#logan howlett x gn reader

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Just A Little Bit Jealous - Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Title: Just A Little Bit Jealous

Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Charles (Mentioned), Hank, Co-workers, Scott (Mentioned), Random bar people, and Rogue (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 4,927

Warnings: Jealousy, slight violence, slight suggestiveness, nicknames, teasing, banter, flirting, bars, alcohol (beer) mentioned, unwanted flirting and physical touch (nothing major), Reader has Telekinesis (and other unspecified mutations), minimal cursing, men being jerks, blood briefly mentioned, angst, and fluff

Logan wasn't the best with emotions. Or at expressing them really. However, in certain situations, the emotions that did seem to shine through were not the most positive ones. Especially as Logan found himself standing at the entrance of the X-Mansion kitchen; raging, for a lack of better words.

His vision was green. A dark haze settled over his eyes. It was a look that only Logan could achieve. The anger in his gut was beginning to bowl over. He needed to calm down, but how? 

Seeing you, looking the way you did, absolutely gorgeous in that outfit - the one that made you feel confident - it wasn’t even anything fancy, just your usual attire; something more laidback for the weekend. The way that you seemed to be oblivious to the way that Hank was looking at you. Logan understood. You looked stunning, as always. 

Even though Logan knew that he shouldn't be feeling such... Well, jealousy. Hank was a long-time friend of both of yours, and you and Logan had been together for well over a year at this point. But, he couldn't help it. It was like an itch under his skin that he couldn’t reach to scratch. Logan felt protective. As he usually felt for those he truly cared about. And even though he knew that he didn't need to worry, again, he couldn't help it. Logan knew Hank, and he knew him long enough to know that he was a good guy. Hank wouldn't try and steal you from him, not that you were something to steal. Logan didn't own you, if you so wished, you could leave him. You could do whatever you wanted. You could leave and forget all about him.

Though, that just might've been Logan's insecurities talking. 

At some point, while Logan was stuck in his head, his eyes still glaring holes into the side of Hank's head. Logan was not paying much attention to your conversation, but whatever it was about, Hank made you laugh. Another wave of jealousy rippled out of Logan. But, thankfully for Logan - and Hank - the conversation between you and Hank ended.

"Have a good night, Y/N," Hank spoke, grabbing his coke can from the kitchen counter.

"Goodnight, Hank." You replied, noticing Logan at the kitchen entrance, leaning against the wall; his arms crossed. 

Hank turned and paused, also noticing Logan, giving the man a grin. "Good evening, Logan."

"Evening," Logan grumbled, eyeing the man as Hank awkwardly passed him and left the room; escaping down the hall. 

You huffed, turning to lean against the kitchen counter, pressing the palms of your hands against the edge of it. You stared at Logan, inspecting his body language, trying to get a feel for how he was feeling, and Logan stared right back at you. You mimicked him, moving your arms to cross them over your chest, and at his eyebrow raise, you raised yours. His frown slowly slipped into a small grin at your actions, making your lips tug upwards in response. You moved towards him. "Hey..." Your voice was soft, yet full of curiosity. You looked up at him, taking him in fully once again.

Logan leaned forward slightly, his crossed arms dropping, and his hands coming to rest on your waist, "Hey..." He mimicked your greeting, making you huff again.

Raising your hands, you placed them on his own waist, your pointer fingers looping into his blue Jeans belt loops. "What's up with you?" You asked, tilting your head back a bit to look up at him. "Something on your mind?" You pressed on, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Hmm..." Logan hummed softly, gazing down at you for a moment - just admiring you, your eyes shining as bright as ever, looking up at him with such love and admiration - before lowering his face to meet yours, capturing your lips in a kiss. The kiss was slow but passionate. It sent shivers down your spine. One of your hands left his waist, cupping the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers running through the soft, brown hair at the nape of his neck. Your head was in the clouds, lost in Logan’s lips against yours. Logan felt all the anger and jealousy just wash away, leaving nothing but the love he felt for you burning inside of him. With each kiss and every touch, he felt a little bit lighter. 

You slowly pulled away from the intoxicating kiss, your eyes feeling heavy and your heart full, you couldn't stop your smile from growing as your whole body felt warm. You bit your bottom lip as you watched Logan chase your lips, before gently pressing his forehead against yours. 

You sighed, shutting your eyes once more, "I hope you didn't think that kissing me would get you out of answering." You lightly teased, feeling Logan's warm breath waft against your face as he let out a sigh of his own.

Logan's hands tightened around your waist, the warmth from his hands seeping through your shirt and onto your flesh. “Nothin' much on my mind, bub," Logan spoke, letting out one more sigh before letting his shoulders fall slightly, "Jus' a bit tired."

You hummed, nudging your nose gently against his before pulling your forehead from his, glancing at the kitchen clock on the wall. "It is almost seven." You turned to look back up at him, seeing that he was already looking right back down at you. "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?" You continued to tease, though Logan gave you a look and a small chuckle, you know that something else was swimming in that head of his; and you decided to let him just tell you whatever it was when he was ready.

Logan's grin turned into a smirk, blinking down at you tiredly, his hands on your waist tugging you back into him; your hands coming up to rest against his chest. "I put the 'grand' in 'grandpa'." He spoke. 

At that, you let out a snort, and the two of you started laughing quietly. It took a few moments before you quieted down, your hand coming up to your mouth as you looked at Logan; your eyes squinted slightly, trying to contain your giggles. "Either, you've been spending way too much time with Charles, or you really are tired." You giggled out, your laughter slowly subsiding.

Logan's chest heaved lightly as he chuckled once more, "Maybe both." 

As the both of you started to head up to your shared bedroom, Logan almost forgot what he was all upset over. Almost. 

~~~

Logan had once again found himself watching from afar as some guy - a co-worker - talked to you. You somehow convinced Logan to be your plus one for a work party that your job was hosting. Logan didn't want to go, but with your little pout - and Puss In Boots eyes - he caved, knowing that he wouldn’t win against you. You even convinced him to dress somewhat rather nicely, in black slacks, his boots, and his red flannel rolled up past his elbows. Yes, he looked nice, but he really wanted to wear his Jeans.

Logan disliked parties. Parties were different from bars though, you didn't have to interact with others. And with most parties, there was an expectation to mingle with others. Logan, however, did not want to mingle with others. He was a loner after all. 

He stood next to the table of snacks and refreshments, holding a small red solo cup of fruit punch for you; sadly for Logan, the party didn't have any alcohol. He could've really gone for a beer or two, but no. No, instead he had to stick to his own cup of fruit punch that he held in his other hand. 

But he watched, watched as you spoke to that co-worker of yours. Again, similar to Hank, the man said something to make you laugh - though, Logan knew you incredibly well enough to know that it was not a genuine laugh; the man even had the gall to reach out with his free hand to hold your upper arm for a moment. And Logan did what he could to push the jealousy that he was feeling down. Walking over, he skillfully maneuvered around some other people, making his way over to you. 

You nodded your head, letting out another fake laugh before you noticed Logan walking towards you in the corner of your eye. Turning your head, a real smile graced your features as you waved him over. "Logan! This is Henri."

"With an 'I'," Henri raised his cup in the air slightly with the inflection, giving Logan a grin, and offering his free hand out to the Wolverine. "Henri French."

Logan stared at him, with a hardened look, handing you your cup of punch without even looking at you. Taking Henri's offered hand, he shook it firmly - possibly enough to warn the guy to keep his fingers off of you. "Logan." He spoke simply, his voice gruff and low; letting go of Henri's hand, stuffing it into his slack's pocket. He turned his gaze back towards you, seeing your eyebrows knit together, and the confusion written across your face, your eyes searching his, though you quickly turned to look back at Henri with a smile; your hand curling around Logan's upper arm, the tips of your fingers brushing under the rolled sleeve of his flannel. At the touch of your chilled skin on his, Logan felt himself breathing out a deep sigh from his nose, you always knew how to calm him.

At Logan's nothing-but-short introduction, Henri let out a small laugh, "I know, Y/N said that was your name." He joked. "They seem to never shut up about you." Though Logan felt a sense of pride wash over him - making the corner of his lips twitch at the thought of you rambling about him to your co-workers - he also felt slightly off when Henri said that, the tone unnerved him. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes before you turned to look up at Logan with a sweet smile. "Lo, honey, could you hold my drink for me, please? I spotted Anna. I'll be back in a jiffy." And with that, your punch cup was back in his hand, and he was left alone to deal with Henri all by himself. 

Logan watched as you left, seeing you weave around a few people, waving to another co-worker of yours; an older woman with black hair and large glasses. Turning to look back at Henri, he noticed his gaze on you. And, in fact, Logan didn't like how Henri was looking at you. He was staring at you like he wanted you - the guy was even biting his lip, his eyes trailing up and down your body - Logan didn't like that one bit.

Letting out a small chuckle, Henri turned back to Logan, taking a sip of his punch. "You got a fine piece of ace there." Logan's brows furrowed, he wasn't exactly fond of how this conversation was going. 

"Excuse me?" Logan's voice deepened - a growl almost leaving his throat - as if he was warning Henri, feeling a burning feeling bubbling up inside him, but Henri just raised an eyebrow, brushing his short, blonde curls away from his forehead.

"Can't help a guy for being a bit curious, can you?" Logan pursed his lips, and Henri took the chance to continue, "So, how did you catch them? I've worked with them for three years now, and they never took me up on anything. I mean, come on, give a guy a break. What’s a guy gotta do to get some action around here?" He chuckled, and Logan felt his hands grip the cups of punch a bit tighter, the plastic of the cups crinkling slightly as the pressure. "You've got to tell me how you won them over. Did they play hard to get with you too?"

Logan wanted to lash out, but he knew how important this was for you, and he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of you and all of your co-workers… But, Logan was pretty close to punching this guy’s teeth in. "I don't have to tell ya nothin'," Logan finally growled, making Henri raise his hands in defense as he chuckled lightly. 

"Okay! Relax, buddy! Don't have to be so hostile, man, I'm just curious how good they are in-" Suddenly, Henri paused mid sentence, his own hand holding his cup of punch moving up in a swift motion. In confusion - and bewilderment - Logan watched as Henri moved the cup above his head, his body seemingly moving involuntarily. All the while, Henri's eyes were wide, his mouth agape as he blabbered nonsense in horror and confusion, before the cup flipped upside down, drenching himself in his own punch. The couple of people around both men stopped their conversations, turning to witness Henri as he slowly brought his hand down, his mouth opening and closing; his blonde curls wet and sticking to his forehead. "I- uh," He stammered out, "I- I don't know why I did that." He spoke out, sounding incredibly embarrassed.

Turning his head to look over in your direction, seeing you already looking over at him, a small, mischievous grin and a knowing look in your eyes. He matched your grin, knowing full well that this was your doing. 

