cage fighter?” You giggled.

“Yeah, went by Wolverine back then too.”

“Wow, too lazy to even try to come up with another name?” You teased as you looked down at your phone and read the time, midnight of the 25th.

“Oh shit, it’s already Christmas.” You said.

“Honestly wouldn’t have known if you didn’t say anything, the days just run together at this point.”

“No kidding, everything’s so different now.”

“… Yeah.”

A wistful silence hung in the air for a moment before you spoke.

“You know it’s hard not to miss the holidays back at the school… can’t say I miss Jean’s cooking though. I know how you felt about her, but that woman could not season food to save her life. I’m pretty sure she thought salt was too spicy.”

Logan gave a chuckle.

“Can’t disagree with you on that one.”

“I think what I miss most was seeing the kids all happy on Christmas morning, growing up in an orphanage I never got that for myself. Thanks to Bobby they always had a good snowball fight.”

“I miss that kid. Him and Rogue.”

“Kid? They were both pushing 40.” You laughed.

“They were kids when I met them and that’s always how I’ll remember them. Especially Rogue.”

“I always thought she saw you as like a father figure.”

“She definitely did, no matter how many times I told her not to.”

“I miss her so much, she was the first one other than Charles to make me feel like I belonged there. Fuck, I just miss all of them. It was only five years, but it was the best damn five years of my life, actually having something like a family.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

You gave a wry smile.

“And in the end out of all of the X-Men to be stuck with of course it had to be you.” You teased, elbowing him playfully.

“You say that like it’s a joke, but you really had it in for me.”

“I mean I did, but you didn’t exactly come off as a nice guy.”

“I can be a nice guy, you just never tried to get to know me.”

“Would you have let me though?”

“Maybe.”

He looked at you in a way you’d never seen from him before, it made your heart do a backflip.

“You know, even if I wasn’t crazy about you back then I’m glad you’re here with me.” You said.

Logan raised a brow.

“Why’s that?”

“Because as much as I hate to say it, I’ve grown to like you.”

“A mistake honestly.” He chuckled.

A cold desert wind suddenly blew against dilapidated smelting plant. Frigid air crept in through the gaps in the walls, eliciting a shiver as it hit you.

“Cold?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah.“

“Alright, c’mere.”

Logan pulled you against him, wrapping his arms around you. His body radiated an incredible amount of heat, a more than welcoming feeling in the bitter temperatures.

“Holy shit, you’re like a fucking furnace.” You said.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“God yes.”

His hands began to wander down to the small of your back. You traced the outline of his pecs with your fingertips. He looked at you, eyes betraying an intense desire as he cupped your cheek, coming in close.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.” You whispered as his lips met yours.

Starting slow and soft, Logan’s kisses quickly turned more passionate, a distinct hunger to them. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his hard cock press into you through his jeans. You rolled your hips against him, causing him to let out a growl. He lowered his head, kissing and gingerly biting your neck. You moaned as his teeth scraped against the soft skin.

His hands began to drift to the hem of your shirt, gathering the fabric in his fingers and slowly lifting it over your head. He unclasped your bra, sliding the straps off your arms and tossing its aside. You watched his eyes take in the curvature of your breasts.

“Good fuckin’ god, you’re perfect.” He whispered, cupping one of your breasts and circling the nipple with his thumb.

Logan’s hands fell to your hips, tugging down your jeans until they landed on the floor with your shirt. His fingers circled your clit over your panties, the thin barrier of fabric did little to keep you from turning into a whimpering mess.

“Goddam, I love those little noises.“

Logan dipped his head down to kiss your neck again, you moaned and began to grind yourself against him.

“Hmm, getting excited there, princess? Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Uh-huh.” You whimpered.

“Yeah? Let me make it feel even better for you, babygirl.”

Logan hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs. He slipped a hand between your thighs, dragging his fingers along the slit of your dripping pussy.

“So wet and worked up for me.”

Logan returned his fingers to your clit, you dug your nails into his shoulders, the feeling of direct stimulation was almost too overwhelming. It had been far too long since you were last touched like this, or even touched yourself. You weren’t going to last much longer.

“F- fuck, I’m- I’m so close.”

“There you go, that’s it. Cum for me, princess.”

Logan pulled you into a kiss with his free hand as you came undone on his fingers, the electric pulses of your orgasm surging through you.

“Oh god, Logan.” You moaned against his mouth.

Logan kissed you aggressively as your orgasm faded. He dropped his head to your breasts, peppering kisses to them as he spoke.

“God, you’re so hot when you cum. You need to see what you’re doing to me, babygirl.”

Logan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it, he unzipped his jeans and freed his already throbbing cock from his boxers. Logan took your hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his shaft. You gathered beads of precum from his head, using it to lubricate the length of his cock as you stroked him.

“Fuuuck, your hand feels good, but I need that pussy. You wanna ride me, princess?”

You nodded.

“That’s my good girl.”

You shifted yourself to hover just above is cock, sinking down onto him, barely taking more than his head before wincing as you felt his massive girth stretch you wide.

“You alright?” Logan asked.

“Y- yeah, just been a while. Not used to one this big either.”

“Then take it slow, princess. Don’t rush it.”

You continued to lower yourself onto his cock, following his instructions to go slow. A small shudder escaped his lips.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight.”

You reached the hilt of his shaft, feeling him throb inside you as you began to lift and drop your hips.

“Attagirl, just like that. Nice and easy.” Logan said, his hands moving to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Christ, living with you was starting to drive me crazy. I could barely take seeing you in the summer, your ass in those little shorts. You don’t know how many times I had to jerk off because of you.”

You blushed and whimpered at the thought of Logan getting so worked up over you.

“Hmm, you like that, babygirl? You like knowing you made this old man stroke his fat fuckin’ cock to you?” He grunted as he grabbed your hips, thrusting up into you.

You nodded.

“Use your words, princess.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You moved yourself up and down on his cock, sliding him all the way out until only the head remained before taking his full length back deep inside you. Logan’s eyes wandered over every inch of body. His hand moved to one of your breasts.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of these tits, and this ass.” He growled.

He raised his hand and brought it down sharply on your ass, eliciting a yelp.

“Sorry, princess, couldn’t help myself.”

“N- no it’s okay, I like it.”

“Oh? You like it rough, huh?”

“Y- yeah.”

“Well, guess I gotta fuck you senseless then.”

In one swift motion Logan grabbed you by the waist, picking you up and throwing you down onto the couch on your back with him on top of you. You barely had a second to adjust to the new position before he forced every inch of himself inside you. He pinned your wrists above your head as he fucked you with a punishing speed.

“How’s that feel? Am I rough enough for you, princess?”

“Y- yeah. F- feels so good.”

“Attagirl.”

Logan’s breathing hitched, his hips stuttering.

“Christ, that tight little pussy’s gonna make me fuckin’ cum. Where do you want it, babygirl?” Logan panted.

“In me, I need you to cum in me. Please.” You whined.

“Jesus, I know you’re not on the pill, but keep begging like that and I’ll have to knock you up.”

“Oh god, please. I don’t care if we’re unprotected. I need it, fucking breed me.” You pleaded.

Your words ignited something within him. He thrusted furiously into you at a blinding pace, his breathing becoming ragged and heavy. He leaned down and sank his teeth into your neck and gave a loud growl, slamming the full length of his cock inside you as he came hot, thick ropes deep in you.

Logan gave a last few thrusts, his breathing beginning to settle. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“Jesus Christ, princess, it’s been way too damn long since someone’s made me feel that good. I hope you know this is not a one time thing, you’re fuckin’ mine now.”

You laced your fingers in his salt and pepper hair, kissing him passionately. He pulled out and you moved to dress yourself, but were interrupted by him grabbing your waist.

“No princess, you’re staying with me.”

He picked you up and carried you to his room, setting you down on the bed. He laid next to you, pulling you to him with your head against his chest. Between the exhaustion of the day and the warmth radiating from Logan, you felt your eyelids grow heavy. He kissed the top of your head as you drifted off to sleep.

[cobaltperun]

The Catalyst (3) - Monster

WandaNat x Female Reader

Chapter summary: The tensions keep rising and the first actual danger makes you act in a way you didn't think you ever would act again.

Spotify Playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part / Next Part

Word Count: 4.5k

-I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin I must confess that I feel like a monster-

Seething, you headed for the lab where Banner and Stark were working on finding the Cube, still very much affected by what Loki did to Natasha. And it annoyed you. It proved a fact you’ve been trying to ignore ever since you saw her for the first time in three years. That, as angry as you were, you still cared and you didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.

“L/N,” you saw her and Thor coming from the other hall, heading in the same direction as you were. Bringing Thor with her was smart, Loki wanted to turn Banner against you and if he succeeded you’d need someone as strong as Thor.

Words ‘are you okay’ got stuck in your throat and you just nodded, refusing to meet her eyes. You weren’t even sure she knew you’ve seen what happened. Fury knew, but that never meant everyone else involved knew. But no, she wasn’t okay, she was distraught, no matter how well she was hiding it.

In the end the decision was made for you. Even if you wanted to tell her anything you were already close enough to the lab to hear the guys arguing.

You went in, followed by Natasha and Thor, only to be met with the sight you frankly should have expected. A high-tech weapon, a firearm somewhat resembling a shotgun, right there on the table. You shouldn’t have been surprised, this was S.H.I.E.L.D. after all, the same people who developed mutant depowering serum, then strengthened it, made it last longer and finally turned that into gas and went after the X-Men. Now only a handful of the team remained, and they were scattered, spending their days in hiding. Perhaps you would have been one of the targets if you didn’t already leave the organization. That was a question you refused to entertain, you had enough gripes with S.H.I.E.L.D. as it was, you didn’t need those what ifs.

“Did you know about this?” Banner asked Natasha as you looked at Fury. He was dangerous, willing to do anything if he believed it was necessary.

“You wanna think about removing yourself from this environment, doctor?” Natasha suggested, setting her priorities straight, Banner could not lose control.

Banner laughed in disbelief. “I was in Calcutta, I was pretty well removed,” he reminded her, hints of his anger slipping through the cracks of his composure and putting damn near everyone on edge.

“Loki’s manipulating you,” Natasha warned him, tried to make him see reason and you were reminded of her conversation with Loki, how he got under her skin. Banner, with his fears and insecurities, was an easy target, one Loki didn’t even need to directly speak to.

“And you’ve been doing what exactly?” he challenged her, seeing right through her and Fury’s manipulations.

Against all the logic of self-perseverance you spoke up. “Fair point,” you had to agree, and you saw her hand twitch ever so slightly. Normally you weren’t all that eager to raise the tensions, but you couldn’t help yourself. You just spoke without thinking it through first.

Natasha ignored your quip and instead focused solely on Banner and deescalating the situation. “You didn’t come here because I bat my eyelashes at you.”

“Yes, and I’m not leaving because suddenly you get a little twitchy,” he then turned the screen and pointed at the schematics for missiles. “I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction.”

Everything became silent for a few moments, before Fury relented. “Because of him,” he said while pointed at Thor.

“Me?” you could hear confusion in Thor’s voice, hell, there was even a hint of hurt there.

“Last year Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, out-gunned,” Fury argued his case, and you’ve read the reports, you’ve seen from a relative distance what Hulk fighting that other monster looked like. As it was, S.H.I.E.L.D. was truly hilariously out-gunned.

“My people want nothing but peace with your planet,” Thor stated confidently.

You laughed at that, catching the man’s attention. “I’m sorry, isn’t one of your people the reason why we’re all here?”

Thor opened his mouth to respond, but Fury spoke up before Thor could utter a single word. “And, you’re not the only threat. The world’s filling up with people who can’t be matched, they can’t be controlled,” the fact that you actually sort of fueled Fury’s argument made you want to take it back.

You turned to glare and pointed your finger at Fury. “Oh, don’t you go playing a saint here, not when you turn on your own people,” you accused him.

“Controlled? You mean like you controlled the cube?” Rogers demanded fiercely, angered by the reckless actions Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. took.

“Yeah, that’s his M.O., he tries to control people and when they don’t let him, he turns on them. How long until you turn on your precious Avengers? Hm?” you asked, getting in Fury’s face, you could see a spark of anger in his eye, which only made you angrier that he even felt like he had the right to get angry.

“You are making this personal, agent L/N, it’s clouding your judgment,” you had to admit he had balls to say that when you could turn him into a pile of ash.

“You leave her to die, and you expect her to fight for you? I’m a narcissist, but you developed a brand new level of entitled,” Stark walked up to you and shoved a bag between you and Fury. “Blueberries?” he offered so casually you almost forgot about how serious this situation was.

It was like Stark’s whole demeanor brought at least a hint of clarity to your mind, reminding you that fighting Fury just wasn’t worth it. But then there was Stark. You observed him for a moment before taking a few. “Thanks,” at the end of the day there was no harm in the slight distraction. And come on, you were offered blueberries.

“I expect all of you to fight for this world!” Fury declared and you could tell he was getting frustrated over all of this. The team he was trying to gather was falling apart right in front of his eyes.

“But only under your terms,” you countered and when Stark offered you more blueberries you went and took them. “You don’t want a team, you want puppets to do your bidding,” at least the blueberries were good.

“This is bigger than all of your individual egos and grudges,” Natasha joined in, recognizing that Fury was losing his patience.

And you suddenly got a foul taste in your mouth that not even the blueberries could fix and what little clarity you regained was once more enveloped in fog of reckless anger. Of all the people to throw that at you it had to be her. “Yeah, you just keep on following orders,” you snapped at her and watched as she opened her mouth and then changed her mind, choosing to instead just look away.

“You brought this on yourselves. Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war,” Thor tried to focus the conversation back on what was important.

“A higher form?!” Rogers demanded, alarmed at the idea. And he wasn’t even around to see the worst of what the Second World War brought.

“Sure, that’s exactly how war works. They’ll wait for us to get ready,” Natasha countered sarcastically and took a few steps back, trying to remove herself from the arguments, especially if it meant arguing with you even more.

Fury turned to Thor in disbelief. “You forced our hand! We had to come up with some-“

“Nuclear deterrent! ’Cause that always calms everything right down,” Stark was having none of it and was more than eager to call Fury out on his bullshit excuses.

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?” somewhere deep down you had to admit you were enjoying watching Fury have a meltdown as he turned his full attention toward Stark. Even if the meltdown wasn’t nearly as dramatic as you hoped it would be.

“At least he was open about it,” you countered. You’ve kept up with the news, you knew Stark shut down weapon manufacturing and turned his attention elsewhere. And you respected that, but more importantly you were really pissed at Fury for making a jab at something Stark once did when Fury himself had plenty of things to own up to.

“I’m sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep-“ Rogers argued back with a hell of a low blow.

“Wait- Wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?” Stark had no intention of backing down, especially when it was clear Fury was diverting the attention away from his own bullshit.

“I’m sorry, isn’t everything?” and Rogers, like the model soldier that he was, was unknowingly doing exactly what Fury wanted.

“This wasn’t until you brought it up,” you turned away, very tempted to leave. Not just this conversation, but helicarrier in general. Loki was captured, as far as you were concerned the job was completed.

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” oh, that was rich coming from a guy most humans considered a myth and some still worshiped to this day. The same guy that less than a minute ago talked about the Earth sending a signal that it was ready for higher forms of war.

“Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?” Fury, who had clearly given up on using Stark as a decoy to take the heat, turned to Thor yet again.

Thor seemed disgusted. “You treat your champions with such mistrust,” he nearly spat.

“You’re not my champions!” Fury exclaimed, and though everyone was standing around it felt like even the slightest push might cause a fight.

“For once we agree. I am not his champion,” you actually felt a tiny bit sick for agreeing with Fury in any way.

“Are you going to argue with everyone here?” Rogers asked you and you could see his confusion over all of this. Your reaction, your anger, it confused him, and you weren’t even going to consider explaining yourself to him.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” you shrugged at this point just going along with the chaos. It was frustrating, but it also kind of felt good to let it all out.