~~~

When Logan said that he was going to go out on his bike, he wasn't expecting you to ask to come along. He was just going to a bar that was a couple of miles away, but the more the merrier; and Logan was actually meaning to show you the bar - that surprisingly didn't sell crap beer, at some point. When the world let the both of you, you and Logan would just ride around, sometimes for hours, just enjoying each other's company; the wind blowing through your hair, and the scenic views.

So, you and Logan drove off on his - Scott's - motorcycle, heading off to that bar that he told you all about. You weren’t all for bars, finding them a bit too loud and the lights a bit too dim. But, you had been curious ever since the many times Logan spoke about it when he got back to the Mansion. And even though Logan couldn't get drunk, you convinced him to let you drive the both of you home. Which was always fun for you. So, this was technically a win-win for both of you. Logan got to go to his bar, you got to drive home, and you both got to spend some quality time together.

When you pulled up to the bar, you slipped off of the bike, looking at the bar with your hands on your hips as Logan kicked the kickstand and slid off the bike. Looking around the exterior of the place, you noted how loud it seemed, even from the outside. You were in for a headache in the morning, and it wasn't going to be from the alcohol. 

"Ya good, bub?" Logan asked, his hand pressing the small of your back, his words breaking you out of your thoughts. 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I am," You nodded your head, glancing up at him, "I will admit, I am slightly nervous."

Logan nodded, turning his head to look at the bar, "I get it, but don't worry. I ain't gonna leave your side." Pulling you into his side, he gave you his signature grin, "Plus, they got the best fries."

"I like fries." You grinned right back up at him, "Lead the way."

"Sure thin', darlin'."

As Logan pushed the door open for you, you were immediately greeted by the smell of beer, sweat, and smoke; and the loud music that you heard outside, blasting overhead.

Logan’s hand was protectively placed on your lower back as he led you to the bar at the far end of the room. As you both walked, you took the time to look around and spied a couple of men playing pool to the right, and a handful of tables filled with all sorts of people to your left; drinking, smoking, and talking. At the far end of the bar, you found several men sitting on the bar's stools, watching the TV in the corner of the room; a football game was on. You were thankful that the bar wasn't full of just men, having spotted a couple of women here and there; with their partners, friends, etcetera. 

Finding a couple of empty stools at the bar, you and Logan took your seats, the bartender sliding over from behind the bar; cleaning a glass with a cloth. He was a burly man, with a well-trimmed beard and mustache - and a bunch of tattoos littering his arms. He gave Logan a nod, glancing at you before speaking.

"What can I get you two?" He asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the music. His voice was deeper than what you had thought it was going to be, as he sat the glass and cloth down.

"Beer," Logan answered, and the bartender nodded, then turned to you.

You waved a dismissive hand, letting out an awkward chuckle, "I'll just take some fries. Thanks!" 

"Yeah," Logan spoke up, "Thanks, Charlie." And this Charlie nodded once more, leaving to get Logan's beer and your fries. 

Turning in his seat, Logan leaned his arm against the bar - close enough for you to be able to hear him over everything - giving you a grin, amusement in his eyes, "Well, wha' d'ya think?" 

"What do I think?" You asked, resting your own elbow against the bartop, leaning your cheek against your hand, "It’s not too bad. Honestly, it's a bit loud."

Logan chuckled, "All bars are loud, bub." 

You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes, "Well, it's certainly not the worst."

For the next thirty minutes or so, you and Logan talked, about everything and anything as you ate your fries and Logan drank his second beer. It was very enjoyable, really. You were honestly impressed by the bar, its fries were amazing; crisp outside that was sprinkled with cinnamon and paprika; it was interesting, but you liked it. When Charlie came out of the kitchen with a plate full of stacked fries. The sight of all that food made you salivate slightly, your stomach growling in hunger.

As Logan finished off his tall glass of beer, he gained your attention, "I gotta piss, I'll be righ' back."

You felt a slight rush of nervousness but nodded anyway. With a gentle squeeze of your thigh, Logan slid off of the bar stool and over to the far left corner where you supposed the bathroom was located. Turning back to the bar, you picked up a fry from your plate, twisting it between your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Chewing, you glanced at the many drinks lining a shelf behind the bar. You were quickly growing bored, and you soon found yourself reading the labels of the alcoholic bottles; well, the ones that you could make out.

"What's someone like you doing in a beat-up place like this?" You heard a voice from beside you, where Logan used to be. Huffing, you mentally rolled your eyes. Ignoring the voice, you continued to stare straight ahead, and continued to eat your fries; maybe the guy would just go away, if you were lucky. "Come on, sweet thing, give me your name?" The guy spoke again, this time, much closer to you.

"Not interested." You answered plainly, becoming irritated. 

"Awe, don't be like that!" The guy exclaimed, taking the stool that Logan had occupied. "I just want to get to know you, sweet cheeks."

You didn't even glance at him as you answered with the same tone, "I got a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" The man asked, scoffing, seemingly thinking that your answer was ridiculous. "If I was your boyfriend, I'd never leave you all alone in some bar." He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing, "I don't think I could keep my eyes off you - much less my hands." 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. How typical. "Look, if you're done being creepy, I’d like you to leave me be - I'd like to eat my fries in peace while I wait for my boyfriend." You were this close to just using part of your mutation to physically make him leave you alone, but you didn’t want to bring much attention to yourself. “And, honestly, I’m doing you a favor. You won’t like whatever happens when he gets back.”

"Hmph," The man hummed, narrowing his eyes playfully - he liked a challenge - "Then why don’t you and I leave now before he gets back?" You then felt pressure on your thigh, making you snap your gaze from in front of you, to your thigh, and finally to the man. "I can show you a good time."

And before you could do anything, you heard his voice, "Hands. Off. Of. Them." And thankfully, at Logan's growl, the man took his hand from off of your thigh; as if you had burned him. 

Letting out a deep breath of relief, you looked up at Logan - who stood tall beside you, his dark eyes almost glowing with anger - his face showing pure fury, and his fists balled at his sides; his claws just threatening to escape his knuckles. 

"I was just fooling around, dude," The guy brought up the courage to speak, reaching out to steal a fry from off of your plate, "Just having some fun." But as he began to pull the fry from your plate, a metal claw suddenly stabbed the fry down, pinning it to the table with a loud ‘thud.’ The man froze, staring at the three claws as they pierced the wooden bartop. He gulped, obvious by his Adam's apple bobbing as he dropped the fry, his fingers only centimeters from the sharp claws. 

You chuckled, narrowing your eyes as you smirked, “I told you.” You taunted as the man slowly looked up at Logan, who continued to glare daggers at him; the man's eyes widened before he quickly stumbled off of the bar stool and ran away. Logan watched him go, slowly retracting his claws back into his knuckles, his blood staining them before they quickly healed. You huffed as Logan continued to watch until the man was out the bar door; your hand coming up to grab his arm. "Lo," You spoke up, gaining his attention, his head turning. You gave him a soft grin, gesturing to the bar stool, "Sit, hon." And he did, taking his seat, you could tell that he was still seething, though, less so than moments before. Taking his hand in yours, you curled his hand back into a fist, shutting your eyes as you pressed a couple of light kisses to his bloody knuckles. Pressing a last kiss to his knuckles, you sighed, opening your eyes; your eyes meeting his brown ones. "Thank you," You whispered quietly. He let out a long sigh, nodding as he looked away, but you reached out with your free hand, cupping his chin, and turning his head to face you. "Want to go home?"

He stared at you, a frown still on his face as he nodded. And so, you and Logan left the bar - leaving a couple of dollars for the drinks and fries - and then some for the slightly damaged bartop. Hopping onto the bike, you held onto the handles, feeling Logan's hands slip around your waist - protectively, his face digging into the side of your neck as you started the bike up. 

Driving down the road, you felt yourself smile as Logan's lips pressed gently against your skin, feeling his beard scratch lightly across your throat as he kissed your skin; instant goosebumps. The chill breeze was welcoming as the bike sped along the slightly bumpy roads, and you were excited to get home and sleep. And you could tell that Logan was tired too; mentally and emotionally. It wasn't until the bike pulled into the X-Mansion garage that you and Logan could finally let out a sigh. 

"Home sweet home," You said, the both of you slipping off of the bike. "I'm exhausted."

Logan only grumbled as the both of you headed into the Mansion. 

You hummed tiredly, looking down at the watch on your wrist, "It's almost seven." You took Logan's hand, interlacing your fingers with his as you walked down the Mansion halls, "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?"

You asked the same question from more than a week ago, your smile widened as you saw Logan's tired frown turn into a slight smile, "Yeah, yeah," Logan grumbled, amused, "Let's jus' get ta bed."