“And you should! Let the woman talk, she has more gripes with the super spies than any of us do,” Stark took your side, and you looked at him, not quite sure how to read him just yet. “Also, hasn’t argued with me or Banner yet,” he pointed out matter-of-factly.

“I’ve still got time,” you were actually joking. So far you had no reason to argue with Stark or Banner.

“Bring it,” Stark offered you more blueberries and well, you just took another handful.

“And lose blueberry privilege? No thanks,” you popped the blueberries into your mouth and honestly considered getting a bag or two, or five, after this was over.

“Knew you were smart,” he tapped you on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Can you two focus for once or does everything have to be about you?” Rogers demanded in disbelief.

You swallowed and then let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh no, the world is ending because we ate blueberries instead of losing our minds,” you rolled your eyes and Rogers just stared at you, speechless.

But none of this was a conversation anymore, it was just a group of people yelling at one another over one thing or another. You weren’t getting anywhere like this, and chances were things wouldn’t get better anytime soon.

“You speak of control, yet you court chaos!” Thor accused Fury, and for what it was worth it, you agreed.

“It’s his M.O., isn’t it? I mean, what are we, a team? No, no, no. We’re a chemical mixture that makes chaos. We’re a time bomb,” Banner caught Fury’s attention after a while and it was like Banner’s presence in the conversation shut down any other arguments as all the attention turned to him.

“You need to step away,” Fury warned him, realizing that whatever this argument brought, it could, under no circumstance make Banner angry, or there would be consequences.

“Why shouldn’t the guy let off a little steam?” Stark asked curiously as he placed his hand on Rogers’ shoulder.

“You know damn well why! Back off!” Rogers pushed his hand away and glared at him.

“Oh, I’m starting to want you to make me,” and Stark was back at it again with Rogers. It was the clash of the opposites in every way imaginable. Red against blue, armor against whatever Rogers was wearing, and the clash of their ideals was even more apparent.

Rogers circled around Stark and glared at him. “Yeah, big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?” there was even some contempt in Rogers’ voice.

And Stark didn’t immediately glare back, he wasn’t even looking at Rogers. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist,” he only looked at Rogers by the end of the sentence.

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself,” scratch contempt, this was disdain, he looked at Stark and reached his conclusion about the man. And it wasn’t a positive one. “You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you,” and Rogers was completely sure of that.

“I think I would just cut the wire.” Stark shrugged, seeing no reason to be so dramatic if there was another way to solve the problem.

“Sacrifice play, how noble,” you scoffed, sick and tired of those ideas. Rogers already sacrificed himself once, nearly losing his life. In a way losing his life, since he woke up in an entirely different world. Yet he haven’t had enough, he was ready to do it all over again. Noble, but stupid ideal, as far as you were concerned.

“Always a way out. You were an agent, you accepted the risks,” Rogers turned to you, disappointed for whatever reason.

“Yeah, is that what I did? You know me so well, Rogers,” you mocked. There was a difference between the two of you. He chose to sacrifice himself; you were left to die an unnecessary death.

“You know, the two of you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be heroes,” he warned you and Stark, which was kind of funny to you because you certainly never even thought of yourself as a hero.

“A hero? Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle,” yeah, there was definitely something a lot deeper underneath those words, but you had neither the information nor the will to dig into it.

“Put on the suit, let’s go a few rounds,” Rogers challenged, finally saying the words that were probably on his mind since Stark chose to go after Thor and Loki on his own.

“What, super soldier serum didn’t boost your brain?” you smirked a bit, taunting Rogers for pretty much losing the argument.

“You people are so petty, and tiny,” Thor scolded you all like that would do anything.

“Yeah, this is a team,” you looked down to see if the sarcasm dripping from Banner’s voice was causing a flood.

“Agent Romanoff, would you escort Dr. Banner back to his-“ Fury began but Banner cut him off.

“Where? You rented my room!” he reminded him and you all suddenly stopped arguing, focusing entirely on Banner. He was getting angry and that was making some of you nervous.

“The cell was just-“ Fury tried to calm him down but there was no going back now.

“In case you needed to kill me, but you can’t. I know. I tried!” if the arguments didn’t stop before now they were absolutely done for as you all listened to him. “I got low. I didn’t see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out. So, I moved on, I focused on helping other people. I was good,” he lamented over the stable environment he had. “Until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk,” he turned to Natasha and despite all the anger, despite all the things she did, you still got worried. “You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?” he asked

You moved closer to Banner and reached up for your glaive, ready just in case. Natasha and Fury reached for their guns.

“Doctor Banner, put down the scepter,” Rogers told him, and Banner looked down to his left, confused and surprised to see the scepter in his hand.

Suddenly there was a beeping sound coming from one of the monitors and you looked back, seeing that the Tesseract was found. You let out a sigh of relief, it was finally over. Well, not quite because Thor still argued about where the Tesseract should be taken and Stark and Rogers were once again arguing. But then it happened, an explosion caught you all by surprise and sent you flying to the back of the lab while everyone else scattered. Stark and Rogers ended up near the entrance, Fury and Thor fell behind a table and from what you saw when the explosion happened Natasha and Banner dropped down to the equipment room.

You turned onto your back and stared at the ceiling. You were going to let them handle whatever that was on their own. Rogers was right, you weren’t a hero. You never were, and you weren’t about to start acting like one.

~X~

The explosion took her by surprise and now she was paying the price for her carelessness. A large steel pipe pinned her leg down and if it wasn’t for her super soldier serum her leg probably would have been broken. Natasha still groaned, the pain wasn’t the worst, but it was definitely there. She looked above her, toward the hole her and Banner fell through and wondered what happened to you. It was an explosion, and though it was a strong one it probably wouldn’t affect you much. She was still worried, she just couldn’t help herself, even if it truly seemed like it was too late for those sentiments.

It was kind of ironic. The last time you were on a mission together your positions were reversed, with you falling and getting hurt, only your injury could have been fatal. For her this would be a temporary annoyance some pain killers would handle. But it was dark, and she was hurt, and Banner was close to her, and she thought that you must have felt something like this back then as well. Only much worse because you were dying and she left you there.

“Romanoff!” she heard Fury’s voice over the earpiece and tried to pull her leg free. She still couldn’t do it, but she was getting there. What worried her was Banner; he didn’t seem like he was fine.

“Okay!” she replied to Fury, not even sure if she was telling the truth. Banner probably landed hard and was now in pain, which definitely wasn’t good for her. She watched him closely, noticing his eyes turning green and his face twisting in rage and desperation. “We’re okay, right?” she whispered fearfully.

Banner’s body seemed to be changing bit by bit and that sent panic through Natasha’s body as she struggled harder to pull her leg from underneath the pipe. He was groaning, clenching his fists like he was trying to suppress the Hulk, but it was all too much. Being pulled away from somewhere he felt relatively safe, pulled right back into this crisis, manipulated, and now in pain, it was a miracle he didn’t snap much sooner. But she still hoped she could calm him down. “Doctor? Bruce?” she tried to call out to him, to establish at least some slight connection between them by calling him by his name. “You gotta fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We’re gonna be okay,” she tried to assure him. “Listen to me,” she had to get him to listen.

She heard footsteps and she cursed internally. Regular agents would be torn apart if Banner transformed. “You hurt?” one of them asked her and she quickly waved them away. The further from all of this they were, the better.

“We’re gonna be okay. Right? I swear on my life I will get you out of this, you will walk away, and never ever-“ she tried her best, her voice shook from pain and fear and pure panic, and all she thought about was that she didn’t even get to try and save Clint, and that she never even tried to apologize to you for what she did. And now, with Banner about to transform there was a good chance she’d never get the chance to do either of these two things.

“Your life?” he growls, mocking her oath bitterly and she couldn’t blame him. Not after everything. Understanding him didn’t help her one bit though, not when she saw him transforming. She watched in utter horror as he grew larger, his shirt tearing as he did his best to get as far from her as possible. He did  not want to hurt her, but there was no way to keep her safe here.

The lights went out for a moment and she fearfully called out to him again. “Bruce?” some of the lights flickered back on just enough for her to see her nightmare became a reality. She was no longer looking at Bruce Banner, but rather at the Hulk. The desperation made her pull her leg out from underneath the pipe just as the Hulk looked at her. Their eyes met just for a moment, and she saw exactly what his intentions were. He was going to hurt her.

He was going to make her pay for manipulating him. For bringing him here. For being close to him in this very moment. And she ran as fast as she could, hoping to somehow escape him as he roared.

~X~

You still didn’t get up. You weren’t going to. As far as you were concerned if the helicarrier fell, then let it fall. This was probably Clint’s doing, but you weren’t eager to go after him either. You could do it for Natasha, but that felt like a rather unnecessary thing to do. Suddenly, you heard a roar, and it wasn’t human, it wasn’t even a beastly roar, it was something much, much different from either of those two and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Natasha!” you gasped, realizing that the roar came from the Hulk, and that she was beneath you with him.

It was pure instinct that drove you, caused by the good times you spent together, caused by the idea that, as angry at her as you were you didn’t want her dead. The idea of Natasha being killed by the Hulk terrified you as you burst into flames and the ribbons of fire and lightning attached themselves to your wrists. They were long, nearly ten feet long in fact, and they flowed behind you as you jumped down the hole to where Natasha fell.

You landed easily once you slowed your fall down with some fire bursting from your feet. You looked around, noticing the destruction all around you. The Hulk wrecked the place, that much was clear but there was no Natasha in sight, so hoping she was still alive, you rushed after the Hulk and listened for more roars, which were luckily happening quite often. You jumped onto the pipes and ran, hoping you would spot Natasha easier if you were a bit higher from the ground.

You heard the sound of running and went in that direction just in time to see the Hulk running through everything like it wasn’t even there. He didn’t slow down even after he ran through some steel pipes. And Natasha was right in front of him, running for her life with him coming closer and closer with every second.

You didn’t even consider staying out of this, just fleeing and making sure you were safe. You just moved. You jumped from the pipe, enhancing your speed with lightning and sent a powerful lightning strike right at the back of his head. The Hulk stopped for a moment, roaring in anger at you slowing him down. But that was just enough time to zap right past him and grab Natasha and get her off the narrow walkway and into a wider area where you could both maneuver more easily.

“Why the- Y/N why would you do that?” she gasped and leaned back against the wall. You noticed her legs were shaking.

You ignored her as the Hulk roared at you. You didn’t think, you didn’t panic, you knew if you made one mistake you’d be killed. The only way out was to try and buy enough time for someone else to jump in and help you. “Let’s see if I can actually fry your brain,” you got ready as the Hulk lunged at you.

The time seemed to slow down as you realized just how much you fucked up with this choice. What were you thinking? Putting yourself in the Hulk’s path? The truth was you didn’t think. You just knew Natasha was in danger and that was all you needed to know to act.

“NO!” Natasha cried out, but before the Hulk could reach you, or before you could even do anything, Thor flew right into the Hulk and sent him through multiple walls.

You took a few steps back, knowing full well this would have been your end if it wasn’t for Thor. You were a mutant, with highly destructive powers, but the Hulk was the Hulk, and there was no way for you to come out on top. And most importantly, this wasn’t the place where you could go all out, especially with Natasha this close to you.

“Y/N,” Natasha’s shaky voice brought you out of your thoughts and you turned to look at her, not yet sure of what would come out of this situation.

A/N: And that's the third chapter. I think I'll be done with The Avengers part of the story in the next chapter or two, depending on how much detail I put into the fight scenes. Either way I'm happy with how this story is going and thank you all for the support! Also... I need Wanda to show up already. All the good things I have planned need her to be here as well 🤣🤣🤣

Taglist: @toxicitytiger @wandaromamoff69 @womenarehotsstuff @psychickryptonitebouquet @seventeen-x @maddsdotorg @arualdcg @ilovemybabygirlmoon @redroomgraduate @canyonyodeler

Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part / Next Part

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #12

Danny Fenton never meant to end up in space, much less as part of a dysfunctional alien superhero squad led by a tree, a raccoon with PTSD, and a guy whose only qualification is that he’s listened to every 1980s mixtape ever made. But when you accidentally fly through a NASA portal powered by ectoplasm while trying to stop Technus from hijacking the International Space Station, you don’t really get much of a say in where you land. Which, in Danny’s case, was the cockpit of the Milano. Mid-flight. Mid-chase. Mid-explosion.

Rocket screamed. Gamora drew a blade. Star-Lord yelled, “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” And Danny, with his hair floating around his face in zero gravity and a half-melted Fenton Thermos in his hand, went, “Hi. Uh. I’m Danny. Do you have any snacks?”

A lot of things happened after that. For one, Rocket immediately declared Danny a “haunted science gremlin” and demanded he be dissected. Gamora stabbed him (not fatally, but like, “welcome to the crew” levels of stabbing), and Drax attempted to bond by declaring they were both hunted weapons of mass destruction. Groot tried to plant Danny in a flowerpot. Star-Lord, upon learning that Danny was from Earth and had ghost powers, decided he was now the team’s “Spooky Mascot” and handed him a Walkman, which promptly exploded when Danny touched it. Apparently, ghost boy plus alien tech equals “we now need a new comm system.” Danny fixed it in thirty minutes and Rocket reluctantly stopped trying to murder him in his sleep.

The team wasn’t sure if Danny was a ghost or an alien or some weird human mutant until he started phasing through walls and talking to the disembodied soul of a long-dead Xandarian war general haunting their fridge. (Her name was Bev. Danny and Bev played intergalactic chess on Thursdays.) Once the Guardians realized Danny could punch the soul out of people (and then slam-dunk it back in), they promoted him from “weird hitchhiker” to “full member with explosive privileges.” This was a mistake.

Danny was a space nerd, sure. He watched every space documentary, built model rockets, and could name the moons of Jupiter backwards. But what the documentaries didn’t prepare him for was being shot at by a gang of space pirates because Groot accidentally won a planet in a poker game, or Rocket creating a neutron grenade disguised as a cookie (“Don’t eat it, Danny—DANNY THAT’S NOT A REAL COOKIE”), or Star-Lord insisting they stop at an interstellar karaoke bar in the middle of a war. Danny had to fight off a swarm of brain-sucking parasites while singing “Eye of the Tiger” in full ghost mode. He got a standing ovation.

Things got worse when Technus came back, this time infecting Nova Corps servers and announcing himself as “God of Wi-Fi.” Danny had to team up with Rocket, who uploaded himself into a blender for reasons no one fully understood, to create an anti-ghost firewall using a toaster, Gamora’s sword, and Groot’s root clippings. The good news? It worked. The bad news? They accidentally opened a portal to the Ghost Zone mid-fight, unleashing the Box Ghost into the Nova HQ. The Box Ghost was immediately arrested and sent to space prison, where he became king of the vending machines.

Danny tried to explain Earth things to the Guardians. Like taxes. And Target. And what a cow was. Drax was horrified. “You allow milk beasts to rule your society?” Star-Lord cried when he learned Blockbuster was dead. Gamora tried to understand TikTok and ended up nearly assassinating a diplomat during a trend called “smash or pass.” Danny didn’t help by going ghost mid-video and screaming “pass” at the ambassador. They were banned from that planet forever.

But despite the chaos, Danny kind of… fit. He’d never felt truly understood on Earth, where being half-dead meant constant fear of being dissected by the government, but out here? Out here, people didn’t blink when he turned into a glowing, green-eyed wraith who could fly through spaceships and scream in an eldritch tongue. If anything, they applauded. One particularly wild night, Danny exorcised a Kree emperor’s cursed hover-throne live on intergalactic television. Ratings spiked. He was declared a demigod in three sectors. Star-Lord tried to get merchandising rights. Rocket tried to sell his ectoplasm as a weapon. Danny put them both in the Ghost Zone timeout corner.

They kept running into other people. Thor once landed on their ship looking for a beer and a nap, only to get into a flexing contest with Danny. Danny won. Barely. Thor still calls him “the glowing child of sorrow.” Tony Stark tried to recruit Danny for the Avengers. Danny politely declined by phasing through his hologram and turning it into a haunted Tamagotchi. Doctor Strange asked Danny to stop creating micro-rifts in the astral plane every time he hiccuped. Danny said he’d consider it.