You nodded, chuckling, "You don't have to tell me twice."

~~~

Finally, some peace, and quiet; alone with you. With your head on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around you, Logan finally felt content. Content with just spending a quiet night in with you. No missions, no work parties, no bars - though Logan did have a beer on the coffee table - or waiting for you to get done with teaching. Just the both of you, watching a movie. And it was some fantasy movie that you got the VHS tape for. It was interesting, enough to keep Logan somewhat entertained, but not a lot. He kept finding himself looking at you for most of the movie. 

In fact, he was doing just that. The TV illuminated your face, perfectly highlighting your features. He found himself unable to focus on the movie at hand - he was too focused on you. His eyes followed your every movement - watching every little detail as you shifted. You wore a slight smile on your lips; your hand laying softly on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles onto the material of his jeans. Logan found himself smiling as he watched your actions. His own fingers absentmindedly played with the soft strands of your hair, occasionally scratching your scalp. His chest felt warm - fuzzy. 

But, then Logan noticed something. The expression on your face changed... Changed into one that you only gave him. Logan's eyebrows furrowed, watching as you let out a soft sigh, your eyes glued to the screen. Turning his head, he spotted the reason for your dreamy sigh and love-sick eyes. The man on the screen, dressed in the attire that was appropriate for the type of movie he was in, was dancing gracefully around a crowded ballroom of masked masqueraders. The man was beautiful, Logan had to admit. Beautiful, graceful, and ethereal. 

And you seemed to have thought so too, as you let out another dreamy sigh. 

Turning to look back at you, you glanced up at him, at the screen, and back at him. "What?" You asked, smiling lightly, noticing the odd look on his face.

"You're sighin,'" Logan spoke simply, making you frown slightly and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sighing?" You asked, blindly grabbing the TV remote and pausing the movie.

Logan tilted his head slightly, raising his own eyebrow as his chocolate eyes stared into yours, "You did the same sigh when you first met me." He recalled, making you huff out a little laugh, incredulously. 

"What are you talking about?" You asked, turning your body slightly towards him.

"Rogue said that ya sighed, just like that, when ya firs' met me." Logan pointed out, teasing lightly - his chest feeling warm in the process. "She said ya were starstruck."

You snorted, "Of course I was starstruck, I mean, look at you! You're gorgeous! You're tall, dark, and handsome!" You explained, pausing for a moment. "And you do have a nice butt." You added, as if it was common knowledge at this point, and it was - you praised his behind often.

Your flattery made Logan grin mischievously, "That's all ya like me fo’? My looks?" He joked, making you lightly slap his thigh in response. 

"Lo, of course not, you know that!" You spoke before becoming a bit serious as you made eye contact - Logan gulped lightly - "When I first met you, aside from your dashingly good looks, Logan, I fell for your character.” You glanced away briefly, the memories filling your mind, “You’re funny, fiercely loyal, passionate, intelligent, and a very strong-willed man." You found yourself rambling, "There's a whole lot more I could say, but it would take hours." You breathed out a small chuckle, running a hand through your hair.

Logan couldn't fight the blush that crept up his cheeks, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as you spoke; his eyes softening. "I could say the same 'bout you." He spoke honestly - fondly - his voice low and husky; almost speechless.

You hummed, leaning up with the hand on his thigh to press a quick peck to his cheek before turning back to the movie with one last tap to his leg. “I know these past months have been crazy. Work parties and loud bars… But, you don't have to worry. My fictional crush doesn't hold a candle to you."

"Fictional crush?" He muttered, glancing at the TV screen as you unpaused your movie.

 A smirk played on your lips as you turned your attention back on the TV, "I can smell the jealousy rolling off of you, hon,"

"Jealousy? I ain't jealous, bub." Logan shook his head, his arm returning to wrap around you. "Just… Surprised is all."

"Suit yourself."

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

#cute #fluff #x reader #slight angst #fanfiction #fanfic #x you #x y/n #request #requested by anon #x gn reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x gn reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x gn reader #xmen logan #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n #x-men #xmen #jealous logan howlett

[timwhore]

author note : this is just a blurb i will make an entire fic out of it! but please tell me if the concept interest you

thinking about Wolverine hate-fucking you - or more so spite-fucking you ? you are Scott's sibling and Logan just get off on fucking you out of spite toward Scott.

Scott has the girl, he likes, so Logan only think it's fair he fuck you as revenge. He doesn't really care about your feelings on the matter as long as you consent, nor if you know why he invited you to his room in the evening.

#maybe add a lil bit of angst ... like unrequired love on the reader's part #but it will have a happy ending bcuz i dont do full on angst guys (like logan realizing that he likes reader or smth like that) #x reader #x gn reader #xmen x reader #xmen x reader smut #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x gn reader #logan howlett x gn reader #xmen x gn reader

[imagine-by-susu]

Wolverine x GN!Reader - Times Trouble

Requested by @jesterstrange

Word Count: 2,828

Summary: As an essential member of the X-Men you were brought along to many Missions, until you can’t hide away how high the costs for your powers are. Your friend Logan seems to be the only to notice.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and Injuries, my grammar

Requests are open

“You look even grumpier then usual.” Rogue noticed as she leant beside Logan, his brows pulled into a deep frown. With the title of her head the woman was about to call out to him thinking he hadn’t heard her the first time but then his tense jaw unclenched before he spoke. “How’s your leg doing?” not even once did he look from the spot he seemed to be fixed on and with wonder Rogue looked down at her leg to which previously had pierced a rather long metal rod. Moving the leg back and forth a little to tests the movements Rogue shrug her shoulders before looking to the Wolverine. “As if nothing happened. Like usual when (Y/N) heals it.” Never before did Logan question the abilities of his teammate and friend and when only hummed low in response Rogue decided to make out where his eyes had fixated on. On her tip toes she stood to look from his shoulder to catch a glimpse to anything that might’ve caught his attention only to see (Y/N) in one of the jets seats, head leant back on the headrest and eyes closed shut. Rogue’s eyes wandered back to Logan who had crossed his arms over his chest leaning back against the metallic wall behind them. “Is everything alright with (Y/N)?” Logan tensed further and Rogue could’ve sworn to hear his jaw crack from the intense bite he had. It was no secret that Logan and (Y/N) became friends over time. Unlike most of the team (Y/N) had given Logan all the space and freedom he required, wishing him save travels where ever he wanted to go at the time. Not even once did they questioned him about his constant leaves nor begged him to stay. He apricated it. Which was why he had kept an keen eye on his friend the past few missions. Something felt off and even when Logan was able to pin point it exactly he just knew that something was not quiet right. So when Rogue questioned him about (Y/N) well being the only thing Logan could do was shrug his own shoulders. “You didn’t fight, did you?” already on the verge to scold the older man Rogue stood straight but Logan shook his head at that. “Haven’t spoken in some time.” Was his only response he gave her. “So something is wrong?” Rogue pushed and the silence she was greeted with was enough of an answer to her when her gaze followed Logan’s. -

You woke with a little start when the Jet rattled into a landing position. With a silent wince you pushed yourself back upright in your side to find a more comfortable position to no avail. The familiar drop of your stomach when the jet landed back on the ground had you dig your nails into the armrest of you seat. Back on the ground the group started to pack up the last of their belongings before the ramp opened to reveal the Professor and Hank already awaiting them to know about the outcome of the mission. Everyone was talking amongst themselves as they one by one left the Jet while you pushed yourself off of the seat with a groan on your lips. Your muscles felt strained like someone set them on fire and your bones felt more like tiny splinters that pierced through your skin whenever you moved. Still you took a deep breath once you stood steadily on your feet. But before you could even taken one step closer to the ramp a hand on your wrist stopped you and your muscles pulled a bit too much to your liking. So you stood there facing the ramp not daring to look at the person who stopped you. It wasn’t like you need to. The strong grip could belong to only one person. “Logan,” you sighed out still not turning to him, “I’m really tiered and would like to take shower before sleeping until next week.” His grip tightened, it wasn’t uncomfortable, but impossible to move out of without causing (Y/N) pain. “That’s what you said last time, Bub,” his voice was low and gruff, he was clearly displeased with you, “And the time before that. You gotta tell me what’s bothering you or do I have to force it out of you?” most would quiver at the threat only few, the few he trusted most to which you belonged to, would know that Logan would never intentionally hurt someone close to him. Tugging at your arm you weakly tried to get out of his grip only slightly turning to him in the attempt to do so. “Because it’s quite exhausting. Unlike you big buffoon I need to rest a lot longer.”  Any other time he would’ve let out a gruff chuckle this time though Logan only breathed a deep breath before, although reluctantly, letting go of them. “See ya around.” (Y/N) waved at him and was soon out of his eye sight. From the distance he heard a quick exchange between them and the Professor. A snarl came to his face. “Might be old but not from yesterday…” he muttered to himself leaving the Jet as well. -

In that night for whatever reason Logan might have had, he roamed the dark halls of the school. He had no idea where he was going. The only thing he could be certain about that it kept his mind far away from the nightmares that occasionally hunted his sleep. Nothing unusual for him, but recently they grew in number again and he found himself roaming the halls or raiding the fridge. Tonight however his feet at their very own accord brought him to (Y/N) room. His hand froze mid-way as he was about to knock on the wood. Something felt off. The hairs on his neck raised and a cold shudder ran down his back. Then it hit him. The unmistakable stench of metallic blood and it admitted from their room. Not a second later he bursted through the door and looked around the dark room. Still unpacked (Y/N)’s bag laid on the bed. Following the smell Logan looked over to the closed door that lead to the bathroom. From underneath the door he made out dim light. “(Y/N)?” he called out his hands clenched and body tense ready to fight any threat that he would find behind the door. “(Y/N) can you hear me?” the lack of a response caused only more worry to flow through his veins. Logan pushed down the door handle but the door didn’t butch. His jaw clenched and a bit more frantic he tried to push open the door. “(Y/N) open the door!” his voice was steady, demanding even but the undertone revealed how his nerves sky rocketed with each passing second. After another attempt to call to them and pushed himself from the door, took a step away and with a deep breath he kicked the door open with full force. Claws already extended he stood in the doorway fists up in defence. At the sight before him Logan’s train of thought stopped from a hundred miles per hour to an ultimate stop. The white tiles on the floor were covered in red as was the rug in front of the shower. In said shower said (Y/N) their back on the wall, eyes closed and skin ghostly pale. Not caring about the blood that soaked his jeans up he knelt down do them. “(Y/N)!” he called out shaking their shoulder but unconscious body only fell forward which Logan caught in his arms quickly. He felt the familiar feeling of blood covering his hands and with a curse on his lips and pulled (Y/N) into his arms. Once or twice he almost slipped on the bloodied tiles as he pushed out of the bathroom calling out to his friends. Jean and Scott were the first to arrive and while Scott was ready to tell Logan off he cut himself off quickly at the sight of a blood covered Wolverine with an even bloodier (Y/N) in his arms. “What happened?!” Jean asked quickly pushing (Y/N)’s bag from the bed and motioning for Logan to bring the body over before ordering Scott to fetch Hank and the Professor. “I knew that something was wrong! They wouldn’t tell me and now …” Logan let out an angry growl after he had placed (Y/N) into the bed. Jena was quick to hover over them one quickly glancing to Logan. “No time for that now, we need to stop the bleeding.” -

“I don’t get it. (Y/N) can turn back time, they could easily reverse their wounds, right?” Rogue paced back and forth. Professor Xavier shook his head in deep thought. “Like many of us (Y/N), too, doesn’t necessarily understands the extent of their powers.” “They could’ve asked for help!” Logan spoke up, he was still covered in blood. “Time traveling or not! Wounds like this can’t go unnoticed for long without consequences!” Rogue stopped in her pacing at Logan’s voice that grew in volume with each word. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted when the door opened and Jean and Hank walked out. The entire team that had gathered outside the door perked up with questions written all over their faces. “Well?” Scott pushed forward tapping his foot impatiently. Jean let out a sigh but nodded. “(Y/N) will be alright. They lost a lot of blood, but nothing I could fix for now.” Jean glanced at Logan whose shoulders slumped a little. “What they need now is rest.” “Did they say anything? Did they tell you what happened?” Rogue asked looking between Jean and Hank who both shared a look. This time Hank answered. “They were awake but only seconds maybe. We need to ask them when they regained some more strength.” “Bullshit.” Logan cursed under his breath and gained the attention of the rest of the group as he pushed from the wall he leant on and stamped his way down the hall. -

You woke up with a start. A feeling of a Deja-vu hitting you like a brick wall. Pain shot through your side next and the confusion was replaced with shock. Despite the pain and protest of your body you sat up in panic. For just a second you wondered about your whereabouts before you recognized the familiar interior of your bedroom. When the realization hit black dots started to appear in your vision. Involuntarily a pained sob left your lips. You wrapped an arm around your middle feeling the rough texture of bandages wrapped around you. The ever so present pain didn’t keep your mind too focused on it though, not even the sound of the door opening and footsteps entering could pull you out of the pain fogged state you were in. It was Jeans face you recognized first as her hands held your cheeks to force your eyes to focus on her. Her lips were moving but her voice was muffled to you as your vision blurred again this time with tears to which Jean attempt to whip them away. A sting went through your thigh which you barely registered and minutes later the pain ebbed into a dull throbbing. The tears subsided and Jeans voice calling out for you finally reached your ears. “(Y/N)?” a hoarse hum came from as a response and with a relieved sigh Jean hugged you. “What happened?” you muttered into her shoulder trying to gather any memories. You stepped out of the Jet, you had talked with Xavier and then went straight to your room… “I hoped you could answer that question.” Came Hanks voice from the other side. From the corner of your eyes you saw him putting away a syringe. The little sting must’ve came from there. “Logan found you bleeding in your bathroom.” Jean explained after she pulled away from you. Confused you blinked at her for a second before slowly realization crossed your face. There was no way out any more. Your friend were already worried enough, they had seen you bloodied, probably half dead from what Jean had described. It was only fair to be honest with them and so with the help of Jean you leant back in the bed to rest your body a bit more before you started to explain what had transpired before Logan had found you. “I was just tiered, well I thought I was, but…” your stubbled a bit over your words when you looked down to your bandaged waist. “I must’ve been hit on the mission, I don’t really know…” Jean shook her head at this. “But why didn’t you rewind the time?” pulling at your sheets you avoided to look at her or Hank who eagerly awaited an answer from you.

“Because it doesn’t work on them.” It was Logan’s voice at the doorway that had you all looking up. He was displeased, no you noticed it was far worse then that. Logan was disappointed. An angry Wolverine people dealt with, it was nothing unusual, but a disappointed Wolverine was a whole other story. “We should leave you two to it.” Hank coughed out and motioned to Jean to leave the room and even after the pair left there was an uncomfortable silence shared between you and Logan. He stood in front of your bed, arms crossed over his chest and looking down at your with anger in his eyes. “Logan I…” you started but stop yourself. No apology in the world could justify your actions. Despite his very own fear of losing yet another person he cares deeply about he opened up to you, told you about his nightmares and saved your life in multiple occasions. And you thank him by distancing yourself for reasons that you yourself weren’t quite sure of. “What were you thinking?!” he pressed out the words between clenched teeth, his frown deepened further. Like a kicked puppy you looked away from him. “Oh I see, you weren’t thinking at all, why should you?” his words hurt but you knew he had all the right to be mad at you so you wordlessly took it. “Don’t you trust me enough to help you?! Don’t you trust any of us? Do you even realize what would’ve happened if I didn’t happen to come across your room?!” You bit your lip. “I do trust you…” you mumbled, “I trust all of you…” but Logan wasn’t finished. “And people tell me I’m irresponsible! Damn it (Y/N)! How long?!” close to the end he yelled glaring down at you. “W…What?” you looked into the general direction of his face still not ready to look into his eyes. “How long has this been going on?!” he asked again. “And this time you should be honest with me, Bub!” Taking a shaky breath you looked away from him again. “…Well…more or less since…my first mission.” Ashamed you closed your eyes ready to listen the Wolverine out lashing, but nothing came. His claws shone in the light of the room yet he stood still. For a moment in the way he stood there he could’ve been nothing more then a statue. His eyes he had closed opened again. “And I thought you trust me…” his voice was at a normal volume again the disappointed however felt like a knife that twisted in your gut. “I do..” you responded. ”I trust you more than anyone else …” “Then why? Why didn’t you tell me? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” you shook your head. “No reason in this world would excuse the behaviour I showed. Maybe I just wanted to spare you more grief.” Logan rolled his eyes before he sat at the end of the bed, the mattress giving in at his weight. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at you. “I should’ve known that getting close to you will end one of us in the end.” A moment long you stared at his back. “Then why are you still here?” the question was out before you could think twice about it and the muscles in Logan’s back tensed. “Because no matter how far away I go, I’ll always find my way back to you.” His large hand wandered over the soft sheets and grasped one of your hands that rested in your lap. None of you expected his lips grazing your knuckles in soft and small kisses. But when you didn’t pull away from a light smile tugged at the corners of his lips. His eyes wandered from your hands to your arm and to your eyes. “No more secrets.” As demanding as he wanted to sound it felt more like a plea, his eye begging you and with a soft smile of your own you brushed your free hand from his ear down his cheek to his chin. “No more running away.” Was your response before your lips met in a soft kiss.  

#wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #x reader #x-men #x-men x reader #requested #gn!reader #times trouble

[make-me-imagine]

If You'll Have Me

Prompt: “What is it about me that isn’t good enough?” Requested By: @spuffyfan394 (Mystery prompt Brown 10)

Pairing: Logan Howlett x GN!Reader

Plot: Y/n can no longer handle hiding their feelings around Logan, convinced that he still has feelings for Jean. So, they decide it might be best if they leave for a while. Logan, who overhears this, tries to convince Y/n to stay, not understanding that he is the reason they want to leave.

Warnings: Self-doubt and lack of confidence from reader.

Words: 1.8k

-

You tried to stop yourself from looking, but your curiosity and anxiety kept forcing your eyes back to them. The tightness in your chest was almost unbearable as you saw Jean giggle at Logan's comment. Logan had a familiar fond smile on his face as he looked at her.

No matter how many times the others tried to convince you that Logan was over Jean, and that Jean held no feelings for him, you couldn't help but doubt it.

Jean was everything you weren't, and you doubted that Logan ever saw anything as appealing in you, as he did in Jean. You never saw him look at you the way he looked at her.

Tearing your eyes away from them, you forced yourself to walk away, to go somewhere else. You needed to get him out of your mind. You were tired of the pain you were causing yourself every time you thought of him. You hated that you allowed your fondness for Logan to evolve from feelings of friendship, to a desire for more.

He made you laugh, and smile more than any other. He made you feel safe, and brought out your strengths when you doubted yourself. He was a great and loyal friend, but you wanted more. You wanted what you could not have, and it hurt more every day.

You were unaware of Ororo's eyes on you as you made your way up to your room. She frowned as she saw how clearly upset you were about something.

As you got to your room, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. Letting out a long breath you sat on the edge of your bed and looked out the window. You wouldn't cry. You refused. This was your own fault, and you would hold it, let it teach you a lesson.

Hearing a light knock on your door, you felt uneasy. With your luck that wold be Logan or Jean. Neither of which you wanted to see right now. You stayed quiet, and still.

"Y/n? It's Ororo."

You let out a breath of relief as you heard her voice. Standing, you walked to the door, and slowly pulled it open, meeting her concerned gaze.

She smiled softly at you. "Are you okay? You seemed pretty upset."

Letting her enter the room, you closed the door behind her, wondering if you should tell her. Looking over at her, you saw her watching you patiently.

Shaking your head, you walked back towards the window. "It's stupid."

"If it made you upset, it's not stupid. Come on Y/n, I'm your friend, talk to me."

Sighing you sat back on your bed, waiting for her to sit beside you. You spoke cautiously, with a hint of shame. "I just saw Logan and Jean together, talking and laughing and I just...let it get to me. And I know that your just gonna say there is nothing between them, and that they are just friends. But the fact is, that there was something between them. At least from Logan's side. And I don't think that Logan could ever feel that way for me. Not like he did for her. And I hate that I have these feelings, and I can't make them go away."

Reaching over, she set her hands over yours. "There is nothing wrong with feeling Y/n. Even if it hurts. I wish I could tell you that you're wrong, but I can't. I don't know if Logan see's you like you want. I know that he adores you, that he appreciates your friendship and that he would never purposefully hurt you, but I also know that might not be enough."

You nodded your head softly. "Sometimes I wish he didn't think about me at all. That I was nothing to him. That would make it easier to accept. But he treats me so kindly, and I know he cares for me, but it's hard knowing I feel more than he does." Looking down at your feet, you let out a long breath.

----

Logan walked towards your room, hoping he would find you there. He had expected you to be in the library or sitting room, but found you in neither. And no one seemed to know where you were. He had begun feeling an odd sense of restlessness the longer he went without seeing you.

He slowed in step as he heard your voice from inside. Were you with someone? In your room, door closed? He felt jealousy clench at his chest, as he listened closer. He probably shouldn't, he was invading your privacy, but he couldn't help himself.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Ororo asked.

Logan felt relief wash over him, it was just Storm. Deciding he should leave, he began to turn away when your voice met his ears and he stopped.

"Is there any chance you can send me somewhere else?"

Logan felt his heart palpitate, as anxiety filled his chest. You wanted to leave the school? Why? What was happening?

"You think leaving would help?"

He heard you sigh. "I don't know, maybe? I mean, I wish I could get out of my own head about it. But I just can't stop doubting myself. These stupid thoughts plague me every day, every time I see him. I can't stop thinking, what is it about me that isn’t good enough?"