The Guardians eventually got wind of a plot involving the Collector trying to obtain Danny’s core to power a ghost-zombie version of Knowhere. Naturally, they handled this in the most reasonable way possible: by launching a full-scale assault while disguised as a musical theater troupe. Danny, dressed as Phantom of the Opera, used his wail to destroy an army of spectral cyborgs, then accidentally set the Collector’s hair on fire. Gamora tackled him out a window. Rocket declared it a success.

Danny missed Earth sometimes. Jazz would call through the interstellar line to check in, often while holding a frying pan and yelling at someone in the background (“NO, TUCKER, YOU CAN’T ORDER CHICK-FIL-A TO SPACE”). Sam once left him a thirty-minute voicemail about ghost gentrification and the ethics of ghost labor unions. But even with all that, Danny knew he wasn’t the same kid from Amity Park. He’d been to star systems no human had seen, danced with sentient nebulae, and accidentally became betrothed to an alien princess after sneezing in her direction. He had battle scars and space memes and an intergalactic criminal record that included the phrase “unauthorized spectral possession of a judge.”

Rocket taught Danny how to rig a ship to explode using only shoelaces and spite. Groot taught him how to grow little plant buddies that helped him cook. Drax taught him the art of standing dramatically in silence, which Danny now did every time someone asked him about his tragic backstory. Star-Lord taught him how to moonwalk in zero gravity. Danny taught them all how to scream “GET BENT, YOU INTERDIMENSIONAL TWERPS” in ghost language, which they used during diplomatic missions. They were banned from another planet.

There were close calls. Danny once got trapped in a black hole and had to phase out by screaming every bad memory he’d ever had at once. He and Rocket were fused for a full day after a teleportation mishap—Danny’s ghost tail merged with Rocket’s back leg, and they had to fight like that. Gamora walked in on Danny watching High School Musical and refused to speak to him for a week. Star-Lord caught Danny crying while watching old Earth footage and tried to cheer him up with mixtapes titled “Sad Boi Vibes Vol. 1-9.”

But for all the wild, unhinged nonsense, Danny had a place. He’d spent so long being hunted, misunderstood, called a freak. But here, with this chaos crew of space weirdos and traumatized murder-huggers, he wasn’t just accepted. He was wanted. He was the team’s go-to for ghost stuff, space stuff, sarcasm, and emotional trauma suppression. He became a Guardian of the Galaxy not because he asked to be—but because he fought a black hole, exorcised a death god, and beat Star-Lord in a dance-off to “Take On Me.”

And when Earth eventually called—when the Avengers requested help with some “small ghost invasion” (Box Ghost had escaped space prison again)—Danny arrived with the Guardians, blazing through the sky like a neon comet. He kicked open a portal, yelled “SUP SLUTS,” and unleashed Groot, Drax, and an emotionally unstable raccoon with a bazooka onto New York.

Nick Fury sighed.

Tony screamed, “Why is there a tree in my penthouse?”

Danny just smiled, green eyes glowing, and said, “I brought friends.”

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Heroes To Villains

DILF Yandere Superheroes x Gender Neutral Superhero Reader CW: Noncon, imprisonment, minor violence, gratuitous amount of firearms, super powers, super soldiers, spitroasting, general yandere behavior, bratty reader Word Count: 3.8k (I am sorry this took a bit for me to get to, only took a few hours to write though. I hope you guys love it. Feel free to tip if you do~)

The city you were stationed in was under attack by some fairly destructive super villains. They were either traitors born of the same government program that had produced you and the other super soldiers you worked with or they were sent by another country to attack the retired super agents of your country. Though it was also possible they were a rogue foreigner with a vendetta. All the people making up your squad had been in the military and had made significant enemies.

Their goals did not really matter so much at the moment. It was more important that they were defeated before they caused any casualties.

There were two of them. One of them with an ability to lash out with streams of fire and smoke and another that could jump up really fast and high before slamming down and causing a large explosion on impact.

They were no match for you and your comrades. Red and Ace had handled much worse threats than these two with ease. Ace had been a top pilot before undergoing medical experimentation that left him with angel-like wings and the ability to shoot energy blasts from his hands. The man was like a living B-52. And Red was basically a human tank. Very little could so much as scratch his skin and he had tremendous physical strength.

Both of them had soared through the ranks and had distinguished themselves as competent generals in the last great war. Now they were retired and used their abilities as super soldiers to become heroes and protect the capital from the strange threats that had been unleashed during war time. Mostly the occasional villain. Sometimes a mutant animal.

You had just been a simple medic. Nothing too fancy, but you had hesitantly taken the opportunity to go through experiments that would allow you to heal others much more effectively and without the need for invasive surgery. Most of the super soldiers gained a unique ability and also became more resilient to damage and agile.

And you had gotten those perks too, but not to the degree as everyone else. Though you had gotten an extra ability that most people lacked. Hyper accurate aim with long distance weapons. But you also suffered a drawback when compared to your peers. You got exhausted easily, having very little stamina.

Who could forget the time you had saved the city by firing the railroad gun at the giant robot that used mutated biological components in its construction? Firing a 19,000 pound shell and obliterating an entire giant robot with one perfectly executed shot had been amazing.

You longed for that kind of usefulness again. But currently you were a bit bored, as a long range support unit you frequently hung back a bit. Red and Ace normally cleared everything up themselves without having need of your abilities.

Ace had plucked the hopper from the sky and injected him with a serum that would knock him out cold until he could be taken into custody where his abilities would be removed completely, if they could be. Red had similarly taken out the fire user who had discovered that his searing flames did little more than make Red sweat a bit.

They regrouped together before they started walking back to you, each carrying the limp weight of an unconscious enemy on their shoulders. It would be a few minutes before they got to the rendezvous.

You heard the gruff voice of Red on your comm line.

“We got em’ On our way back now.”

“Affirma-”

You were cut off by a sudden shift underground followed by a woman jumping up from the earth below you and punching you hard enough to launch you several feet.

There had been a third and they had split up to take you on individually.

As you fell through the air you took out your side arm and fired every round in rapid succession. Each one aimed for her heart. Each one hit their mark. But when you hit the ground you had smacked your head pretty hard and the world faded to black.

You woke up in a medical bed in the basement of your headquarters. You were quite dizzy and you felt like you were certainly going to vomit.

You held your hands to your head and your palms flashed.

Much better. If you hadn’t been knocked out you would have simply been able to heal whatever injuries you had sustained in a flash. Oh well you were better now.

Ace walked in to check on you right as you had been getting up. He burst into a smile at seeing you awake. His blue eyes full of joy.

“Hey runt! Glad to see that you’re getting up and about!”

“Who’s a runt!?”

He flexed his biceps to drive the point in.

“Red, get in here, The runt is up!”

You heard his loud steps reverberate upstairs as he bounded towards the basement door and came rushing down.

“It’s been five days, we were beginning to really worry about you, squirt.”

He was smiling but you could tell his red eyes held a lot of concern in them. It seemed like there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how.

“Well, no need to worry. I am not as fragile as a regular person. And I am fully healed now.”

“Yeah… but you weren’t hit by a normal person. And you aren’t as durable as most of us…”

That was Ace.

“Yeah, yeah, I will be more careful, okay? I know my limits. I don’t need a lecture. I took the enemy down and I am okay now so we don’t need to linger on it.”

Ace put his hand to his face and his wings quivered in annoyance as they often do when he tries to lecture you and you just won’t have it.

You rolled your eyes and finally Red spoke up.

“This isn’t the first time you have gotten hurt on the field. Even with precautions like staying back you still end up injured!”

“What’s your point? It's a battle, injuries happen. At least I can heal.”

Ugh, an Ace lecture you were used to. You didn’t need both of them nagging at you.

You rolled your eyes as Red continued.

“Have you ever considered… going into another career? You volunteer at the hospital… maybe you could do that full time?”

That did it.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t in any command position, but I was a trained soldier all the same! I think I can handle myself!”

You stormed away from them and went up the stairs, slamming the door behind you. Assholes. Who were they to tell you what you should consider doing? It was your life and if you wanted to use it fighting genetically enhanced monsters and super-criminals then that was your right to do so.

It would become evident in the future that this incident was where everything started to go wrong. Going forward in battle they always had at least one of them at your side whenever it was physically possible for them to do so.

When you were eventually still injured even with that precaution, even though it was minor, they pressured you again to quit being a hero. They thought maybe you just were too attached to them to leave so they even suggested that you could still be their medic but you would stay on at the base. You could even still operate the railroad rifle that could fire shells from miles away whenever a large foe approached the city.

But you wouldn’t have it. Fuck them. You told them that if you had to form a new squad in a new city then you would do so.

They frantically apologized immediately so they let it go.

It was unfathomable that they would ever allow you to do such a thing. Go off where they couldn’t protect you even a little? Where some inexperienced whelp of a leader would surely get you killed? Not a chance!

But neither could they allow you to remain a front line combatant. Not after the injuries and not with how easily you became fatigued when exerting yourself.

The solution was ugly, but it was what it was. You left them no other option for your own safety.

Though it would make them criminals themselves they had to do it for your own good. They had to keep you here with them where you would be safe and secure. They could turn the base’s AI defenses to keep you here and make sure that you were safe. They could also have it alert them through their comms if you there was any trouble while they were on a mission.

You were laying on your bed with your hands behind your head. You stared at your ceiling and contemplated all that you had been through. The war, seeing comrades on the battlefield ripped apart with no way to save them as they bled out in agony. You had to protect people from that in every way that you could, and if you did die on the battlefield then that was fine by you.

The intrusion of Red and Ace barging into your room out of nowhere pulled you from your thoughts and you regarded them both with a scowl.

“What NOW!? Can’t you guys at least knock? I mean seriousl-”

Ace cut you off with a hand gesture for silence before Red spoke up.

“Listen squirt… we decided something. We can’t allow you to join us on the field anymore…”

“Didn’t you just apologize for saying that after I threatened to leave? Whatever, I am out of here!”

You hopped up to gather your belongings and set out at once, the mere sight of the two heroes making you want to go on a rampage, but Red pushed you back onto the bed, then Ace picked up where Red had left off.

“Well that’s not all, runt. We also decided… you can’t leave here either…”

You started laughing. It had to be some kind of joke. But the tension that filled the room told you otherwise. You looked from Red to Ace and the empty expression from Ace and the guilty one from Red told you that they were deadly serious.

You grabbed your sidearm and launched yourself at Ace, you weaved past Red and twirled yo get behind Ace and held your arm around his neck with your gun aimed at his head. You didn’t speak a word, your intention clear.

There was no way you would be kept here.

You couldn’t go for Red as small arms fire would bounce off of him, but at point blank range Ace was toast. You backed out of the room, pulling Ace along with you. He cooperated fully. Even a pair of overprotective psychos didn’t want their brains blown out.

Out of nowhere a robotic arm emerged from one of the sockets in the walls. It seized your gun and then Ace flipped your positions with him behind you.

They had reprogrammed the defenses of the base to not allow you to have a weapon. These two were not former generals for nothing. They knew how their adversary, you, would react.

You slammed your foot down on Ace’s and smacked your head behind him to hit his nose. Such weak attacks did nothing to dislodge you from his ironclad grasp.

“Stop this childish behavior and just accept things. This is for your own good. If anything this little outburst has proven that you need to be protected because you certainly cannot control your emotions!”

Red was in front of you, still looking at you with that guilty expression.

“I’ll go get your weapons from your room.”

Ace and you watched in the doorway as Red got a sack and rummaged through every single inch of your private space to look for what was now contraband.

“Come on! If you are going to keep me here at least don’t go invading my privacy like this!”

Much to your embarrassment you actually cried a bit as the large man went through all your things.

He started by removing your pistols from your weapon’s display case. Your Beretta M9, your SIG Sauer P320, you… dear god no… not your baby, not your Magnum Research BFR!

You thrashed more as you saw him take that one.

Then he moved on to your bookshelf. He took out your religious text from the shelf.

“Hey, keep your grubby mitts off of that! It’s sacred!”

“Yeah, Red, don’t you think you should focus o-”

He opened it revealing that it had been cut out and housed one of your many sidearms.

“Of course,” Ace said flatly.

When Red finished with all your pistols he moved on to the ones mounted on your wall. Your Mauser M 98, your Browning BLR, and your little Marlin 70PSS.

The rest of the search was much the same. All but one had been found. Red had to get a second bag for them all. The ones in your desk, under your bed, and the one in your mattress.

Well at least they hadn’t found your most precious gun-child…

“Okay I think I got them all. Nowhere else to search. Be truthful, did I miss any?”

You wiped the tears out of your eyes and lied convincingly. You tried to look as defeated as you could.

“No”

Ace moved the two of you out of the way so Red could take your weaponry to the armory. As he started to leave the room he noticed his footsteps sounded odd in one place.

He pressed his large foot down in the spot a few times, narrowing his eyes.

Fuck.

He bent down and realized he could remove the floor board under the rug in that spot.

He found it, the bag unzipped and your M1 Garand joined the rest of your firearms.

“NOOOO!!! That one is my favorite! It PINGS when you use it!”

Now you were truly defeated, they had gotten every single one of them…

“Holy fuck, how many did you need??”

Ace joined in.

“Yeah that’s all a bit… much…”

“If your only offensive power came from guns then you would make sure to have one near you at all times in case of infiltration or emergencies…”

Ace sighed and let you return to your bed in peace. Or what peace could be had in your glorified prison.

Later in the evening they knocked on your door.

“Hey, we made your favorite food for dinner! And made your favorite dessert too…”

That was Red, you could hear the nervousness in his voice. He knew you would hate him now. You ignored them.

“Come on, don't be like this, you have to eat!”

And that was Ace, insisting that not complying with his psychopathic behavior was childish.

You opened the door and took the food tray. Both of them smiled.

“There, see? We can all still get along. We worked very hard on that meal for you!”

You were sure that they had, they were both skilled cooks. You stared at them expressionless and slammed the tray into their faces before slamming the door.

Ace looked furious but Red held him back.

“Come on Ace… they just need to adjust…”

But you refused to adjust. You ate only when they were out of the house. As the days went by you didn’t speak a single solitary word to either of them, you may as well have been a ghost.

Well… it would have been. Had you not been doing your best to make them the two most miserable men on the planet. You destroyed all the toilet paper, clogging every toilet in the base with it, you destroyed the fridge twice, you broke the TV, tore the couch, the robotic arms stopped you, of course, but you could manage to do a bit of damage each time before it stopped you.

Even Red was getting annoyed with your behavior.

They had both tried everything to get you to behave. Punishments ranging from not eating anything but flavorless oatmeal for days to being forced to sleep in a bed with one of them so they could make sure you didn’t cause any destruction while they slept.

Finally they had had enough, things could not continue on like this and it seemed like you may never open your eyes and see that they were just trying to keep you safe. Without them you’d have ran right into the jaws of danger.

They discussed it among themselves and had one more idea. You needed to feel loved in every possible way. They loved you so much after all, that’s what all this had been about, to protect you because they cared for you. But clearly they needed to step things up a notch or ten.

When they came home that day they barged into your room and grabbed you, taking you kicking and screaming into one of the many spare rooms the base had.

They had outfitted it with a huge bed, the walls painted your favorite color, fresh roses filled a heart shaped vase on the nightstand.

“Let go of me! What did you drag me here just to give me a newer bigger room? A prison is still a prison…”

“It’s going to be…” Red started.

“Our love… nest…” Ace finished, blush evident on his face.

“No thanks. Fucking weirdos.”

“Come on, sex is known to alleviate one’s mood!”

“Yeah, just give it a chance”

Ace smashed his lips into yours and kissed you deeply, you looked at him stunned.

They were serious… You wanted to wretch… Fervently you struggled, trying to get out of Red’s grip but he handed you off to Ace who wrapped his wing around you and led you to the bed.