Logan felt his chest tighten. Who were you talking about? Had you been with someone and he didn't know it? Did you break up with them? No, it sounded more like they hurt you. Why hadn't you told him? He felt a mix of anger and jealously wash over him.

"If that's what you really want, I can talk to the Professor. Maybe he can send you somewhere for a while."

"Thanks Ororo."

Logan turned to leave, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't just let you leave. Why couldn't the bastard that hurt you leave? Who was it? He knew most of the teachers, but never really recalled seeing you with one more often than the others.

He'd have to talk to you. Convince you to stay. He couldn't imagine this place without you, he would hate it. You made it so much better. You were the heart of this place to him, you made it feel more like home for him. He couldn't let you leave.

-------------

Staring out at the school grounds as the light of the full moon cascaded over the trees, you wondered if you really should leave. This place as your home, you loved it. But you hated that most of your days were spent with an ache in your heart.

Hearing a soft knock behind you, you turned to see Logan leaning in the doorway, watching you. You felt your chest tighten.

"Hey." He said softly.

"Hi." You responded with a soft smile before you looked back out at the campus grounds.

Logan walked over to you, and leaned on the balcony beside you. "I've been looking for you."

Your heart palpitated 'Why?' You glanced over at him "Oh yeah?"

"I wanted to see if you were alright."

You felt a pang in your chest. Finally looking over at him, you feigned confusion. "Why wouldn't I be alright?"

Logan smiled softly at you, "I was looking for you earlier today too, and I went to your room to see if you were there. And...I overheard your conversation with Storm."

You felt anxiety cascade through your chest as you tried to keep your face from showing your shock. Before you could speak, Logan continued.

"Look, I don't know what jack-ass hurt you, but there is no reason you should let him chase you away. This is your home and you can't leave. Not because of anyone."

A sense of realization washed over you as you figured out he had only heard the end of your conversation with Ororo. He had no idea the guy you had been talking about was him.

"Logan-"

"I know you are going to try and make excuses, but listen to me." He faced you "You are the best part of this place, if anyone should leave it's him."

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you let out a laugh as you ran your hands over your face. "Logan-" you shook your head "I was talking about you."

You saw a mixture of confusion and realization cross his face. You knew you couldn't stop now, so you started to explain to him what you had been holding back.

You took in a deep breath before you started. "My feelings for you changed months ago Logan. But I can't keep ignoring them, and pushing them aside. Especially when I have to see you and Jean every day. Living with the uncertainty of how you feel about her. And knowing that you can never feel the same way about me. Knowing that I can never be what you want. "

Logan felt an almost overwhelming mix of guilt, confusion and excitement as he listening to you speak. He never thought that you felt anything for him, not like he felt for you.

"This is my home, but I can't keep feeling like this. So maybe it's best if I leave for a while, just so I can get over this-"

You were cut off as Logan suddenly stepped forward and grabbed you, pulling you against his chest as he kissed you. Your mind went blank as you felt shock wash over you. By the time you fully grasped what happened, Logan pulled away, staring down at you.

"I'm sorry." He said softly. "All this time I had no idea that you felt anything for me, or that you thought I still had feelings for Jean. But I don't, I promise I don't. All feelings I've had recently have been for you, and no one else."

You opened your mouth to speak, but struggling to find words. "I- for me?"

He nodded softly as he gently caressed your face. "I wanted to tell you, to show you. But I didn't know if I should. I was afraid it would ruin our friendship. But if I had known I was causing you pain, I would have told you, I'm sorry that I hurt you so much you thought you had to leave."

You shook your head. "It's not your fault Logan, I know you never would have hurt me on purpose." You paused, before speaking softly with a hint of uncertainty. "So, you don't have feelings for Jean?"

He shook his head softly. "I haven't since I got to know you. Me and Jean are just friends, nothing more. I don't want anyone but you. If you'll have me that is."

A smile spread slowly across your face and you nodded lightly, "I'll have you."

He grinned down at you as he brought his hands to your hips, pulling you closer to him. As your chest pressed against him, his lips met yours. You felt a great sense of excitement and relief flow through you as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

xx End xx

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @caswinchester2000, @imaginesfire, @rexit-mo, @onuen Marvel Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney (@trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @byersboys, @flourishandblotts-inc

#Logan Howlett #Logan Howlett/reader #Logan Howlett x Reader #X-men #Xmen #X men #wolverine x reader #wolverine/reader #xmen/reader #xmen x reader #xmen reader insert #x men fic #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x gn!reader #logan howlett oneshot #angst #fluff #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett x you #logan howlett/you #xmen x y/n #xmen x you #marvel reader insert #mcu #marvel fic #xmen imagine #x men imagine #logan howlett imagine

[v-cain]

"Christmas Morning"

A/N: merry fucking christmas *tears down calendar that says it's June* sorry to everyone who requested fics that i blatantly ignored, i have had an excruciatingly stressful year, and i feel like if i wrote said requests they wouldnt turn out the best they could be. ENJOY!!!!! (also fucking finally got around to writing erik omg yaayyyy)

Fandom: X-men

Warnings: Swearing (probably), Dogs, Brief joke about murder, Mentions of alcohol (let me know if i missed any)

Pairings: (All Platonic) Logan Howlett x gn!teen!reader, Hank McCoy x gn!teen!reader, Scott Summers x gn!teen!reader, Kurt Wagner x gn!teen!reader, Jean Grey x gn!teen!reader, Jubilation Lee x gn!teen!reader, Charles Xavier x gn!teen!reader, Erik Lenhsherr x gn!teen!reader

----

It was early on Christmas morning. Scott had woken you up at 6am and dragged you down the stairs to open presents with the rest of your friends. You decided that your present to him this Christmas was not murdering him for this act of treachery (and a small painting of Scott depicted as one of Snow White's dwarves).

You curled up on the couch with your loving dog Edo, half asleep, as everyone exchanged gifts. A pile of presents and wrapping paper were slowly building up on the floor. So far, you had received a pair of fuzzy socks that Kurt had crocheted, the Twilight book series from Jean, a Snow White colouring book from Scott, and a new glitter-pen stationery set from Jubilee. Among those gifts you also had a thick leather-bound notebook from Professor McCoy, "The Art Of War" by Sun-Tzu from Erik, and a pair of novelty dice from the Professor. You weren't sure why you got that last one but you appreciated it all the same. As the group surrounding you chattered and joked, your gaze drifted towards the door. Logan had gone on a trip a few weeks ago, with the promise of being back before Christmas. So far he had yet to make an appearance, which was worrying you, but you tried to focus your thoughts back to your friends.

----

As the day went on, you found yourself glancing over to the door every few minutes, hoping Logan would walk in at any minute. You were currently trying to distract yourself by playing with Edo outdoors in the garden, despite the freezing cold. It wasn't working as well as you had hoped, as your mind still wandered and worried about Logan. Plus, your hands were getting numb.

As you throw a ball for Edo to catch, you hear someone walking up behind you. You turn, and are greeted with the site of Erik Lenhsherr, who has a mixture of a kind look and a "What the fuck are you doing out here in the freezing cold on Christmas?" look on his face. You knew Erik pretty well, despite the fact he had only moved into the mansion a few months ago, and the pair of you shared many pleasant conversations (which were all almost entirely about philosophy, western literature and cat memes.) You turn back around and watch as Edo runs up to you, a happy expression adorning his features.

"Might I ask why you aren't inside with everyone else?" Erik asked, watching Edo drop the ball in front of you, before his gaze turns to you. You pick up the slimy ball and pelt it across the yard. You watch Edo sprint after it, then deciding to say "Just thought I should appreciate nature at it's finest, s'all." You hear Erik sigh, and you turn back around to face him. His smile was gone now, instead replaced by creased eyebrows and a downturned mouth.

Erik shifted his shoulders, pondering what he should say, then sighed again. "I know you miss Logan, Y/N." Your gaze turns to the frost tipped grass as Erik continues, "And I know it's hard not having him here with you on Christmas." Erik pauses before saying "But I also know that if Logan were here, he wouldn't want you outside in the freezing cold, especially not alone." He paused again, then simply said with a small bit of worry evident in his voice "Come back inside, Y/N." You watch as Edo drops the ball further away and chases a bird around. You bite your the inside of your cheek, thinking for a moment, before agreeing "Ok." Erik smiled and patted you on the shoulder. "I'll see you inside." He turned and started walking away, then called after him "And put some gloves on!" You huff a small laugh and then whistle for Edo to come over. 

----

It was now the late evening. Most of the younger kids had gone off to bed a while ago, so the living had the older kids and some of the teachers inside. An old re-run of 'Home Alone' was playing on the crappy TV that looked like it was around longer than Logan. Edo was curled up beside the fireplace, a content look on his face. Jean and Scott were leaning against each other on the couch, talking quietly amongst themselves. Jubilee and Kurt had gone to bed as they both apparently wanted to keep on track with their "sleep schedule", and wouldn't stay up for just another half hour. What a bunch of losers, you thought as you pulled on the socks Kurt crocheted for you.

You walk out of the living room, wandering down the hall towarss the main entrance. As you round the corner, you see the door open and Logan step in, covered in snow and rain. Your once bored expression turns into one of pure glee as you shout "LOGAN!" before barrelling into the man. Logan lets out a small 'oof' as you hug him, you wings wrapped around him. He hugs you back and says in his usual gruff manner "Missed you too, kid." You release him from your death grip and grin up at him, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "I have a present for you!" Logan raises an eyebrow, but before he can question the gift, you grab his hand and start dragging him towards the living room. As you walk, you ask Logan about where he went, and what it was like, and did he see any cute dogs, and did he take any photographs. He tried to keep up with your rapid fire questioning- that he was somewhat used to, after over a year of knowing you- when you arrive in the living room.

As the rest of the room greet Logan and make conversation with him, you walk over to the far corner of the room where you stashed your present for him during the morning. You fished out the present from behind a few books, which was brightly wrapped in pink wrapping paper, and had a pink bow stuck on top. As you turned around (nearly knocking over a vase with your tail due to your enthusiasm) you caught Erik throwing a questioning look at the present. In return you stuck your tongue out at him, to which he rolled his eyes and turned back around to Charles. You walked back over to Logan, who was standing near the fireplace, and stood in front of him. Logan looked down at you and raised an eyebrow when he spotted the present.

You thrust the present into his hands before holding your own behind your back. You smiled, slightly nervous, and said cheerfully "Open it!". Logan carefully unwrapped it, to reveal a mug. He turned the mug around and read the print on it, and laughed heartily. You grinned and laughed a bit yourself. "I'll use it everyday." Logan said, smiling down at the mug. The mug in question read; 'May contain Whiskey, Vodka and/or Beer' You had found it in a novelty gift shop a few months prior and thought it was perfect for Logan.

As you two talked, Logan thought about how grateful he was to have a little brat like you in his life. Sure, you could be a pain in the ass- especially when he was trying to teach you Maths- but you were a sweet kid. He didn't know where he'd be without you, his reminder to keep going and stick around. Meanwhile, you thought about how your life had been tipped upside down like a glass of water when you first entered the school, and then how quickly it was refilled. Your life had become so much better as you built your new home, your new family, that you loved so dearly. You were eternally grateful for your family, and hoped it would stay this way forever- filled with hugs, dogs, jokes, happiness and cat memes. Though, as you were surrounded by your loved ones chattering away, you had the dreading sense of feeling it wouldn't.