They took your clothing off before moving on to your own. All of you had scars due to combat and training, and you had seen them nude in the showers before, but this was different. For the first time you felt vulnerable and scared under their combined gaze.

You covered your genitals but they each removed and held one arm so they could appreciate the view. “Come on, don’t be like that. Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Ace whispered as he spread your legs apart.

“Red, did you bring the lube?”

“Yeah, right here.”

Red opened a bottle and lathered both of their growing cocks so that they were drenched with the stuff and then pressed some to your hole and massaged it in. They had no intention of letting this be a painful experience for you. They wanted to show how much they cared about you.

You tried to clench. To close yourself off from them. But the probing fingers would not be denied. You squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation of cold lube being worked into you.

“Try to relax, it will be much better if you embrace us.”

“FUCK YO-”

Red cut you off with a kiss. You tried to bite his tongue but his tongue was no more vulnerable than the rest of his body.

Two sets of hand roamed and pet, and groped your body. Gently caressing you as Red made out with you. When they felt as if they had explored every part of your body they flipped you on to your belly, with Red on his knees in front of you. His crotch level with your face.

Ace was behind you on his knees between your legs, holding them still as he wedged himself closer to your entrance, until the tip of his cock was kissing it.

You couldn’t kick because he had control of your legs. You couldn’t punch because Red had your arms pinned. Now they just had to plug your bratty mouth and you wouldn’t have any means of protest. Verbal or otherwise.

They knew you’d try to bite so Red took your mouth, claiming it with his cock. You tried to move and turn away but once Ace sank his cock into your sensitive depths you gasped in surprise so Red took the chance to put his cock in your soft mouth. He did not go in balls deep, neither of them had yet. They wanted you to enjoy it. To relax. Not worry about being hurt or gagged.

Red humped into your mouth carefully and slowly while Ace did the same behind you.

“Damn, for someone so opposed to it you fit me so well.”

Then Ace added, “Your mouth feels amazing babe. He used his thumb to draw lazy circles into your arms where he held them down. He sighed in pleasure when he felt the pleasured moans Ace was coaxing out of you. Much to your dismay.

But you couldn’t deny that it felt nice. Your body relaxed, just a bit, as the men slowly bred a bit of the stress you had been under out of it.

Now that it seemed that you were enjoying yourself, even though reluctantly, Ace decided he could speed up just a bit, rolling his hips as his cock dug further into you.

Red was going a bit faster too now that you had acclimated and stopped trying to resist so hard. He let your arms go, sure that you had finally realized how silly fighting was. The large man stroked your cheek as he continued thrusting into those sweet lips.

Ace was the first to cum, his wings outstretching fully and deep voice gasping as his large nuts filled you with wave after wave of his seed. His large cock twitched inside of you, pushing you over the edge and into your own orgasm.

Feeling all your muffled cries of pleasure right in his prick caused Red to start cumming. He pulled out, not wanting to choke you on his copious amount of semen that he knew all super soldiers produced in spades, instead cumming all over your face.

Ace pulled out of you and was the first to speak.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You didn’t respond, you were still panting from the workout you had just received. You didn’t protest when Ace pulled you into his lap and held you with your head nestled into his chest. Your head laying right on his hawk tattoo. You didn’t protest when red scooted beside him and kissed you tenderly on the forehead. You even let them clean you up and feed you your favorite meal that they diligently cooked for you while you waited politely on the couch. They figured your resistance to them before was just because you had needs that weren’t getting met.

And from that day forward they knew that anytime you got too snarky or rebellious all they had to do was make time to fuck the brattiness out of you.

[yakichoufd]

I got that issue thinking I would have a fun read and it was interesting but so disappointing too. There will be a of lof of spoilers here, so don't read my post if you want to enjoy that story first. It will also become an illustrated "fanfiction" cause I had to draw few things haha! I liked that Scott and Alex's parents survived their plane crash and both boys could have a normal childhood. The story is from Alex's point of view which is quite interesting. He barely remembers the plane accident, but Scott does (even if he never talks about it, but him remembering that event is important). Alex doesn't really know where he belongs since his big brother is "great at everything". Scott is great at school, sport, he has friends, he cares for his baby brother etc... and Alex feels like he is living in his brother's shadow. Then Scott get his mutation and get a personnality switch. Even if he controls his beams, he still freaks out and panics most of the time (which is fair, his power is very destructive after all). Then the story takes a direction I did not enjoy, so I won't talk about it. I will just explain what I would have liked to read instead. I would have loved for the two brothers to bond over what Scott was dealing with. For once Alex's big brother needed help and support. Alex could have been there for his so "perfect" big brother. It could have reversed their roles and boost Alex's confidence. It could have create a deep relationship between the two brothers.

Scott is traumatised by the plane accident. He has a nightmare seeing aliens looking after them when their plane hit the ground. It is during that nightmare that Scott's power manifests. Maybe him freaking out about his powerful mutation is linked to that traumatic event. Maybe he is scared of destruction since their plane got hit by alien's weapons? Maybe he thinks the aliens did this to him? I don't know but he is a very scared kid who is cclearly afraid of that attack. Scott could have talk about that to his parents. They are very supportive and caring. That story could have grown their family bond stronger. Plus both brothers have a destructive mutation, that could have made them closer than ever. Continuing with that alternative universe. Xavier gives up on Scott a bit too fast (which makes little sense imo) but I would have find it interesting that a less awkward Scott meet Warren, Hank, Bobby and Jean. He could have joined the mansion still as a lost teenager but his social understanding would have been so much better.

I do not think he would have fall for Jean like he did in the comics. Maybe he would never have fall for her since he was popular back home. I think comic Scott always fell for Jean because she was so perfect and he was a lost kid who had nothing but a lot of love to give. Or he could fall for her once he is more mature. I love that HC that Scott is a bisexual bean, so he could have had a boyfriend back home. Bobby could have understand himself a bit faster seeing Scott with another boy.

Scott being in a loving family he would be at ease with his sexuality and he and his family's popularity in town made everyone accepting everything easily. However Scott still being afraid about his mutation, he wouldn't have tell anyone why he went to Xavier's mansion. Whcih would confure his mutant friends a lot. Scott could still have trouble with accepting who he is and how his loved ones see him which will be his personnal dilemma.

(Todd is the OC boyfriend haha) Warren and Scott could have been close friends and maybe more. Angel is a very caring character too and he would have understand Scott's scasred mind. I think Scott could still have being brainswhased to become a child soldier (which would terrified his parents) but it would have helped Scott to accept his power. He could still become an amazing field leader but I do not think he would have stayed under Xavier's manipulation long. He would have take his own path eventually. He has the confidence and his years with the X-men would have created his network. I think that AU has a lot of potential and it didn't need to become over dramatic as the original issue did. Siniter could have shown up later or not at all. I do not think he needs to be present in Scott's life in every universe. Being a mutant is already hard as it is, you can always find dama around that if you want a dramaticc story.

[wolvertooth]

(Weapons of Mutant Destruction: Alpha)

why’d u mention sabretooth twice huh. why do u wanna hangout with him so badly huh.

like he isnt even part of the question?? logans just like ‘i need to be on sabretooths team ok. no its not weird.’ nobody said anything man🤨

[uglypastels]

can you do a mutant fem reader x logan but her powers are like bens from the umbrella academy and but readers like shy/kind kinda crybaby personality <333

a short but sweet blurb <3

warnings: struggles with powers. over-exhaustion

~ X-Men requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

Missions were not exactly a school trip, you were very well aware of that, but you had expected them to go a bit better. To get some kind of enjoyment or satisfaction out of them. Instead, the sheer thought of having to go to battle made you sick. At least when it involves your abilities. 

Hand-to-hand combat you were alright with. You had, after all, trained for years to be able to disarm any prick with a silly little gun that would come at you. And your skills with a blade weren’t too bad either, but when things turned for the worst and the situation called for your powers, you’d rather sink into the ground.

And it was not all because of the physical discomfort that the tentacles brought. After enough experiences you had gotten used to the quite literal gut-wrenching and pulling that came with it. It was the fact you had no way of controlling them once they appeared. It always took such immense physical and mental strain to direct them, not to mention retract them again, that it took days for you to get back to normal.

You could usually tell when it would be a particularly bad case. Like right now, as you screamed with all your might, trying to push the monster inside you back where it belonged. The scream could have been enough to daze most of your enemies, and so you were sure that after some rest, the others would want you to pursue some training in that department to see what kind of damage you could do with your voice. Since that’s all you were good for— a weapon of destruction.

The scream kept on going until you couldn’t take it any further. There was the familiar release in your abdomen; everything around you fell to silence as you fell to your knees. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you, and at the contact, you could not help but wince.

‘Shh, it’s alright, I got you.’ It was Logan. With an ease that never failed to impress you, he picked you up in his arms. He could feel you shaking, and you were unable to keep your eyes open for longer than a few seconds at a time. Just like he had thought, the effects of using your powers so extensively were taking a toll on you. That much was clear, but no one ever listened to him.

‘Stay with me, sweetheart.’ He wiped some of your hair from your face. ‘You’re save now.’

‘Logan?’ your voice came out so weak it nearly made his own legs buckle. 

‘I’m right here.’ He spoke softly, letting his lips hover over your face so you could not only hear his heartfelt words, but also feel them as his breath tickled your burning cheeks. ‘Let’s get you home, hmm.’

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[maybe-im-dark]

Wolverine Wasn't Born to Be a weapon—He Was Born to Be a Protector

Here's Why:

Let’s get one thing straight: Wolverine (Logan) wasn’t born to be a weapon. He was forged into one. But at his core, Logan has always been about protecting those he loves, not just fighting for the sake of violence. And the X-Men movies prove it time and time again. Let me break it down:

1. His Origins Aren’t About Violence—They’re About Survival and Protection

In X-Men Origins: Wolverine, we see young James Howlett (Logan) forced to defend himself after witnessing the death of his father. His claws first emerge out of sheer survival instinct, not out of a desire to harm. Even as a child, Logan’s instinct was to protect—first himself, and later, others.

2. His Connection to Rogue in X-Men (2000)

When we first meet Logan in X-Men (2000), he’s a loner, but everything changes when he meets Rogue. Despite his rough exterior, he immediately takes on a protective role, shielding her from harm and even putting his own life at risk for her. This isn’t a man who craves violence—this is someone who cares deeply for the vulnerable and will do anything to keep them safe.

3. The Battle of Alcatraz in X-Men: The Last Stand (2006)

During the Battle of Alcatraz, Logan doesn’t charge into the fight because he loves war—he does it because it’s the only way to protect his friends, especially Jean Grey. Even when Jean is consumed by the Dark Phoenix and is destroying everything around her, Logan is the one who pushes through, not to fight, but to save her from herself. His final act, putting her down, is one of mercy, driven by love, not violence.

4. The Wolverine (2013) Shows His Struggle With the Weapon He’s Become

In The Wolverine, Logan’s struggle with the violence he’s capable of is laid bare. He isolates himself because he’s haunted by the destruction he’s caused. When he’s dragged back into conflict, it’s not because he wants to fight—it’s because he can’t stand by while innocents are in danger. His time in Japan shows that his true nature is to protect, even if it means facing his demons

5. The Ultimate Protector in Logan (2017)

Logan (2017) is the ultimate testament to Wolverine’s true nature. The entire movie is about him protecting Laura (X-23) and the other young mutants, even when he’s physically and emotionally broken. Logan’s final stand isn’t about being the best soldier—it's about being the best protector. He sacrifices everything, not because he wants to die in battle, but because he wants to ensure the future of those who can’t protect themselves.

6. It’s Always Been About Love and Loyalty

Whether it’s his love for Jean, his loyalty to Professor X, or his protective instincts toward Rogue and Laura, Logan’s motivation has always been rooted in love, not in a thirst for violence. He’s fought in countless wars, been used and abused by countless people, but the one thing that remains constant is his unwillingness to let harm come to those he cares about.

[pictureviewer-universe]

some great ideas for how to develop a nice relationship with the police when you are beginning a superhero career as a vigilante and how much you want to develop it

#010 Law Enforcement

If you’re going to be saving the world from total annihilation every couple of weeks (or every couple of days… or every couple of minutes I don’t know what things are like where you live), it stands to reason that you’re eventually going to cross paths with local law enforcement. As a rule of thumb it’s important to be respectful of policemen or policewomen as they are legally doing what you are illegally doing. Seriously, why don’t you just become a cop. Do you think your parents are proud of you for this? Their adult child running around in spandex fighting sewer mutants?

Unless you manage to get some pro-superhero legislature on the books (which if you have the time, patience and money to lobby for, be my guest) you’re going to be operating as an illegal vigilante. Being able to breath fire or outrun a train doesn’t change that fact. That’s right, technically speaking you’re the criminal. Bet you didn’t see that coming bucko. Therefore, at least when you start out, the cops will probably try to hunt you down. They’ll probably even set up a taskforce specifically to hunt you down, which, while flattering, is also super annoying. They’ll even try to arrest you after you’ve just stopped a crime! Like oh my god man I just did your job for you and you still get paid you should be thanking me not reading me my Miranda Rights. So, to avoid being arrested when the police come to arrest your criminal adversary I suggest running away really fast from the crime scene once you’ve foiled the convenience store robbery, or the occult ritual to resurrect the dead, or whatevers.

If the police department as a whole hasn’t warmed up to you then you need to find someone on the force who has. A diligent straight-shooting cop who believes in your crusade against crime. But, not like, so straight-shooting that they’ll immediately arrest you or report your attempts to recruit them to their superior because again, legally speaking, you’re a serial criminal. A contact within the police force is invaluable as they can provide you with leads and intelligence and they can run interference with official investigations into you and your secret identity. They can also give you a heads up when they get word that a crime is going down. Just try to make sure you don’t get yourself a cop informant who’s super preachy and keeps trying to convince you to “go legit” or “join the force” or “stop parading around town in a stupid costume because you’d look sooo much better in police blues.” Oh my god who asked you, what are you the fashion police? This costume makes my eyes pop and if I have to be an illegal vigilante to wear it then SO BE IT (chill.) Right, anyway… It probably wouldn’t hurt to get your hands on a police scanner too, this way you know where everybody is, where you’re needed most and how to best avoid those two cops who you don’t like because they keep making fun of your ability to turn into a giant hamster. Like they don’t even have any superpowers so why are they so obnoxious. On that note, if you happen to have super hearing or the power to hijack radio signals with your brain, you can just act as your own police scanner so you’ve just saved yourself some money, congratulations. 

Look, I get it. Being hunted by both the law and the plethora of super criminals who will no doubt flood into your city thanks to the legal crackdown on superheroes is a massive bummer. But just think of what a wonderful and grand thing it will surely be when the police finally calm down, realize that having a super powered person stopping crimes is a good thing, and decide to accept you with open arms. Once you make a name for yourself, probably by fighting off an alien invasion or preventing the world from imploding, you might finally be accepted by the establishment and hailed and respected as the hero you truly see yourself as. When that happens they’ll probably throw you a parade or erect a statue in your honor. So that’ll be neat, that’s definitely something to look forward to. Plus, being official public partners with the cops has tons of sweet perks. Imagine how glorious you’ll look riding on top of a police car, sirens blaring, surrounded by other siren-blaring cars as you all race to foil the biggest bank heist of the century. Who among us hasn’t wanted to police car surf their way to a crime scene. None among us. That’s who. Anybody who says they haven’t thought about it is either a liar or has no imagination. Also maybe they’ll help you get out of parking tickets. If you’re one of those superheroes who still has to drive a car.