#xmen gn!teen!reader #logan howlett x gn!teen!reader #kurt wagner x gn!teen!reader #charles xavier x gn!teen!reader #jubilation lee x gn!teen!reader #jean grey x gn!teen!reader #scott summers x gn!teen!reader #hank mccoy x gn!teen!reader #erik lenhsherr x gn!teen!reader #platonic x reader #platonic xmen x reader #platonic xmen #no romance #finally learned how to use “see more” feature #dragon!reader #dragon reader xmen #xmen #platonic #worth mentioning this was meant to be posted at christmas #and i just never wrote it... sooooo CHRISTMAS IN JUNE #christmas fic

[chiefdirector]

Skinny Love (just last the year) | Logan Howlett | X-Men

Soulmate au: shared marks

Tw: self harm, illness, eventual death, and suicidal thoughts

The concept of soulmates had fascinated scientists across the Earth for many millennia. The fact that two souls can be bound across plains of space and decades of time led some to fall into religious answers and some into doubt about the whole ordeal. How can you be fated to someone who hasn’t been born? It is fate or is it an entity controlling everyone, everywhere

Those who followed religion found comfort in the unknown, because of their soulmate is God’s will, how can I be wrong?

The doubters, or realists as they would have you know, say that it by chance you’ll see someone with the same mark because fate, nor luck or fortune, could predict

Logan was a realist.

He knew that the world was not giving, kind, or pleasing; it wasn’t even cold, demanding, or abusive: the world was indifferent. It didn’t care if you lived or died, or in the manner you did as such. It didn’t care if you laugh, cried, or something in between. The Earth didn’t care if you had a soulmate, it didn’t care at all.

The little mark on his wrist had been there from before Logan could remember. He had been told that he was one of the lucky ones, as humanity progressed, soulmates became more sparse and therefore more enchanting. Once, Logan had marvelled at the fact that someone could be his in all ways but as he grew older (and slowed aging at the same time) he had come to think that they had already passed and gone.

On particularly lonely nights, he fruitlessly clawed at the little constellation on his wrist, the pain bringing a sick comfort in place of what he needed from his soulmate.

Some nights, as much as it goes against his entire being, he thinks that he would’ve been better off if he hadn’t met his soulmate. Then he would be able to go back to the fickle loneliness he once resented as he knew that it was paradise compared to what was coming for him.

The eventual meeting of his soulmate had shocked Logan to his core, he had given up and accepted that he would die alone. And then they came.

They came and changed everything Logan had ever known: up was down, left was right, yellow was blue. But he couldn’t accept it so he ran as far as he could.

God did he wish that he hadn’t run.

Maybe if he knew how much time they had together he would’ve stayed and made the most of the extra weeks. Maybe he would’ve noticed the tiredness and nausea sooner, maybe he could’ve gotten them to the doctor sooner, then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t be terminal. He might’ve saved them.

After the nausea and fatigue eventually developed into vomiting and more hours being spent asleep than awake. The sickness caused their muscle mass to deteriorate like sand slipping through a timer. They were slowly being taken from him, and he was helpless to do nothing but watch.

Hank had said that he could try and find a cure for this mystery disease as doctors began to refuse treatment, saying that their symptoms lead to nothing. They abandoned them as he once did and he’d be damned if someone would leave them in their time of need.

Hank had said that he could find someone, and it would be done in the early days of the new year. He had said that they needed to hold on just a little bit longer.

So Logan found himself praying to a God he knew found no faith in, in hopes that if anyone, anywhere, could help his Love that they would. He swore to every god and goddess he could name that he would give anything, including himself, for her to survive this. He vowed to be a faithful servant for the rest of his days, he vowed to do anything on Earth. But he received no response.

He then took to their bedside, whispering his solemn prayers, their hand in his as he repeated his invocation and repented all of his wrongs. He did this as if they could save himself as if they were the only Divine being he believed in.

The days trailed on, and Logan watched as his soulmate grew weaker, wasting away in front of his eyes. Logan could remember the nights when watching them grew too painful and how he longed for the days when he resented the little constellation on his wrist but as he watched the gently rise and fall of their chest, he knew that he would suffered through ever gruellingly painful memory over and over again if it meant that he could see them smile like they used too.

“Come on,” he found himself whispering into their hand as he clutched them tight. “Come on. Don’t leave me.”

Christmas came and went, Logan barely noticed. He had stuck up a crappy little tree with lights that barely worked just in case they woke up long enough to notice. In better health, they would’ve chastised Logan for his lack of holiday spirit; he could hear their voice in the back of his head. Oh, how he longed to be scolded by them once again, if only to hear their voice without the deathly rattle that came out when they breathed.

“Come on.” He found himself pleading once again. “Come on. Just last the year and it’ll all be better. You’ll be better. You just need to hold on a little longer. Please.”

But not even Hank could reverse the irreversible. Logan watched as Hank came just a few hours late. He was still grasping their hand as he burst in. Watching the colour drain from Hank’s face was worse than watching her last breath as this made her death real. It cemented it in a reality in which Logan didn’t want to live.

If he could, he would’ve joined her in the stars. Logan had lived many lives and he never knew that something was the last time until it’s already gone and passed. And by that point he was already begging for the moment to come back.

Masterlist

#chiefdirector #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #james howlett x reader #xmen imagine #xmen headcanon #xmcu #I’ve had this idea bouncing around for a while. #gender neutral reader #gn reader #no use of y/n #marvel #fic #oneshot

[urween]

Others

⤵

Wolverine/Logan Howlett

"Un temps neigeux" /FTM reader \\ "Un temps neigeux" /partie 2

"Quatre secondes" / FTM reader

gifs : @/heroes-daily

#ftm reader #gn reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett

[mythnix]

Wolverine - First Meeting

Male reader meets Logan at a small-town bar. Content includes alcohol and mild drug references, a kiss, and the barest hint at future nsfw activities.

You let out a heavy sigh as you settle onto a stool at the bar. The bartender on duty acknowledges you with a nod, but seems busy at the moment, so you lean forward, cross your arms across the bartop, and settle in.

Not the prettiest small town en route to Winnipeg, but you don’t know which needs more of a break from driving - you or the car. You’ll need to find a gas station pretty soon, too… though you figure the bartender might be able to point you in the right direction once the bar clears out a bit, and you’re more than comfortable waiting an hour or two until that happens.

After a minute or two, he finally makes his way over with a quick apology for the wait and a menu. You arrange the menu in front of yourself with little intention of looking at it, but ask for your usual poison - a double of whiskey, green tea, and a splash of lemon juice. The bartender looks at you a bit weird, but nods and heads off.

You turn and watch the bodies in the bar move about. Not a soul seems out of place. It’s almost a form of theater - they move fluidly in a sort of dance, surely practiced over decades. A few meet your eyes and nod politely, one or two with a smile. None acknowledge you beyond that, but that’s fine by you.

There’s a tap on the counter and you turn to see the bartender placing your drink. “You ain’t from around here,” he says, matter-of-fact. It might be rude if it wasn’t accurate. “You in town for business or pleasure?”

You half-shrug in response. “Business, I’m afraid.” Not this town, but another… shit, maybe 6 hours away. “Hell. Both, if I’m lucky.”

The bartender chuckles politely. You have no doubt he’s heard that one before, but it’s not old on your lips yet. He gestures at the menu. “Given that any thought, chief?”

You shake your head. You get buzzed faster on an empty stomach, and the sooner the ache in your muscles alleviates, the better. “Maybe in a bit,” you manage, “I’m thirsty more’n anything.”

The bartender flashes an authentic smile. “Take your time. You know where to find me.” A regular raises her empty glass on the other side of the bar and he ambles away with a wink.

You settle into your drink. It’s good whiskey - smokey and sharp, pairing especially well with the tea. You wince when the alcohol hits the inside of your cheek you were chewing at a few hours ago.. You mentally curse traffic, and double-curse your own idle tics. Your eyes close on their own as the drink makes its way down to your stomach, lighting flesh on fire as it goes.

You get a hit of smoke before the cold breeze hits your back, followed by someone brushing close by your shoulder to settle on the stool to your left. He lifts his head at the bartender, who immediately begins making a drink in response.

“Ain’t seen that one since Chongqing,” the newcomer says. You slip a sideways look and nod politely, a question reaching for your lips. He looks like anyone else in this bar - maybe a century back, actually - but he doesn’t sound like the rest. Nor does he sound anything close to Chinese. The bartender appears before the question gets out though, and it dies on your tongue.

“Thanks, bub.” the man says, accepting the drink and immediately raising it to his mouth for a drink. You take a better look at him as he drains half the pint.

Shorter than you initially thought, given how broad he is. Really short, in fact. And really broad. You idly wonder if he’s a professional weightlifter, but avert your eyes as he lowers the drink, and affix your attention on your own glass.

Unfortunately for you, it seems you weren’t as sneaky as you thought. “Like what you see?” the guy asks. You feel your neck getting hot, but you bury your face in your drink so you don’t say something stupid. He chuckles - not exactly a musical sound, but incredibly enchanting regardless.

“Didn’t catch yer name,” the man says. It doesn’t sound like a threat, but you feel like being cautious until you can get a better look at him..

“You didn’t ask,” you finally manage, swallowing the last of your drink and raising your head to look him in the eye with a slight grin. He raises an eyebrow, turned sideways on his stool, leaning on the bar on his left elbow and clearly appraising you.

His hair is tucked under a cowboy hat, but a lock of it curls over his ear towards a strong and wide jaw, covered by sideburns pulling into muttons. His eyes twinkle, just as dark and wild as his hair- if not also somehow tired. Chest hair sneaks its way above the plain tee he’s wearing under a flannel, unbuttoned and with the sleeves pushed up. His legs are spread in a pair of worn jeans, and you’re almost sure he’s suggesting something by it. You consider for a second, and although there’s a sense of imposed calm about him, you get the sense that he’s seen some shit. Probably done some shit.

It’s a good look on him, you decide. 

You summon confidence from the light buzz beginning to alight along your veins and smirk. “It’s Y/N.”

His lips quirk in return and he extends his right hand. You take it and shake, squeezing a bit harder than you typically do, but only to match the strength of his own hand. It seems to have a positive effect on the guy, as his smile widens. “Logan,” he says. It’s a nice, classic name. Old, too, but he can’t be older than his mid-40s, you think.

Not unless he’s--.

As if on cue, some old guy in the bar curses. Something about “damn mutants” and “gas prices”, though you can’t really fathom what the connection is. You glance at Logan and watch the sparkle in his eye fade. He turns back to the bar with a controlled exhale and buries his face back in his drink. You idly watch the turmoil in the back of the building - the people with the old guy seem like they’ve heard this more than once before, and are trying to shush him.

You become aware of the bartender’s presence as he pulls the empty cup and coaster from you. “Anything else for you?” he asks. The smile feels a bit forced now. “Put any thought on food?”

You shake your head politely. “That’ll be all for me, thanks.” He nods and heads for the register.