You’re going to want to avoid getting too publicly (k, real talk for a second does anybody else keep trying to spell publicly, “publically” only for that garbage to be redlined because you’re an idiot and that’s not how anything is spelled or is it just me?) chummy with any specific police officers though. Because then you run the risk of that cop being individually targeted by your enemies and really the only reason you’re wearing the diggity dang mask and using a goofy name (I’m looking at you Professor!) is to prevent that kind of thing from happening! That’s the whole thing! Don’t make good friends in your superhero identity! In general though, even once accepted you should keep official law enforcement agencies at arm’s length. Occasionally in your battle against the criminal scum of the Earth you’re forced to do things that aren’t entirely legal. Did you know you can’t just break into evil lairs and beat up criminals without a warrant? And that you have to hand all evidence over to the court and you can’t just take evil weapons of mass destruction and keep them in a well-lit trophy case in your hideout? Well you can’t, superheroes break laws like that all the time. So if you’re seen as or you actually become an official law enforcement agent, things like that can get real tricky real fast.

[bucketslutz]

Don't Be Late (Professor Logan Howlett/Fem Student Mutant Reader)

A/N: This one's a doozy, don't know how I feel about most of Logan's dialogue in this one but oh well! Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Awkwardness ensues when you arrive at Logan's class on Friday, finding no one there but him.

Warnings: 18+, mindors DNI!!!!, drinking, reader getting drunk, puking, swearing, light depiction of anxiety disorder, sexual harassment (nothing bad happens to reader, light harassment only)

Word Count: 4,712

Chapter 3

This is the fourth night this week you’ve masturbated to the thought of your professor. Unfortunately, your fingers don’t offer the same release that you’ve been seeking from Logan. Instead of relieving the pressure that spreads through your body, your orgasms leave you dissatisfied and in need of more relief. But you can’t. He’s your professor, and downright terrifying to speak to. He makes every hair on your body stand on end, like your body is in a constant state of flight or fuck. Plus, you’re pretty sure he hates you. He stares at you, makes rude remarks, and barely even pays you any mind. But, goddamnit, sometimes you swear his lips curl into somewhat of a smile when he sees you. And you haven’t seen him smile at much of anything. But you cannot misconstrue tolerance with infatuation. He just might hate you less than everyone else, which could be enough for you to get through the semester without anymore anxiety than you already have.

You turn over in bed with a huff and glare at the clock. 2:14 am. If only you spent as much time studying as you did masturbating, maybe you’d get your masters a year earlier. You almost fear going to sleep. Afraid that another dream will leave you hot and bothered in Logan’s class tomorrow, and you don’t like that he has that effect on you. You repeat a mantra as you doze off, I do not want to fuck Logan Howlett.

…

It’s been a good morning. You woke up, no explicit wet dream, with enough time to manifest a Colombian dark roast and one of the best breakfasts you’ve had in a while; which you enjoyed while watching the sunrise from your roof. For a brief moment, you considered flying to class. The weather was perfect, making you long for a place you could traverse the sky in peace without a worry of who might see you. You often find yourself dreaming of such a life. How freeing would it be to fly around the world, helping people in need, exploring areas unknown? As much as you daydream of this life, you still know deep down that your dream can never become a reality. No, every day you hear of someone else being killed just because they’re a mutant. Or others disappearing off the streets and thrown into secret government labs where they conduct god knows what kinds of tests on them. That’s not a reality you ever want to face. You don’t want to think about how the government might exploit your powers. The thought of them abusing the atomic structures you manifest to create weapons of mass destruction makes you sick. No matter how desperately you wish you could display your strengths for good, you can’t. And that breaks your heart.

Despite the unfortunate stifling of your powers, your morning still ends up going just as well as it started. You’ve timed your commute perfectly; slipping into your favorite parking spot with just enough time to walk to class, Colombian dark roast in hand. You open the door to Logan’s class, quickly stopping dead in your tracks once you see that not a single one of your classmates are here yet. You check the time on your phone, there’s only 3 minutes until class starts.

“I was beginning to think it was something I said,” Logan’s voice calls from the front of the room, his broad frame leaning against the white board., “Did everyone tell ‘ya to skip?”

You chuckle softly, “No, Logan, I think it was actually something you said.” He furrows his brow, you clarify, “Wednesday when you left class you sorta said ‘see ‘ya Monday.’ So I think people just got confused.”

“Huh, and I guess you’re here…” he trails off, wanting you to explain.

“The convenience store. You said you’d see me on Friday, so, I just assumed you misspoke the other day,” you conclude, your fingers fiddling with the lid on your thermos. He just stares at you for a beat, making your anxiety swell in your throat. Is he mad at me? I think he’s mad at me, you think to yourself, “Not that you messed up or anything! It’s definitely everyone else’s fault for not following up with you, or whatever.”

“Right,” he says, giving you an incredulous look. You definitely weirded him out. The way he’s looking at you makes your breath hitch, and not in a good way.

“Anyway,” you continued, setting your coffee on a nearby desk, attempting to drive the topic of conversation elsewhere, “I might as well give you this.”

You approach Logan slowly as you rifle through your shoulder bag in search of your essay. Your fingers anxiously fumble between each folder and binder in your bag, incapable of grasping anything. You halt your approach, digging deeper in your bag to find the folder containing your essay. Jesus Christ where the hell is it. You’ve been searching for hours, has it been hours? Or 15 seconds? You cannot tell because time has halted right here. Blue folder, blue folder, blue folder, you repeat to yourself, hoping your thoughts do something to pop the folder in your face. Finally, after years of searching, you’ve found it. You pull it out of your bag with a breath of relief, stepping forward as you intend to hand it to Logan. A gasp escapes your lips when you slam straight into Logan’s tall frame, stumbling backwards, nearly falling until hands grasp your waist and keep you upright.

“You alright?” Logan asks, his hands remaining fixed on your waist. You look up at him through your long eyelashes, your hands planted flat on his chest for support.  You cannot help the fluttering in your heart at your proximity to him, feeling your arousal swirling inside you at the feel of his strong hands holding you tightly. Logan stares at you from above, breathing heavily through his nose; his sharp, repetitive inhales almost sounding like a dog sniffing the air. You struggle to form a coherent thought, the only thing flooding your senses is the smell of Tobacco and pine emanating from Logan. Only a few seconds have passed, but as far as you know time doesn’t exist anymore. Logan loosens his grip on your sides, smoothing your jacket down with his hands before letting you go. You clear your throat, trying to shake the impure thoughts that are swarming your mind.

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” you exhale, handing him the folder, “Um, my essay. Here you go.”

“Right, thanks,” he smirks as he takes it from you, “Don’t suppose you want to be the only one hearing my lecture today.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” you affirm eagerly, watching Logan’s smile dissipate into a pursed line. He was joking, oh my god. Kill me. “Oh! You were kidding! No, I’d much rather be home right now. Definitely do not want to be here…with you.” Your words grew quiet towards the end, unsure if your recovery was even remotely smooth at all. If you could even call that a recovery.

“Oh, so you don’t want to be here with me?” he questions, his arms crossing over his stiff chest.

“No! No, no, of course I do, you’re lovely, I mean, not—I don’t hate you is what I’m saying. You’re lovely, as far as professors go,” you stutter, a clammy layer of sweat forming on the palms of your hands. He’s silent, his eyes burning a hole into your soul. Surely, he’s mad at you, “I would so love to sit and listen to you lecture, if you want, totally up to you. I’ll be here taking notes and listening if—“

Logan calls your name with a chuckle, interjecting your ramblings and bringing them to a halt.

“I’m just messing with ‘ya, bub,” he assures with a self-satisfied smile, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You can tell he gets a lot of enjoyment out of making you uncomfortable, giving himself personal satisfaction every time you squirm under his gaze.

“Oh,” you mutter dejectedly, your face blushing red from embarrassment, “right, well, you sure got me.” You attempt a laugh to hide your anxiety. Fiddling with the strap of your bag, you try to focus on anything else than the tears of embarrassment that prick the corners of your eyes. You hate this feeling, someone making a fool of you just because of your gentle, people-pleasing demeanor. It makes you feel weak, even though you physically aren’t, but no one knows that. They just see a meek, quiet girl that they can walk all over and take advantage of.

“Shit, are you okay?” Logan asks, a surprising level of concern in his voice. His knees dip slightly, craning his neck to your level to try and meet you face to face. You keep your eyes to the ground, not wanting to embarrass yourself further by crying in front of your professor just because he teased you a little bit. You’re surprised to feel fingers grasp your chin, gasping as Logan lifts it to so you’ll meet his eyes. Tears haven’t fallen down your cheeks yet, but you’re sure you look embarrassing; flushed cheeks, watery eyes, parted lips inhaling air shallowly. Logan looks concerned, which surprises you. It seems out of character for him, considering he only speaks to cuss someone out.

“You look like you need a drink,” Logan says, not a hint of humor in his face, fully meaning this seriously and earnestly. Like it could solve all of your problems.

“I can’t drink I have class,” you whimper, slightly confused.

“Not now, later, here—you got a paper? Pen?” he asks as he drops his hold on your chin, holding his hand out while he waits for you to hand him what he’s asking for.

You nod, shuffling through your bag for a notebook and pen, retrieving it and handing it to him with a sniffle. He starts scribbling something on an empty page.

“9 o’clock,” he hands you the paper, an address is written on it, “go there, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, no, I can’t ask you to do that,” you declined politely.

“You’re not asking me to do anything, I’m asking you,” he corrects, a firm tone in his voice making you nervous to say no. It’s almost as if he isn’t asking, merely telling you what you’re supposed to do, but disguising it as an ask to seem less brute.

“Okay, 9 o’clock,” you conclude, nodding your head in agreement.

…

What the hell are you doing here? This is inappropriate. This breaks multiple codes of conduct. But free booze? Who are you to decline an offer like that. The outside of the establishment is like any other mountain-town, backwoods, rural dive bar. It honestly wasn’t too far from where you live either, maybe you ought to give this place a visit more often. You step out of your car and approach the front door, lit with a neon red “open” sign flickering in and out of consciousness. The door jingles and creaks when you open it, causing a few of the patrons to turn their heads towards you before promptly returning back to their drinks and games of pool. The air smells of stale cigarettes and salt, rock music droning through a busted jukebox in the corner. Straight ahead, you see the bar, lit dimly by more neon signs and faulty overhead bulbs. A familiar figure is already there, Logan’s flannel-covered back is to you, hunched over what you can assume to be a drink he’s been nursing. You approach the bar-seat next to him, pulling it out with a sharp scratch to the ground, causing Logan to turn his head in your direction. Before you can even mutter a greeting, the bartender has already intercepted your attention.

“What can I get you?” he asks, scratching at his scraggly beard, a rag draped over his thin, tattooed shoulder.

“Um, Woodford and coke?” you ask as you get comfortable on your stool. The bartender laughs at your request.

“This ain’t that kind of place, missy,” he quips, you try and look at Logan for support but he’s focused on his beer, “I got Maker’s, Jim Beam, and Jack, what’ll it be?”

“Maker’s, I guess,” you concede, watching as the bartender walks down the bar to make your drink.

“Bourbon girl, eh?” Logan remarks, adjusting in his seat to face you.

“Um, yeah, I don’t like much clear liquor,” you say, trying your best to avoid eye contact, “or, it doesn’t like me at least. Some of my worst nights started with a bottle of vodka.”

Logan laughs, catching you off guard, you laugh lightly with him. The bartender sets your drink in front of you, you thank him with a smile.

“Open or closed?” the bartender asks, but before you can even think of a response, Logan answers for you.

“Put her on mine, Jim,” Logan says.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—“

Logan gives the bartender a stern look, and he walks away, no contest.

“Thank you,” you grin, taking a sip from your glass.

“Don’t mention it,” he waves off, the same warning in his voice as last time. There’s a beat of awkward silence. You’re not sure what to say, or why he even asked you here.

“I um—“ you pause, trying to find the right words, “I appreciate you going out of your way to try and make me feel better about earlier.”

“I didn’t go out of my way,” he corrects, turning back towards the bar, his body now parallel with yours, “this is usually where you can find me this time of day.”

“Oh, well, thanks for inviting me, I guess,” you correct your previous statement. You purse your lips, wanting to explain your behavior earlier. But you’re not sure if that’s appropriate, you feel bad that he had to take pity on you just because you got choked up from him making fun of you. “Look, I at least want to apologize for the way I acted earlier and—“

“Save it,” he interjects with a raise of his hand.

“I’m…sorry I—“ you stutter, trying yet again to apologize for your presence, causing Logan to cut you off with a wave of his hand again.

“You don’t need to keep doing that. Have your drink. Relax. I’m not pissed at you,” Logan reassures, his voice stern. You’re convinced that his voice doesn’t fluctuate from that kind of tone too often. But despite the sternness of his voice, you feel your shoulders relax. You’re holding his gaze but you don’t feel like you’re about to combust. You feel…fine. You feel just fine.

“Huh,” you mutter, a curious tinge to your voice. Relax. Have your drink. You ponder the glass for a moment, considering it. Fuck it. You raise it to your lips and chug, swallowing every burn the Maker’s leaves down your throat without a care. Logan’s brows raise at your sudden gratuitous impulse.

“Okay then,” he remarks with a grin.

A buzz floats around your head, your chest heaves from your uninterrupted drinking.

“Rick!” you call, attempting to get the attention of the bartender.

“Jim,” Logan corrects you quietly, smiling in amusement as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Jim! Can I have another?”

…

You’re four bourbon and coke’s into your evening, and you cannot recall the last time you had this much fun. You beat Logan twice at pool and watched him take fruity, girly shooters for each loss, per your request. Currently, you’re in the middle of another game, a tied score bringing out your competitive edge. Logan’s frame is bent over the pool table, lining up the perfect shot. You chew on the straw in your drink as you unabashedly ogle his ass. Damn, he looks good in those jeans. He makes his shot, the cue ball ricocheting off of the edge and barely skimming the 8 ball he was trying to get in.

“Damn it,” he grunts, turning away from the table, his chest rising and falling in frustration. You giggle in excitement, ready to take your turn.

“Jim! I’d get started on that lemon drop if I were you!” you call, your voice slurring slightly as you’re ready to claim your victory over your professor.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, bub,” Logan warns, clearly a bit more annoyed at the fact he’s losing than he’s letting on.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me, baby,” you counter, a teasing, almost sultry edge to your voice. Logan holds his eyes on you, watching as you bend over the pool table to make your shot. You close one eye, carefully trying to line up the cue ball in the direction you want to go. The ball is towards the center of the table, but you’re so sure that you can manage on your own, balancing on your tip-toes.

“Need a hand?” Logan asks, trying his best to hide his amusement at the precarious position you’ve put yourself in.

“Shh!” you snap, “I’m concentrating! 8 ball, corner pocket.” You make your shot, but your feet slip out from under you with the momentum you built. You almost crumble to the floor, but Logan’s hands catch you around your ribcage first. He lifts you onto your feet, but in your buzzed state you’re having a hard time maintaining balance.

“Easy there,” Logan drawls, keeping his hands so temptingly close to the side of your breasts. You’re jelly in his hands, letting him take hold of you in whatever way he wants. You could spin around and make out with him right here, which you honestly consider for a moment. But before you can, Logan leans his face close to your ear, his beard tickling your cheek.

“Looks like you scratched,” he whispers, his gravelly voice reverberating around your skull. Any other day, this would make you wet immediately, but the competitive monster inside of you is awoken. You shake your head in disbelief, turning your focus back to the pool table. There’s no sight of the white cue ball anywhere. You suddenly find your balance, scrambling out of Logan’s grasp to search for what pocket the ball got shot into. ‘Lo and behold, it made it into the corner pocket you were aiming for.

“Goddamnit,” you curse, stomping your foot in frustration, gripping the table with white knuckles.

“I told you not to get ahead of yourself,” Logan taunts, one hand planted on the pool table, the other on his hip. You scowl at him, trying to find a clever comeback, but your liquor soaked brain is coming up dry. The sound of your name turns your attention towards the bar.

“I got ‘yer lemon drop right here,” Jim calls, setting the sugar rimmed shooter on the edge of the bar closest to you.

“Get her a shot of Tito’s to wash that down with, will ‘ya, Jim?” Logan chimes, maintaining eye contact with you. Your jaw drops in shock at the deliberateness of his actions. The nerve.

“Are you trying to get me to be more sloppy just so you can beat me again?” you question, your eyes narrowing as you cross towards him. You stand just a few inches in front of him, squaring up to him with a challenging look in your eyes.

“I think you’re doing a good enough job at being sloppy by yourself,” he teases, eyeing you up and down. You roll your eyes as you brush past him and towards the bar to retrieve your punishment. Lemon drop in one hand, Tito’s in the other.

“Bottoms up,” you chime, maintaining eye contact with Logan as you lick the sugar off the rim of your glass, taking the shooter down with one swift gulp. You wince slightly, before humming in satisfaction, the sweetness masking the vodka just enough. You exhale in preparation for your next drink, closing your eyes and willing yourself to not think too hard about what you’re going to inevitably do to yourself. A single lemon drop is not enough to make you blackout and puke all over your house, but another shot of vodka on top of that might just put you on that track. Swallowing your hesitance, you bring the glass to your lips and choke it down in one gulp. Frowning at the way it burns your throat, sending tingles down your spine.

“Oh, wow,”  you grunt, your face twisted into a pained expression. “Okay, fuck you, m’gonna win this next one.”

Logan snorts at your drunken confidence, already anticipating what might happen next.

You did not, in fact, win the next one.

Logan cockily slams a shot glass of clear liquid in front of you, causing your jaw to drop in surprise.

“Thisn’t fair,” you pout, leaning against the pool table for support.

“I choked down 2 lemon drops because of you, the least you can do is take this shot of tequila, princess,” Logan counters, offering you a slice of lime and a flimsy packet of salt.

“Bitch, this’s tequila?!” you exclaim, too drunk to even comprehend the fact that he just called you princess.

“Bottoms up,” he says teasingly, pushing the glass towards you, clearly quoting you from when you were more confident earlier. “Unless you’re feeling like chickening out on me.”

“No! I jus’ don’ wan’ get too drunk before our nex’ game,” you slur, almost tripping over yourself. Logan sighs, considering your drunken state for a moment.

“Tell you what,” he starts, “I’ll do half this shot with you if you quit your whinin’, got it?” You nod eagerly, accepting his proposal. With your confirmation, Logan takes the lime in his mouth and bites it in half, giving you part of it. You secretly wish he gave you the half that was in his mouth. He rips the salt packet open, and you watch earnestly as his tongue swipe along the back of his hand before he pores some of the salt on it. You follow suit, wetting the back of your hand with your tongue and allowing Logan to pour a bit of the salt on it. Logan goes first, licking the salt up, swallowing half the shot down, and finishing it off with a bite of the lime. You try and stifle a gag when you look at the glass of clear liquid. You sigh, closing your eyes tight as you lick the salt off the back of your hand, choke down the tequila in one gulp, hoping the squirt of lime juice in your mouth will save you. It does not. Your throat burns and you involuntarily shiver at the contact of the liquor on your tastebuds.

“I’m gonna get these back to Jim,” he gestures to the stack of glasses that’s accumulated over the course of your games, “rack ‘em up for me, princess.” Logan nods to the pool balls, indicating for you to get another game started. You oblige, leaning over the table to retrieve the balls and placing them into the plastic triangle. A gasp escapes your lips when you feel a pair of hands grasp your waist. Assuming it’s Logan, you smile, craning your neck to get a view of him. You startle when you see a complete stranger pressing up against your rear. A yelp leaves your lips as you scramble up onto the table in an attempt to get away.

“Don’t be like that, baby, I was just saying hi,” the strangers gruff voice beckons to you from where your feet are hanging off the table. You scrunch your face in disgust. He has a long, unkempt beard with yellow teeth peeking out behind it. His hairline is thin and greyed, his figure broad and heavyset. He towers over you, making your stomach churn.

“No thanks,” you say, sternly, sobering up slightly in an act of self preservation. The stranger doesn’t let up, though. Still attempting to pull you towards him by grasping at your ankles. You don’t register anything else around you. Not Logan’s shouts from the other end of the bar, you don’t see him rushing towards the stranger either. Your preservation is the only thing on your mind.

“I said no, asshole!” you shout, reeling your legs back before kicking into his chest with as much force as you can muster, your abnormal strength sending him flying all the way into the back wall 10 feet away. He crashes against the wood paneling, leaving a dent in his wake, groaning and writhing in pain on the ground. Your adrenaline dissipates, allowing the realization of what you just did to really sink in. Someone of your size should not have been able to send someone like him flying in the way you did, and the way that Logan looks at you, indicates just that.

“…You okay?” Logan asks carefully, reaching towards you, helping you down off of the pool table. You tumble off the surface, allowing Logan to fully support your weight. “You, uh, seemed to have it pretty under control there.”

“I don’ skip leg day,” you slur, feeling your mouth suddenly fill with saliva, your natural instincts of self preservation just dissipated, and you now are feeling the full brunt of every sip of alcohol you had tonight. The blood drains from your face and a wave of nausea washes over you, “Logan, I think’m gonna—“

You can’t even finish your sentence before you hurl the upset of your stomach all over the floor in front of you, Logan just barely missing the line of fire.

“Shit,” Logan hisses, trying to support you as best as he can without getting your puke all over him, “Okay, let’s get you out of here before you kick someone else through a wall.”

You’d find that funny if you weren’t painfully nauseous right now. Logan slings your arm around his neck, you’re limp around him, like a rag doll. The next few hours are a blur. You’re delirious, incapable of forming a coherent thought. You might recall Logan asking for an address, or directions. But you don’t remember what you said, or if you even said anything in response through your drunken stupor. Which leads you here, hunched over the toilet in Logan’s bathroom, as he tries to shove croutons in your face in an attempt to soak up the liquor that’s strangling your stomach. You’re half awake, ready to fall over and sleep this off. So you do just that, fall over, that is. You’re snuggled into the shag rug on his bathroom floor, reveling in its softness. Oh, this is perfect. You think to yourself, dozing off already.

“C’mon, you can’t sleep on the floor,” Logan grunts, scooping you up off of the bath mat. An incoherent whine escapes your throat at your loss of comfort. You snuggle into his chest, seeking the same comfort you were just robbed of. Your body lowers onto something soft and plush. You sigh in approval, spreading your arms across the expanse of this luxuriously soft bed. Ready to get comfortable, you groan in indignance at the stuffiness of your jeans. You ungracefully unbutton and prod them down your legs, freeing your body from the stiff discomfort of the pants. You hear a throat clear, and feel the comforter get pulled out from under you and then promptly over you, cocooning you in a soft, pillowy heaven. The soft fabric feels so nice and cool against your bare legs, clad in nothing, save for your panties. You silently thank your sober self for wearing a tank top and no bra today, allowing for optimal sleepwear.

“There’s water for you here,” Logan tells you, gently, gesturing to what you think is the nightstand, but you can’t bear to look at it.

“Don’t puke on my bed,”Logan warns. The light gets turned off and you sigh at the peaceful nature of the space. You inhale, reveling in the scent of Logan that lingers on the bed.

“Hm, bed smells like you,” you hum in satisfaction, finally feeling your sleep begin to overtake you. There’s a beat of silence that hangs in the air.

“Night, princess.”

...

A/N: hehehehehehe😈😈😈😈 I hope y'all had as much fun reading the bar scene as I had writing it. I loved writing reader letting loose a bit and not being so anxious, hopefully she stays that way but you'll have to wait and see. I'm getting oral surgery tomorrow so I'm not sure when the next update will be. click here to view on ao3.

Tags: @wolviesgirl @sanemis-piss

[cherthegoddess]

Myth - Meeting Bucky Barnes

Summary: After a grueling mission, Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers encounter Y/n, a mysterious and skilled operative brought in to clean up the aftermath. Bucky is immediately struck by her presence, while Y/n handles the situation with confidence and ease. Their brief interaction leaves Bucky intrigued and sets the stage for something more.

Warnings: Awkward Bucky And as always this was written with a black reader in mind but anyone can read it!

Main Masterlist l Series Masterlist

Part 1

Word Count: 1.1K

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader

Meeting Bucky Barnes

There was one thing for sure; Bucky was ready to lay down. The mission against some Hydra operatives exhausted him immensely, especially with all of the destruction that they caused the nearing city. He checked on one more civilian before Steve tapped him on his shoulder. “Good job today, Buck.” Bucky only grumbles in response to his tiredness taking over his body. Steve laughed at his drained friend before wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “I just hate that we keep leaving these cities like this. They already had to deal with the torment of Hydra and now this.” Bucky waves an arm at the scene as they walk towards the quadjet that just landed for them. A few men step out and begin collecting some of the tech that Hydra had to examine it. “Fury has been hiring an outside source to clean up and apparently she’s really good.” Bucky looks at Steve confused. “She? There’s no way one person is cleaning this all up.” Steve shrugs his shoulders. As if on cue a beautiful woman, one of which Bucky has never seen before, steps out. He stops in his place completely to stare at her. 

Y/n hated when Fury, really it was Maria, called her to clean up. They seemed to always have a huge load of chaos waiting for her. She much preferred tidying up whatever supernatural being that was roughing up a town. What she hated even more was the seemingly lack of care these so-called Avengers had in the towns that they fought in. Would it be that hard to have a contained fight in some building where no one could get hurt? Y/n stepped out of the quadjet stopping to talk to one her favorite field agents who took care of collecting any artifacts. “Hey, Stace! It’s good to see you. What don’t you want me to make disappear today?” Stacy raised her head. “Well, if it isn’t a Myth! If you could just leave the weapons for today…” Y/n eyes trail to the person behind Stacy, staring at her so blatantly. When she catches his eye, he quickly looks down. She knows who he is quickly by the gleam of his metal arm. She focuses back into her conversation with Stacy smiling, when she finishes. “Thank you for your help. One more thing, what’s the deal with Barnes over there?” Stacy looks back slightly to see where Y/n is nodding her head to before turning back to her. She raises her eyebrows in question, but never actually asking. “Well, he’s a bit grumpy and mostly hangs out with Captain Rogers when he’s not with him he’s alone or with Agent Romanoff. But he’s definitely a gentleman, but I think that’s all those boys from the 40’s. Oh and he’s single. I’ve heard rumors that Agent Romanoff has been trying to set him up for a while, but he rejects it everytime.” Y/n nods taking in the newfound information. “If you want, you might want to ask Cap and Sergeant Barnes for any other things that they would like you to clean up.” Stacy says with a wink. “Thanks! I’ll go do that.” Y/n says with a light smile and appreciation for the woman in front of her. Stacy waves goodbye and watches as Y/n begins making her way to where Bucky and Steve are with a smirk. 

“Oh god, Stevie she’s walking over here.” His gruff voice comments. Bucky’s eyes are filled with panic as the woman stalks over to their position. Steve grins at his friends' panicked state. He hadn’t seen him like this since… well never. Even in the 40’s, he had girls flocking and stuttering over him. Bucky could instantly feel her confident aura, without even speaking to her. “Hello, Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers. I was told by Stacy to ask you guys if there’s anything else you would like me to clean up other than the obvious.” She gestures to the destroyed buildings. Bucky just stares at her, not a word exiting his mouth. Steve looks between the two with obvious tension. Steve clears his throat. “I think that’s it honestly! I apologize to you and your team for all of this.” Y/n laughs slightly, Bucky now wishing he could hear more of the sound. “No, team, just me.” She tells them. They both look confused. “Just you?” Two words from James Buchanan Barnes' lips leave Y/n weak in the knees. She almost forgets to respond. “Sorry I forgot to introduce myself. That may clear up some confusion. I’m Y/f/n, otherwise known as The Myth.” The boy's eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the one with the Cleaning Manipulation. I’m surprised we haven’t met you before.” Steve says with a hint of shock. “I usually try to leave as soon as possible. I usually leave exhausted after I finish up with SHIELD clean ups.” Y/n looks around and then suddenly the buildings start rebuilding themselves as well as the other areas that were filled with disarray. Bucky watches in shock as all of the chaos that they left goes away within minutes, leaving everything as if nothing had ever happened. He looks over to Steve who has the same look on his face as well, but he notices something else as well, Steve being completely cleared from the bruises and gashes that were on his face. Each of the cuts on Steve’s suit being magically stitched up follows. Bucky looks over himself as well, pushing his stomach where his previous bruised ribs were, when there is no pain, he looks up at Y/n with widened eyes. “You can heal people too?” Y/n shrugs. “My abilities qualify as being hurt as a mess, but there’s definitely limits. If you want, I’d be happy to talk about my abilities and things with you, Sergeant.” A blush sweeps over Bucky’s cheeks. Steve grins. “He’d love to.” Y/n continues to look at Bucky for a response to make sure he is comfortable. Steve nudges him when he still doesn’t speak. “Yeah, that sounds good.” His voice still gruff.. Y/n smoothly pulls out a pen from her left breast pocket and grabs Bucky’s non-metal hand, writing her number down. “You just call me when you’re ready to set up that conversation and I’ll be here, Serg.” She says with a slight smirk. Bucky’s mouth is slightly ajar. “It was nice to meet you both. Y/n turns around and starts walking towards the quadjet. “Bucky, call me Bucky.” He finally gets out and Y/n turns back around. “It was wonderful to meet you, Bucky, be sure to call me.” She winks and makes her way back to the quadjet. When she’s gone, Steve pats his best friend's shoulder. “She’s amazing.” Bucky finally says. “You’re never going to wash that hand are you?” Steve says jokingly. Bucky shakes his head. “Never.”

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[multi-fandoms-posts]

Secrets in the Storm

X Men Masterlist

The sky outside is heavy and dark as the jet flies through the storm. Inside, Y/N, Charles, and Erik sit tense and silent. Their mission: to infiltrate a dangerous facility where mutants are being held—a task that requires the utmost concentration. Yet something is distracting Charles. His gaze is restless, and he rubs his forehead.

“Charles, what’s wrong?” Y/N asks, noticing his unease.

“It’s hard to explain,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “There’s… a presence. I feel something, but I can’t quite grasp it.”

Erik, who is monitoring the instruments, turns to him. “Now is not the time for riddles, Charles. Focus on the mission.”

Charles nods, but the feeling doesn’t leave him. This presence is powerful, but different from anything he has ever felt before. He tries to ignore it, but it lingers. Something important that he doesn’t yet understand.

As the jet lands, they must move quickly. The facility is hidden behind dense trees, the rain making the ground muddy and slippery. They run through the forest, each step cautious, ready for the upcoming fight. But Charles keeps stopping, his thoughts drifting back to the strange presence. He knows he can’t ignore it any longer, but now is not the time to question it.

When they reach the facility, the battle erupts. Erik raises his arms, metal beams tear from the walls, hurling enemies to the ground. Y/N fights with swift, precise movements, while Charles uses his telepathic abilities to confuse their foes. Then, the presence in Charles’ mind becomes suddenly overwhelming. It hits him like a revelation he hadn’t anticipated.

“Erik!” he calls telepathically. “It’s Y/N…”

“What about her?” Erik dodges an attack and sends several metal pieces crashing into his enemies. “I’m busy, Charles!”

“She’s pregnant.”

Erik stops abruptly, and before he can react, he is struck hard from the side. He is slammed against the wall, the metal structure behind him bending under the impact. Erik collapses to the ground, dazed. Charles immediately feels a surge of anger rising within him.

“Erik!” Y/N calls, but before she can move, Charles raises his hands. The telepathic barrier he creates is stronger than ever, forcing the enemies back, driving them to their knees. His eyes sparkle with determination.

But Erik is already up again, blood running down his forehead, yet he ignores it. With a deep, angry breath, he extends his hands, and the metal structures of the facility twist and shatter under his command. “No one,” he growls, “touches her.” His rage unleashes a massive shockwave, throwing enemies against the walls and shaking the facility to its core.

“What’s wrong with you two?” Y/N shouts as she continues to fight, confused by the sudden shift in their fighting styles. “Why are you so aggressive?”

Charles doesn’t respond; his mind is solely focused on protecting Y/N and the child. “We need to protect her, Erik,” he sends telepathically.