Logan eyes you as you shuffle about in your pockets for change and drop a handful of bills on the counter. “For me and this guy,” you gesture at Logan. “Keep the change.” The bartender nods, and you adjust your coat and dip your head in Logan’s direction. There’s a look on his face you can’t quite tell, and you feel eyes on your back all the way to the exit.

The cold November air hits your face and chest as you open the door, and you shove your hands in your jacket pockets and will your teeth to avoid clattering. The car’ll be cooled down by now. Your left hand comes into contact with the nearly-empty box of cigarettes and you pause.

A little longer couldn’t hurt.

You slip around the side of the building and lean against the cool brick, slipping the end of the cigarette between your lips and digging about in your pockets for the lighter you knew you had on you.

Blast. Must be in the car.

You push away from the wall to head for your car, but get distracted by a flash of light illuminating a familiar face. He reaches the lighter towards your cigarette and you gratefully accept, relaxing back against the building.

You take a puff and a long drag before removing it from your mouth and exhaling.

“Couldn’t let you leave without saying thanks,” Logan says, standing squarely in front of you. You idly note that the way he’s standing might feel awkward for you, but he seems at ease. You offer him the cig and he accepts it, taking a hell of a long drag and almost putting out the light.

“No need--” you begin to say, but halt as he reaches up and grabs the collar of your shirt, yanking your face down into a kiss.

His lips are rough and his stubble scratches at the skin around your mouth, but no less sharp than the alcohol on his tongue and smoke on his breath. You lean into the kiss, grabbing at the front of his flannel to steady yourself.

It feels like an eternity before you pull apart, Logan exhaling the remainder of the smoke. He pops the cig back into his mouth for a quick puff before handing it back.

Breathless, you watch as he turns with a wink and ambles towards a motorcycle that wasn’t next to your car when you pulled in. He lifts one leg over, settling forward on the seat and kicking the kickstand back, then looks back at you.

“You comin’?” he calls.

For a second, you almost drop the cigarette, jog over, and settle on behind him. But you sigh and look off towards the highway, knowing full-well you’ll need to be up early tomorrow. You have a day full of meetings ahead of you. Corporate ass-kissing and endless buzzwords in some feverish race to appear more relevant than the other suited figures.

He revs the engine and rocks the bike a bit.

Ah, hell.

You drop the end of the cig and grind it into the rubble. You’re walking, not entirely sure which vehicle you’re headed towards until you find yourself settling in behind Logan. He chuckles, a rumble in the chest shimmying against you. He revs the engine again, this time easing the vehicle forward. Your hands find his waist as you pull onto the road, bike growling between your legs and warmth against your chest and loins.

Yeah, you think.

Business can wait.

#gn reader #sfw fic #mythnix fic #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader

[ichorai]

as it was ; logan howlett.

track seven of WASTELAND, BABY!

pairing ; logan howlett x mutant!scientist!gn!reader

synopsis ; you first met logan as weapon x, wiped clean of any memory of his past life. he had nearly killed you then. and now, almost two years later, he’s pressing kisses over the very same scars his adamantium claws had inflicted.

words ; 9.1k

themes ; angst, fluff, action, mutant au, scientist au

warnings / includes ; descriptions of violence and gore, death, blood and injuries, alcohol, smoking, emotions™, logan calls you 'bub' and 'darlin', reader has the ability to manipulate matter, reader is a scientist, based on marvel comics presents: weapon x issues #72-84, mentions of the brotherhood and the rest of the x-men, charles is your bff :D, not accurate x-men timelines </3

main masterlist.

You pressed your knuckles into your tired eyes, wincing when bright colors exploded behind your eyelids. Gingerly, you blinked to adjust back to the brightness of the laboratory’s artificial lights, stifling a wide yawn with the back of your palm.

It was your shift to watch him. Weapon X.

Everything was deathly silent, other than the rhythmic beeping of the machine in front of you. The machine that told you he was still alive. Still breathing.

You shifted in the leather chair, swallowing the uncomfortable lump in your throat. 

The man—was he even a man anymore?—laid motionless and limp within the vat. His features, softened with unconsciousness, were still rugged and intimidating, nearly hidden by the hundreds of wires sticking out of his form. 

They brought you in just a week ago, so you were still getting used to everything here. The other scientists in the facility had told you that the man was a volunteer for the Weapon X project—that he needed to be given an adamantium skeleton or his own mutation would kill him from the inside out. Being a mutant-in-hiding yourself, you felt a certain calling to help him out.

So if you were helping this man recover, why did it feel so wrong? 

Biting the side of your cheek, you slipped out of the chair and strode up to the vat, resting a hand on the glass barrier. It was cold beneath your fingertips. 

You could’ve sworn you saw his foot twitch—

The door to the lab whooshed open, and the head scientist, Dr. Cornelius, strode in, shooting you a humorless look, wordlessly telling you that your shift was over. 

Pursing your lips, you pulled yourself away from the glass, sparing the man in the vat one last glance before stepping back to the chair to gather your things. 

“Anything interesting to note?” the old man asked you. 

You clicked your tongue against your teeth. “Nothing at all for the past couple of hours, Doc. He’s responding exceptionally well to the chemical bath.”

He made a disinterested noise, as if the prospect of things going well bored him, before sinking into another chair and heaving a large sigh. 

Hesitant, you stepped forward to ask, “Doctor? Sorry, I was just wondering if I could ask you some questions.” It was about time you knew just what was going on here—there was definitely something that he wasn’t telling you.

The man lifted his gaze to you, seeming annoyed already. “What is it?” A scowl threatened to play by the corner of your lips, but you forced on an indifferent expression. 

“I just… I keep thinking about him.”

“Who? Logan?”

His name was Logan. He had a name. Well—of course he did. You suddenly felt sick.

“Yeah. I keep thinking about what we’re doing to him.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but wisely chose to remain silent, goading you to carry on.

The machine beeped. You glanced at the unconscious man in the vat. 

“Before I came here… was he—was Logan—here? And I don’t mean him as Weapon X. I mean it like the man before this. Was he here?”

“No,” Cornelius replied, far too quickly for your liking. He averted his gaze, focusing on the machine in front of him. “I don’t know. What are you asking here, kid?”

This time, you didn’t bother to suppress the frown budding across your face. “I mean,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, “did Logan sign up for this?”

“I already told you,” Cornelius gruffed out, “he volunteered.”

“And why should I believe you? Why have you named him Weapon X if all we’re trying to do is cure him? Why did you have to erase his memories? Why have you been forcing him to fight wild animals in the forest? Are you making me attach adamantium to his skeleton because you want to help him, or because you want to manufacture a mindless killing machine?” Your voice had raised several notches in volume, and the doctor seemed to recoil at your words. Sucking in a breath to calm your erratic pulse, you spoke again, “You’re not telling me something, Cornelius.”

The doctor, stunned into silence, took several moments to gather what he wanted to say. A rebuttal was just on the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would be fruitless. 

You’ve figured it out.

And he would have to kill you for it. 

“Was he abducted? Kidnapped?” you asked again, voice strained.

“Congratulations,” the doctor sneered, slowly rising to his feet. “You’ve put together the puzzle pieces.”

Bile rose in your throat. “Logan was forced into this. He didn’t want any of it. You… you’re trying to make a monster but—you’re the real monster here.” Slowly, you started backing up. “You were using me. You knew that I wouldn’t help graft the adamantium to his skeleton if I knew the truth. You’re insane. You’re sick.”

With a mangled cry, the doctor lunged forward, knocking you to the ground as his palms found your throat. Pain flourished through your spine as it thudded against the sleek tiles of the floor, a strangled sound crawling from your lips. You clawed at his hands at first, desperate and losing air far too quickly. 

Then, you grappled at his face, scratching at his cheeks until blood welled in tiny droplets from the red marks you drew. This only seemed to enrage him further, fingers pressing harder into your trachea. Dark spots danced about your vision and you gasped for breath, eyes misting over with unshed tears. 

Fuck. You needed to do something. Quick.

Maybe… your powers—

No. No, you’d find another way. You refused to lose control of yourself ever again.

The chair was right beside you. If you could just… hook your foot around one of its legs and tip it forwards…

Your mouth fell open as your lungs begged for mercy, limbs growing weaker with each passing second. You gave it your all to jerk forward, just enough to shift you down and catch the chair with your foot and yank it forwards. 

The heavy metal seat tipped forward slowly, before giving in to its own weight and crashing on top of Cornelius. The bald man howled with pain, and his grip loosened on you momentarily. You hiked your knees upwards and slammed them into his stomach, shoving him away with a yell. Your chest heaved raggedly, greedily swallowing as much air as you could take. 

The doctor was quick to recover from his initial shock. You thought he’d lunge for you again, but instead, he brandished a walkie talkie and yelled, “CODE RED, GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW! CODE RED!”

Without a damned clue what ‘code red’ meant, you rushed forward and slammed the emergency lockdown button on the control panel. A haggard sigh of relief left you when thick metal slabs slowly lowered down over the doors.

Cornelius, infuriated, grabbed the back of your head and shoved you down, slamming the side of your face into the plethora of buttons. A loud groan of pain ricocheted across the laboratory, blood seeping from one of your nostrils and slipping into your mouth, running a metallic copper taste along your tongue. He did it again, and again, and again, far too quickly for you to even begin to react. Faintly, you registered a whooshing sound in front of you—one of you must’ve accidentally hit the button that released Logan from his chemical bath. 

You spat blood over the buttons with a snarl, reinvigorated, shooting your hands out to stop him from bashing your face in once more. Twisting your body, you kicked at his knee as hard as you could, which made Cornelius collapse forward. You messily drove your fist into his eye socket, pushing him back, away from the control panel. The doctor fell onto the ground and you kicked at his skull with the heel of your shoe. 

There was blood dripping down your chin. Your nose was throbbing. You were disoriented, vision splitting into blurry duplicates. Dizzy, you dropped to your haunches, crawling as far away as you could from Cornelius.

Noises were coming from the other side of the lab. Where Logan was.

Wincing, you were just about to turn to look before Cornelius’ hand wound around your ankle, yanking you to him with surprising strength. He punched you in the shoulder first, trying to aim for your face. You flailed your limbs, attempting to kick your feet, but he had trapped your legs between his. A struggling whimper shook your lips, breaths coming in fast, staccato beats. The second time he punched you, he hit you dead on. Your vision went dark for a good ten seconds. You could tell one of your eyelids had already swollen shut.

Desperate and panicked, you lurched upwards and bit into whatever you could. You sank your teeth in until red squirted straight into your other eye, and copper flooded your mouth once more. An ear-piercing scream rattled through the lab.

As you furiously wiped away the dark ichor from your eyes, you realized that he wasn’t screaming because of you—not really, at least.

He was screaming because there were three adamantium claws protruding from his abdomen.

And just behind him was Logan.

A terrified garble tore through your own throat. A string of nonsensical words fell from you—ranging from cries for help, prayers to whatever god would listen to you, and incoherent sobbing as pure terror ripped through you, whole and consuming.