Erik simply nods and unleashes another wave of metal and fury. Metal plates slice through the air, crushing enemies in a destructive whirlwind. Every move Erik makes is wild and deadly, his powers unleashed with an intensity Y/N has never seen before.

Charles is equally relentless. He delves deeper into the enemies’ minds, forcing them to turn their weapons on each other. Every attack is more precise, every blow harder, as he knows Y/N and the life she carries must be protected.

Finally, after a long, brutal fight, the last enemies lie on the ground. The facility is secured, but the air is heavy with tension and unspoken truths. Erik breathes heavily, his eyes fixed on Y/N, while Charles remains vigilant.

Back in the jet, as the world outside is engulfed in the storm, the three sit exhausted together. Y/N keeps throwing questioning glances at Erik and Charles, both of whom are visibly tense. Finally, she breaks the silence.

“What was that? Why did you suddenly fight like that?”

Charles takes a deep breath and sits next to Y/N. “There’s something you need to know,” he begins cautiously. “During the mission, I felt something I couldn’t initially place. But then I realized what it was.”

Y/N looks at him, her confusion growing. “What do you mean, Charles?”

Charles looks to Erik, who nods briefly before speaking to Y/N. “You… you’re pregnant, Y/N,” Charles says quietly.

For a moment, Y/N just stares at him, as if she hasn’t understood. “What?”

Y/N is speechless, her hand moving incredulously to her stomach. “I… how? How could I not know?”

Erik moves closer and takes her hand. “We didn’t know either,” he says softly, “but when Charles felt it, we knew one thing: We have to protect you and the baby. That’s why we fought the way we did.”

Y/N looks at the two of them, her eyes wide with shock and surprise. But deep in her heart, she feels that she is no longer alone. She has a family ready to do anything to protect her and the unborn child.

“We will do everything to protect you,” Charles says gently, his eyes full of resolve.

“No matter the cost,” Erik adds, his voice firm and clear.

And Y/N knows she is not alone—she has two of the most powerful mutants in the world by her side, who will not hesitate to sacrifice everything for her and the life she carries.

[zeroseuniverse]

Promise Of Hope

Word Count: 2.0K Summary: Her brows lifted in genuine admiration. “Impressive. Let me guess—you’ll need someone to test it?” “Someone who’s efficient,” he replied smoothly, meeting her gaze with an unspoken challenge. She tilted her head, a smirk curving her lips. “You know where to find me.” Pairing: Seonghwa X fem reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

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The air inside Seonghwa’s workshop hummed with energy. The faint glow of molten metal cast flickering shadows across the walls, illuminating rows of meticulously crafted weapons displayed like art pieces. Every tool was placed with precision, every surface spotless, yet the space radiated an undeniable intensity. It wasn’t just a forge—it was a sanctuary for creation and destruction alike.

Seonghwa stood at the center, his sharp features framed by the dim light, his hands working fluidly as though he commanded the metal itself. Sparks flew as he manipulated an alloy, his mutant ability weaving molecular bonds into something impossibly strong. He didn’t look up when the heavy door creaked open, though he knew who had arrived.

“Seonghwa,” a voice drawled, light yet edged with grit. She strode into the room, her boots scuffing against the concrete floor. She carried a satchel over her shoulder, its weight suggesting more than just supplies. She dropped it onto the nearest table, the thud echoing through the room. “Got your alloys. Nearly got myself gutted for them, too.”

He glanced up, his calm eyes locking with hers. “And yet here you are,” he said evenly, his tone as cool as his demeanor. “Not gutted.”

Her smirk was faint but unmistakable. “What can I say? I’m resourceful.”

Seonghwa approached the table, his gaze flicking to the bag. “You cut it close,” he murmured, unfastening the straps and inspecting the contents. His fingers moved deftly, lifting pieces of rare metal and inspecting their purity as if judging their worth with a mere touch. “If these are as good as they look, they’ll do.”

“Good?” She crossed her arms, leaning against the table. “Try perfect. Got them from a Vanguard outpost in the dead zone. No alarms, no trails.” Her expression turned sharper, her voice lowering conspiratorially. “And no thanks to your outdated map.”

He arched a brow, setting a slab of gleaming metal down with a deliberate click. “Outdated? Or perhaps you were simply reckless?”

“Efficient,” she corrected, a glint of challenge in her eyes. “Got in, got out, and made a few friends along the way. Well, friends who won’t be talking anytime soon.”

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of Seonghwa’s lips. “Remind me to recalibrate my equipment. It seems I underestimated your… efficiency.”

“Glad to see we’re on the same page,” she quipped. Her eyes scanned the workshop, taking in the new designs sketched out on glowing screens and blueprints. “So, what masterpiece are you working on now?”

“Something experimental,” he said, his voice tinged with pride as he gestured to a sleek prototype resting on a nearby stand. It gleamed with a dark, liquid-like sheen, almost alive in its sharp elegance. “An adaptive weapon. One that will read its user’s movements and adjust in real time.”

Her brows lifted in genuine admiration. “Impressive. Let me guess—you’ll need someone to test it?”

“Someone who’s efficient,” he replied smoothly, meeting her gaze with an unspoken challenge.

She tilted her head, a smirk curving her lips. “You know where to find me.”

And so he did. As soon as the weapon was complete—a sleek blade with an obsidian sheen that pulsed faintly with an inner glow—Seonghwa tucked it into its custom sheath. He slung it over his shoulder, his usual meticulous demeanor untouched even in his excitement. The weapon was a masterpiece, and he knew exactly who deserved to wield it.

The journey to the abandoned subway was uneventful, his footsteps echoing faintly as he descended the graffiti-stained stairwell. The air grew heavier, cooler, carrying the metallic tang of rust and forgotten machinery. He navigated the tunnels with ease, following the faint rhythm of fists striking leather.

He found her there, locked in her own kind of battle. Her form moved with a fluid intensity, each punch a precise symphony of power and control. The bag shuddered under the force of her blows, the chain it hung from rattling like a warning. Her dark tank top clung to her frame, damp with sweat, and her hair was pulled back, leaving her sharp eyes focused on her target.

She didn’t stop when Seonghwa approached, though her lips quirked into a faint smirk as she caught sight of him in her periphery. “Didn’t peg you for the type to slum it in places like this,” she said, her voice carrying over the rhythmic thuds.

“Necessary circumstances,” he replied, his tone calm but carrying an edge of purpose. He leaned against the nearest pillar, watching her finish her sequence—a vicious right hook that sent the bag swinging wildly. She caught it with one hand, her breathing steady despite the exertion.

“What brings you down here?” she asked, wiping her hands on a nearby towel before slinging it around her neck. “Not like you to leave your sanctuary unless it’s urgent.”

He straightened, unshouldering the sheath and holding it out to her. “I finished it,” he said simply.

Her brows lifted in surprise, but curiosity quickly replaced it. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the smooth surface of the sheath before drawing the blade. It slid out with a whisper, the weapon catching the dim light and refracting it in an otherworldly way. She turned it over in her hands, testing its balance, marveling at the way it felt almost alive in her grip.

“Damn,” she muttered, giving him a sidelong glance. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “It’s adaptive,” he explained, his voice tinged with pride. “It’ll learn your movements, anticipate them, and adjust accordingly. It’s meant for you.”

She gave the blade a testing swing, the air around it seeming to hum in response. She grinned, something feral and electric. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” she said, spinning the blade expertly in her hand before pointing it toward him in a mock challenge. “Think you’ve got what it takes to keep up with me now?”

His calm gaze didn’t waver. “I built it. I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t.”

Her laughter echoed through the abandoned tunnels, a sharp contrast to the cold, empty air. “Alright, genius,” she said, stepping back and dropping into a ready stance. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Her stance was poised, comfortable, but her eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—never left Seonghwa. It wasn’t just about the fight. It was the weapon, yes, but also something deeper, unspoken. There was a trust between them, a bond forged in the quiet moments of shared strategy and understanding. They didn’t need words to know what the other was thinking.

Seonghwa stood a few feet away, unfazed, watching her as she shifted her weight, the blade still humming in her hand. There was something intimate about it—the way they moved around each other, the unspoken understanding, the way each knew the other’s next step before it was taken.

“I hope you’re ready for this,” she teased, a grin pulling at the corners of her lips. Her voice was steady, almost playful, but her eyes were intense. She had to focus now—everything about her, her movements, her mind, her heart, was attuned to him.

“I wouldn’t have brought it to you if I didn’t think so,” Seonghwa replied, voice low, deliberate. There was something almost dangerous in the way he spoke, like he knew exactly what she was capable of—and he wasn’t backing down.

She lunged first, quick and fluid, her footwork a blur. The blade sliced through the air with a whistling sound, a swift strike aimed at Seonghwa’s shoulder. He sidestepped with minimal effort, his body reacting with the precision of someone who knew exactly how she would move. She was faster than most, her strikes precise, honed from years of combat—but he had studied her like no one else, seen every flicker of hesitation, every pattern in her fight.

As she spun around, the blade singing with the movement, Seonghwa caught her wrist—his fingers closing around her arm with a firm but gentle grip, preventing the next strike. His face was inches from hers now, his breath brushing against her skin. They were both frozen in that moment—her pulse hammering in her chest, his steady and calculated, just like everything else about him.

“You’re quick,” he said, voice a breathless whisper, his thumb lightly grazing the inside of her wrist. His touch was careful, deliberate, as if every movement was calculated to not only disarm her physically but to unravel whatever tension had built between them, slowly, subtly. “But you’re not unpredictable.”

She leaned into his grip, not trying to break free, but instead allowing the closeness to linger. Her lips parted slightly as she spoke, her voice soft, teasing, but with an undercurrent of something more—something that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface. “And you’re too damn calm,” she replied, a challenge hidden in her tone. “I thought you'd give me a run for my money, not stand there like a statue.”

Seonghwa’s lips quirked, just a hint of a smile. “I’ve learned enough to know that underestimating you would be a mistake.”

Her gaze flickered to the blade in her hand, still humming with energy, then back to his eyes. They were so close, the space between them electric, charged with something unspoken. She could feel the heat of his body, the slight pressure of his fingers around her wrist, and it made her heart race in a way she hadn’t anticipated. This wasn’t just a demonstration. It wasn’t just the thrill of the fight.

“Then why don’t you show me just how much you’ve learned?” she whispered, her lips barely a breath away from his.

For a moment, Seonghwa didn’t move. His eyes traced her face, studying her as if trying to read something deeper, something more than just her words. But his gaze softened, a flicker of something else beneath the surface—a spark, a connection that neither could ignore any longer.

He let go of her wrist slowly, a decision, a choice, an invitation. “If I must,” he murmured, his voice rich with something deeper, something both thrilling and dangerous.

Without another word, he stepped back, his hand drifting to the hilt of the weapon on his back—the energy blade now resting at his side. He didn’t need to say anything else. The challenge was clear, the stakes were high, and the connection between them had shifted, subtly but irrevocably.

She raised her chin, her eyes never leaving his. She wasn’t just fighting for the weapon. She wasn’t just testing its power. She was fighting for something that had been brewing between them for a long time.

They circled each other once more, but this time, it was different. Each movement, each strike, was filled with the knowledge of the other, of years spent learning how the other fought, how the other thought. It was an unspoken language, one only they understood, built on the quiet moments of collaboration and the way they balanced each other’s strengths and weaknesses.

As she advanced once more, blade raised, Seonghwa met her halfway, his own blade flashing with sudden brilliance. He parried her strike with expert precision, but this time, he didn’t just counter—he took the opening she had left, his body moving with fluid grace, pushing her back.

For a split second, she lost her footing, but before she could regain control, Seonghwa was there, his hand catching her arm and pulling her back to steady her. The world seemed to pause, the tension between them crackling in the silence that followed. They were so close again, their breaths mingling, the weight of everything that had been left unsaid hanging in the air.

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

“This is more than a weapon, isn’t it?” she whispered, her voice a blend of awe and something else.

Seonghwa’s gaze softened, his hand still holding her steady. “It’s a promise,” he said, his voice low, almost a vow. “For you, for the future. That we can fight, together.”

And in that moment, with the blade still humming in her hand and Seonghwa standing so close, she knew that nothing would ever be the same.

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 7

Sorry for the wait! It was hard to focus while writing this chapter, so I might be editing it for mistakes here and there. I hope you like it! :] <3

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, broken limbs, violence, drowning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were laying dazed on the cold metal floor. In too much pain to focus on anything else besides breathing. You heard a commotion, voices muffled through the thick glass. At least inside this tube they couldn’t touch you anymore. Your mind strayed to the turtles. You weren’t able to save them. You weren’t able to do anything. You just hope they can somehow get away safely. That April and Casey can somehow save them.

“I won’t ask again…. Where’s (y/n).” Leo growled. He grit his teeth as he lowered his stance, ready to strike.

Baxter Stockman was quickly typing commands into the program on his computer. Karai stepped in front of him and drew her katana.

“Out of your reach, Turtles.” 

“Aaaaand, there!” Stockman hit one last key on this computer and a red light started to flash on the tank, bringing the turtle’s attention to the crumpled form inside the glass. At the same time a multitude of files and programs started closing on the screen one after another, Stockman’s signature digital self-destruct program. Baxter stepped away from his computer and lifted his arms up triumphantly.

The sound of rattling pipes overhead catches your attention. 

“Ha! You’re too late, Turtles. For years, the Foot Clan has sought out the means to fight you mutants on equal footing. And now, we have our secret weapon! An endless supply of pure mutagen!!!” 

You heard a loud beeping sound, then a click, and the squeak of metal.

A gush of icy water pours down on you from above. The sudden cold shocks you and marginally distracts you from the pain. You pull yourself to the edge of the glass away from the heavy stream of water coming down from above, slowly starting to fill the base. You take a shaky deep breath and bang a fist on the glass. No use. Dizzy and numb, you look outside the tank for someone, something, anything that might help you. That’s when you see them.

And with dawning horror, they see you.

“Guys….?” You press your wet hand up against the glass. They’re here! They’re safe!!!

“(Y/n)....? (Y/N)!!!!” Leo shouts and lunges towards the tank. He tries to rush up to the glass but Rocksteady blocks his path. There’s blood on your cheek, and even a good distance away he can tell you’re in bad shape. 

“OUT OF OUR WAY!” Raph roared at Bebop and Rocksteady, crossing his sai in preparation for a fight.

“Uuuh hey guys? Why is (y/n) in a giant fish bowl…?” Mikey asked, nunchucks at the ready.

“They ain’t comin’ out anytime soon, short stack.” Bebop said with an evil grin. 

“You turtles totally fell for our trap!” Rocksteady chuckled.

Donnie immediately noticed the computer hooked up to the tank’s controls. He tried to subtly sneak past Bebop to get to Stockman but Karai stepped forward and blocked his path.

Karai pointed her sword at Donnie. “The Foot will be unstoppable.”

“And I will FINALLY get the recognition I deserve, for single-handedly creating an entire race of superhumans that will rule over the city!!!” 

“You’re crazy!! You don’t even know what kind of side effects that mutation will have on regular humans!” Donnie activated the electricity at the end of his bo staff, ready to fight Karai to get to Stockman. 

“I do have to thank you turtles for activating their mutant gene. Without your help, none of this would be possible!” Stockman’s laugh echoed through the large room. He waltz over to the canister filling up with the distilled mutagen from your blood. “We originally got (y/n) by a…. foreseeable mistake. But to our surprise, they survived where others had failed. And yet- their results were incomplete. Their animal DNA wasn’t materializing no matter what we did to them. So we came back to New York, where the population could supply us with countless more test subjects.” Baxter said cheerfully, popping the lid off the canister. “But now that we have the results we wanted, we have no need of them! We can preserve (y/n)’s body in a special chemical compound that will put them into a permanent hibernation. No need to worry, their body will be harnessed for science!” Stockman’s laugh was deep and evil, and to everyone’s shock-

He dumped the canister of mutagen over his own head.

Karai lept back out of the trajectory of the splash. Baxter’s laugh increased in volume as he began to morph and change. His head and eyes grew large, his body shrank, little papery wings sprouted from his back, and he mutated into a giant mutant fly. 

Bebop and Rocksteady were stunned by the transformation. “Eeeeewwww… he turned into a bug?” Bebop whined.

“Nasty!” Rocksteady shook his head. Neither of them were paying attention to the turtles so Raph and Donnie covered for Leo and Mikey to make a break for the tank you were in. By now it had filled enough that you were starting to float.

“We’re here babe! We’re gonna get you out!” Mikey reassured you. 

You whimpered helplessly. You were having a hard time keeping your head above water, not really able to swim with a broken dislocated arm and broken ankle. 

“Stay back!” Leo sliced at the glass, and Mikey hit it with his nunchucks as hard as he could, but their attacks barely left a scratch!

“Guys! We have incoming!” Donnie yelled as Stockman had started flying around the room, maniacally laughing as he swooped down and kicked the back of Mikey’s shell, almost knocking him over. 

“Dude, gross!” Mikey protested. Stockman looked to be drooling some kind of acid substance from his mouth.

Bebop and Rocksteady had recovered and started to charge towards them. Leo and Mikey had to jump away from your tank to avoid getting trampled. 

“Donnie, that glass is as hard as steel!!” Leo jumped up and kicked Rocksteady across his cheek, then retreated.

“What’re we gonna do? (Y/n)’s tank is already half full!” Raph shouted. He was using his sai to hold back Bebop’s tusks as he tried to charge them. 

You were doing your best to calm your breathing enough that you could float, but every time your head ducked below water you panicked. Your body was exhausted and protested against your desperate movements, but you needed to survive long enough for the boys to break you out.

“Donnie! See if you can turn off the water!!! I’ve got Karai.” Leo ordered

“Mikey! It’s you and me!” Raph called over, clanging his sai together and shouted a war cry running up to strike Rocksteady. 

“What?! What about the bug brained dude??!! Eep!” Mikey ducked as Stockman flew over his head. He looked down and realized he was kneeling at the feet of Bebop, who had taken the black taser out of his pocket.

“You wanna taste too, little man?” 

When Bebop flicked on the taser, Mikey saw the small stains of fresh blood on the pointed tips that buzzed with electricity. He looked back over to you struggling in the tank and how heavily injured you looked.

He saw red.

Mikey had a rare moment of true anger as he jumped to his feet and knocked the taser out of Bebop’s hand with his nunchucks, and in a flurry of rapid hits he beat back the warthog. He finished him off with a powerful roundhouse kick to the head.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING WITH MY BAE!” He shouted triumphantly.

Raph looked back to Mikey with wide eyes, proud of his little bro for letting loose. “Woah. Way to go Mikey!” He ducked a hit from Rocksteady and punched him hard under his chin. Knocking him out cold. 

Leo was crossing swords with Karai. She was a skilled fighter. But he was much stronger than her. While he pushed her back with a heavy strike, she slipped on some of the mutagen that had spilled on the floor, allowing Leo to take advantage of the opening and disarmed her. He flicked her sword out of her hand and knocked her back. She glared daggers at him, quickly recovering. But seeing as Bebop and Rocksteady were knocked out, she opted for a tactical retreat.

“This is just the beginning.” She hissed and ran out of the lab door. 

Stockman was buzzing around your tank, still laughing maniacally. 

“You turtlezzzzz cannot defeat the mighty Dr Stockman!! I am invincible!! I am-“

Donnie turned on the taser at the end of his bo staff and vaulted it at the annoying human insect, striking him and electrocuting him, knocking him out of the air to fall on the floor with a gross splat.

“Good thing I always carry a bug zapper.” He deadpanned.

Donnie went back to trying to hack into Stockmans computer. He managed to get past the firewall with his hacking program, but he discovered that all of the interfaces connected to the tank control had been erased. 

There was no way to stop the tank from filling up completely. Donnie would have to write a whole new interface from scratch to control the tank.

There was no time.

You were running out of air, trying desperately to keep your head above water as the tank was almost full to the top. You took in one last deep breath just as the water consumed the last of the space. You held your good hand over your mouth and nose hard, trying to hold in the air, and floated down towards the bottom of the tank. 

No more air.

“(Y/N)!!!” 

“ANGEL CAKES!!!” Donnie and Mikey yelled out in panic.

Your eyes snapped open, hearing their muffled voices outside the tank. You swam over to the glass and met eyes with Raphael. He had picked a spot and began punching at the glass over and over again with his sai in his fists.

The needled jabs just managed to scratch the surface. 

You looked at him sadly through the glass. He was stressed, sweating and desperate to break through. Mikey had grabbed a chair and had chucked it at the glass from another spot but it just bounced off and broke on the floor.

Leo was standing behind Donnie with his hand on his shoulder, but his eyes didn’t leave your face. 

Time was running out. You were choking on the stale air in your lungs. Head getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. You removed your hand from your mouth and pressed it up to the glass, some bubbles of air escaping your mouth. Your eyebrows knit together to concentrate on not breathing in the fluid in the tank. But you were suffocating and in pain. 

It was hard.

You looked back up at Raph, and forced a smile on your face. You felt sad. You didn’t want them to see you like this. They felt so far away. 

Darkness was consuming your vision. The last remaining bubbles of air escaped from your mouth and your eyes slipped closed. 

“NO!!! NO-! (Y/N), STAY WITH US.” Raph pounded his fist hard against the glass. 

“DAMN IT.” Donnie frustratingly slammed his fist down next to the keyboard, his head falling into his hands. None of the lines of command coding he was typing in were working.

Leo left Donnie’s side and strode up to the tank.

“Move.” Leo ordered as he came up behind Raph. He unsheathed his swords and began slicing at the glass again. It was barely making a scratch. But combined with the small dents Raph had been making, he was slowly chipping away at the surface.

“Leo! If you can manage to cut 1.2 centimeters deep, it should weaken the glass enough to shatter with enough force!” Donnie yelled from where he was still furiously typing into the stationed keyboard. His attempts to unlock the system all in vain. 

Leo and Raph worked together to stab and slice at the weakest point in the glass until finally-

*crack*

A small fracture appeared in the glass. 

“There!!” Donnie called out. Raph and Leo switched to charging at the glass and ramming it full force with their shoulders. Over and over as the cracks grew wider and wider.

Mikey came over, and with a hand on Leo’s shoulder, the leader stepped aside to let his little brother help. Mikey joined Raph and rammed the glass again with such force the crack split all the way across the glass. One more strike-

The glass shattered on impact.

The gush of water that burst through swept Mikey and Raph off their feet. The floor of the lab flooded, and your body washed up on the floor. Lifeless and unmoving.

“(Y/N)!!!!!!” The boys all yelled. 

Leo reached you first, falling into a kneel at your side. He ripped out the two needles from your back and held you in his arms. Donnie rushed over and slid down into the other spot at your side, his goggles pulled into place as he quickly checked you over.

“They’re not breathing. Put them down flat, now.” Leo obeyed and laid you on your back. Donnie first pressed down on your diaphragm to check for water blocking your lungs, then began compressions. 

The room was dead quiet all except for the sounds of Donnie’s whispered counting as he pressed down on your chest. He paused, opened your mouth, pinched your nose, and breathed into your lungs. 

Mikey was nervously walking around you back and forth, and Raph watched you from a distance, a vacant expression as he watched your face for any sign of movement, pleading with himself for you to be okay. 

After what felt like an eternity, you coughed. Leo quickly rolled you lay on your side. You spit up water, gasping for air. You felt like you were coughing up a lung full of ethanol. 

Mikey cheered and Raph took a deep breath, covering his face with his hands. Donnie fell backwards onto his butt and pulled his goggles off his head, so incredibly relieved you were breathing. Leo rubbed your back comfortingly as you got your breathing back under control.

Once you got a suitable amount of oxygen back in your lungs, you whimpered. Your throat was burning and a pain in your stomach and chest made it hard to breathe.

Leo picked you up again, and held you close to his chest. Your eyes fluttered open and you winced at the bright light from the ceiling.

“Welcome back.” Leo said with a smile on his face.

“Leo…?” Your voice was quiet and scratchy. You looked around at Donnie, Mikey, and Raph that all came into view around you and Leo.

“Guys….?” You felt barely conscious. Head foggy and tired like you were still under water.

“We’re right here.” Donnie assured you, reaching down to pick up your good hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

All the fear and emotion of drowning and being captured suddenly crashed down on you all at once. You sniffed and big tears gathered in your eyes.

“I was… so scared… I thought I was going to lose you….!” You hiccuped and sobbed as Leo held your trembling form tightly against his chest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here. We got you.” Leo soothed, rubbing his hand down your back. He buried his nose into your damp hair and held you tight.

“You had us worried there for a minute!” Donnie was smiling at you, soft and relieved. Mikey was standing behind him rubbing tears out of his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.” Raph said, kneeling down behind you. 

“Wait. I need to splint their arm and their ankle first. Mikey, can you find me some-“

*crack*

“Will this work?” 

Mikey had already broken off the thin legs of a chair across the room. 

“Yeah that works fine.” He pulled out two rolls of gauze from one of the pockets on his belt, and took the offered sticks from Mikey, who knelt down by your feet. 

“What’re we gonna do about him?” He asked, motioning over to Stockman’s twitching form across the room.

The brothers all sneered at the fly mutant with similar levels of disgust on their faces, finding him rather gross. You smiled.

“Just leave him there, we can worry about him another time.” Leo offered, adjusting you in his grip. You winced terribly when your arm was moved. 

“….Is ...your arm dislocated?” Leo asked you, holding you upright in a sitting position, now thoroughly checking you over. 

Donnie and Mikey were working together to splint your ankle, Mikey holding up your foot while Donnie wrapped the splint to it.

“Let me see that.” Raph placed his hands on your shoulder and you clenched your teeth and whined quietly at the sharp pain.

“Leo, hold them still for a minute.” 

“Just hold onto me tightly, it’ll be over in a second.” Leo hugged you close, wrapping an arm around your good side.

Raph got hold of your tender arm, and with practiced ease, popped your shoulder back into place. You cried out loudly and buried your face in Leo’s shoulder, taking deep breaths. 

Raph tried to rub the soreness out of your poor shoulder. “Good job, princess. Now let Donnie get a look at that break.”

You hesitantly detached yourself from Leo, your shaking red and swollen arm was carefully picked up by Donnie, who set the splint and carefully wrapped the bandages.

“I’ll be able to get a better look at it with the x-ray machine back at home. For now we just have to be really careful not to jostle them too much when carrying them back.”

“I got em.” Raph volunteered. Leo looked to Raph, wordlessly nodding his head for his brother to take you from his arms.

“Careful of their arm….”

“Got it.” 

Without much effort, Raph scooped you up in his big arms. You winced as a sharp stabbing pain radiated through your stomach as you were held close to Raph’s chest.

Something was definitely wrong.

“I’m sorry, princess. It’s just until we get you home.” Raph apologized. Leo led everyone quickly out of the lab. 

Once back out in the hallway you had entered from, you noticed with visible shock the literal sea of bodies that covered the floor. Foot ninja. They fought through all of them, just to get to you.

Everyone exited the lab, careful to stick to the shadows as the sun began to rise. As the turtles made their way for their home, your stomach burned worse and worse with a white hot pain that radiated through your body. The movement of the city passing you by made you become dizzy, and your head felt like it was spinning. You felt nauseous and incredibly tired. 

“Hey Raph….?”

“Yeah princess?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you guys…. You had to save me instead….” You weren’t making any sense. Raph could barely hear you as the wind whipped past his head. You just felt so tired.

“Hey, stay with me, princess. We’re almost there. It’s okay.” Raph didn’t know what the right thing to say was. But your eyes were starting to slide closed.

“Can we…. Can we watch Princess Bride again…. When we get home….?”

Raph smiled at that.

“Yeah. We’ll watch it as many times as you want, short stack.” He didn’t care if his brothers teased him for secretly liking the girly movie. He didn’t care if he had to watch it with you a hundred times. He just wanted you to get better.

“We’re almost there. How you holding up?” 

Silence. 

“(Y/n)…?”

“Mmh?” 

Your eyes were closed.

“Come on, wake up, we’re almost there.”

He was desperate. 

“Mm…hm…” 

You hummed, but your eyelids felt too heavy to lift. You felt yourself sinking into a dark liquid abyss. You could no longer fight the pull.

“(Y/n)….. (y/n)? Hey…! Hey, no no no no no, you gotta stay awake. Come on princess…! (Y/N)!!!”

You felt Raph try to shake you awake, felt his muscles tense as he pushed himself to go faster. 

“We’re almost there, hold on…!”

“Hold on….”

Darkness overtook you.

Part 8

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x @leonardo-dabitchy @sh1ga-to3s

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[rei-ismyname]

Magneto, Storm and Blue Marvel vs a Stark Sentinel

It's issue #4 of Resurrection of Magneto and the old man is back in the world of the living, good as new. Storm, Blue Marvel, and Mags decide to go smash some fascists. After a particularly targeted trap for Magneto and unseen heroics from the others, they take prisoners and free the captive mutants. Blue Marvel is kind enough to offer the destruction of the facility to others.

Mags jumps at the opportunity and crumples the billion dollar facility like origami - leaving lots of metal lying around. A brief moment of peace is shattered by a Stark Sentinel. 'Mutants detected. Engage and destroy.'

Heh, Brashear throws some justified shade at Tony Stark. Even if Tony is less culpable for this monstrosity, both men know all too well that Tony ruins lives. He designed the ORCHIS Forge and played a part in the death of Adam's wife. These Sentinels are pretty sophisticated with specific countermeasures against the big guns. They're apparently Magneto proof, though that will be tested. Are they Storm proof?

Yep! Some kind of sonic weapon pins her down, unable to focus. Blue Marvel has a shot but it has countermeasures for him too. These are three of the most powerful beings alive but this robot has their number individually. Adam advocates for leaving, having done what they came to do. Mags wants to smash it, though the point is moot.

Some human journalists are disguised as fisherfolk and the sentinel is programmed to take out witnesses (and probably journalists too.) They have to take this thing down or all these people will die. Magneto of old probably wouldn't care, but he's committed to using his power responsibly in the world. Ethically. Heroically.

While Adam is trying to evacuate, Mags thinks outside the box. Using all that metal from the destroyed facility, Mags fashions two giant fists. It's go time, you red and gold bitch.

I'll give ORCHIS some credit for coding a passive aggressive sentinel - it reminds them that 'this unit is proofed against magnetic tampering,' walking into a series of dramatic one liners. Mags pounds the shit out of it with giant steel hooks and uppercuts but the piece of shit declares 'Impact insufficient.' Mags and Storm both get in on talking smack to a robot and stall for time. For the first time in his life, Magneto proposes a mutant/human circuit - the best of Krakoa with the best of humanity. An electromagnetic power up with Blue Marvel regulating the energy with antimatter. No idea how that works and Adam says it could kill him.

They do it anyway, and super Saiyan Magneto roars in pain and rage as they thrash this bringer of death. All he can do is hit it, and hit it, and hit it...

Until it breaks the fuck apart. Woo! Mags is exercising godly restraint in keeping his philosophical musings inside his head, though he can't help but think of Charles.

BOOM! After Mags' cracking the egg all three of them blow it the fuck up. Gotta love that these journalists have this whole thing on camera. This could have been the basis for a whole new life for Mags. Rehabilitated in the public eye and committed to his Bodhisattva Vow. Alas, it was not to be. Not yet anyway.

Time to get these people out of here - something Storm and Adam take care of while Mags goes to rescue Tony Stark. I don't think this is how Al Ewing would have ended things if Mags wasn't needed in other books, but it works for a new beginning. Sure, Tony sucks, but Mags letting go and looking to the future has value. Working to be a better man, even if it means saving a shitty one. At least he's actually on team mutant at this point.