There were still wires hanging off of the man’s starkly naked form, dragging against the ground behind him. His skin glistened with the residue from the chemical bath, droplets still falling from his damp hair and rolling over his defined muscles. With a near animalistic growl, he threw Cornelius’ lifeless corpse to the side, his adamantium claws streaking down both your arm and your side in the process. Another wail erupted from you and you curled into a fetal position, cradling your injuries and fruitlessly trying to put as much pressure as you could against the wounds. Blood seeped from you, staining the once-pristine floors with a growing pool of liquid rubies. You were light-headed, tilting your head up to look at Logan standing in front of you. Horror painted your insides with a thick, tar-like substance. 

He made no move to hurt you any further, only regarding you with dark, distant eyes, like he just could just barely recognize your face. He remembered you.

You wanted to plead—beg him for mercy.

You cracked your shaking lips open, but the words lodged firmly in your throat, a sob rippling through your lungs. Hot tears streamed down your bloodied cheeks in fat dollops. 

The mutant surprised you, then. 

He spoke.

“I am…” he croaked out, seeming slightly miffed. It took him another couple of seconds to articulate his next words. His brain had been fried over and over again, the English language was something he had nearly completely forgotten. “I am… dead? I remember… death. Dying.”

You were shaking uncontrollably now. Whether it be because of the terror, or because of the insurmountable blood loss, you weren’t quite sure. Most likely both. 

Voice warbling, you croaked out, “No, Logan. You’re not dead.”

His dark pupils darted to the pool of blood by your side, then moved down to his own hands and claws, practically soaked red. His chest heaved. 

Slowly, you raised a trembling hand to point at the winding metal staircase at the back of the laboratory. “Run, Logan,” you hoarsely whispered. “They’ll be here any minute. You have to go before they catch you again. Go upstairs—there’s a rear window you can escape through.”

The man narrowed his eyes at you. 

He stalked away wordlessly, leaving only droplets of Cornelius’ blood in his wake. 

The tension melted away from your body instantaneously. The urge to cry laid heavy on your conscience, but you shoved down the tears and slowly pushed yourself to your feet, placing pressure on your wounds as you staggered onto your feet. With a grunt, you limped to Cornelius’ corpse, kneeling down to rip his belt and shirt off. 

A low groan rumbled from your chest when you tied the belt over the deep gash Logan had inflicted on you, wrapping his shirt tightly over the leaking wound on your waist. Whether it was an accident or a purposeful move, you had no clue. Immediately, blood seeped through the fabric. You decided not to pay it any mind. 

Faintly, you registered shouting from the other end of the barricaded door. You were running out of time. 

Huffing a curse, you struggled to your feet and stepped over Cornelius, bee-lining for the metal staircase. Upstairs, you could see the droplets of blood Weapon X had left behind. You swallowed heavily, before following them to the open window. 

“Fuck,” you coarsely spat out, glancing down to see snow blanketing the ground nearly at knee-length. Trembling already, you hopped off the windowsill and onto the fire escape’s ladder, gingerly placing each foot on the lower rung until you were near enough to jump down.

The wind whispered frost into your ears as you looked forward, into the dark forest. 

They would kill you if you went back inside. It seemed like you had no other choice but to follow Logan. He was your best chance at survival.

Your sigh misted into an opaque fog as you followed the trail of blood on the snowy forest floor. 

It’d been hours. 

You had lost nearly all sensation in your feet, numbed by the frigid cold. You supposed that was one upside of the frost—you could no longer feel the pain of your wounds, despite the large blooming of crimson seeping through Cornelius’ shirt. The lids of your eyes were heavy, drooping closed every few seconds before struggling back open. You wrapped your arms around yourself lethargically, struggling to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

Logan was only a couple minutes in front of you. At least—you thought he was. Hell, he could’ve been five hours away by now, considering how out of it you were. 

You swallowed your throat, dry and scratchy from the whipping wind of the forest. 

Not even ten steps later, you found yourself tipping forward, succumbing to the exhaustion. 

The snow was suddenly flush against your cheek, the world now angled vertically. Black spots danced about your sight. You only barely registered the pain of hitting the ground, a wooden stick poking uncomfortably against your leg. You couldn’t be bothered to move. You couldn’t feel anything—yet it felt like you were burning alive. Perhaps it was the blood loss. Maybe the shame of failure. Or it could’ve simply just been the fact that you’ve been wading around in the snow for hours. A small breath slipped from your lungs and your eyes fell shut. 

A nap wouldn’t hurt… would it?

Just as the corners of your vision waned dark, the shadow of a figure loomed over you. 

The last thing you felt right before you succumbed to the cold were a pair of warm arms winding around you.

Lights—far too many, far too bright. Your heavy eyelids narrowed as soon as they blinked open, and you gingerly turned your face to the side to avoid the glare of the harsh luminosity. 

There were a couple things you registered in your early stages of rousing. You were no longer cold, bundled in several layers of woolen blankets on what you presumed to be an infirmary bed. You could feel the slight pressure of a proper bandage around your waist, which still throbbed but wasn’t nearly as painful as you remembered. 

And there was a man in a lab coat beside you.

You stared at his back as he busied themself with colorful pills and bottles. Your throat was so dry, it took you several moments to muster yourself to croak out a warbling, “Hello?”

The man seemed to jump out of his shoes, turning abruptly with wide eyes behind thick, rectangular spectacles. “Oh, you’re awake! How are you feeling?” He shuffled to your side, watching you with evident concern.

You winced as you propped yourself up on one arm, slowly pulling yourself to sit up on the bed without putting too much weight on your wound. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

He pursed his lips. “That’s unfortunately quite expected—you’ll be feeling that way for a little bit before you get better. You took quite the beating out there—I tried my best to patch you up but I’m afraid the lacerations you got on your abdomen and arm will scar forever. Those bruises on your face, however, will be gone in a week, two tops.” The man paused, as if wanting to ask you a question, but thought better of it, shaking his head. “I’m gonna call somebody here to come talk to you. And I’ll go get you some water and food. Is that okay?”

Still reeling over everything, you nodded slowly, watching as he strode out of the infirmary. 

Not a minute later, you heard the smooth rolling of wheels against tile. A bald man on a wheelchair swiftly entered the room, greeting you with a genuine smile and a bow of his head. 

“You must be Doctor L/N,” he said, stopping just by your bedside. “I’m Charles Xavier. Now, I’m sure you have many questions—so let me try to answer them. You’re currently in Xavier’s School of Gifted Youngsters. I sensed your distress through my own telepathic mutation and had some of my X-Men go pick you and Logan up.”

At the mention of Logan, your muscles tensed, and your gaze snapped upwards to meet his. 

“Logan… he’s here?”

Charles tilted his head, thinking back to the burly, pacing man in his office. “Yes, quite.”

“Is he okay?” you asked softly. 

A wisp of a smile graced Charles’ lips. “He’s fine. A bit disoriented, but his memories are steadily returning. You, I’m more worried about. I know you’re a mutant, Y/N.”

Something dangerous flashed behind your irises. “I’ve never purposefully used my powers on anyone, if that’s what you’re asking. What happened to Logan—was because I was foolish enough to trust bad men.”

“I’m not blaming you, Y/N. You thought you were doing the right thing. Besides, the group who tricked you have been apprehended by the X-Men. They won’t be conducting anymore experiments on mutants,” he said, not unkindly. “I wanted to give you the liberty to explain what your mutation is… and if you can control it.”

“It’s only happened once before,” you whispered, fiddling with your nails anxiously. “I can manipulate matter, I think. Rearrange atoms and molecules in space. Once I start, I can’t control it—so I don’t ever intend to use it again.”

Charles regarded you for a moment, before nodding. “That’s quite the commitment. Would you mind me asking why?”

You hesitated, your teeth worrying into your bottom lip. “The first time I found out about my powers, someone died because of me. There was a car crash and my friend tried helping me and I… I panicked—” Tears quickly blurred your vision and you hiccuped, stopping to furiously wipe them away. “Shards of glass flew everywhere and…”

You trailed off, releasing a frustrated sigh. 

“The cops ruled it as an accident, but I knew it was my fault. I moved out of town, started doing research with a university in molecular biology in hopes of finding out more about myself, when I got an offer to work with this company that ‘helped’ mutants. They lied to me. They were experimenting on them—and I should’ve known better. I thought I was saving Logan’s life.”

Charles hummed in thought, before shaking his head. “It’s not your fault. It was an accident—you didn’t know how to control your powers. But we can help you with that. If you stay, that is.”

Mouth parting in surprise, you leaned forward slightly in confusion. “You… you want me to stay here? After everything I’ve done? What will Logan think?”

“He knows it’s not your fault. There’s a reason he didn’t kill you—and a reason he carried you through the snow until we found the two of you. The deal is still on the table—just think about it. You’d make a valuable asset to our team.” A genuine smile etched over his face before he asked, “Would you perhaps want to see Logan?”

“No!” you exclaimed, a little too quickly. Charles’ eyebrows rose. Arms wrapping around yourself, you gently shook your head, repeating in a quieter tone, “No, thank you.”

The man observed you rather pensively before humming, “Alright, then. I’ll let you get some rest.”

“Thank you.” Despite the tautness of your tone, Charles knew you were wholly grateful. He bowed his head, and wheeled out of the infirmary room, leaving you with your thoughts.

To none of his surprise, leaning against the wall right next to the door, was Logan.

There was a cheap cigar wedged between his lips, hands clutched over the dog tags around his neck. He cocked his head to Charles as a greeting, gruffing out, “Are they alright?”

It was rather amusing to see such a brooding, stoic man lose his wits over a person he barely knew. Logan cared about you, and that made Charles all the more curious.

“I think Y/N’s going to be just fine.”

Logan huffed in something akin to relief, blowing out a puff of opaque smoke. After a long stretch of silence, Logan queried in a strained voice, “Can I see them?”

“It’s best if you give Y/N some time. They’re still a bit rattled over everything,” said the professor, patiently. “Have you gotten your memories back?”

“I think so. I remember most of my life before getting kidnapped. I taught self defense here, right?” Logan muttered, though it was clear he wasn’t entirely sure of himself. When Charles grinned and nodded, Logan spoke again, hesitant. “I remember Y/N. Their face, watching me through the glass. Talking about curing me—helping me. I remember the doctor there trying to kill them once they found out the truth.”

A low growl rumbled within the grizzled man’s chest, and he slumped further against the wall. “What are you going to do with Y/N now?”

“Well, that’s up to them. They are a mutant after all—I offered them a place here. Whether they stay or not is not for me to say.”

This seemed to pique Logan’s interest. “Y/N’s a mutant?”

“Yes,” Charles stated matter-of-factly. “Though, they don’t use their powers because it’s far too dangerous. Which is why I proposed that they stay so we can help. Now, if you excuse me, Logan, I’ve got to grade some papers. Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” replied Logan, distant. He saluted Charles with two fingers as he wheeled away. “G’night.”

The rest of the X-Men warmed up to you rather quickly. Hank would joke around with you while he did your daily check-up, and Jean, Ororo and Anna introduced themselves with sweet smiles and baked goods that they made just for you. They’d stay with you in the infirmary until late at night, playing boisterous rounds of Uno and exchanging stories of their own childhood mishaps with their mutation. Kurt Wagner was a delight to speak to—you quite enjoyed your conversations with the lively teleporter. Scott Summers was a handsome fellow, who had acquired a broken arm from a training accident, which gave him a good excuse to hang around you. Charles often visited you as well, each time asking once again if you were planning on making your residence here permanent. He even offered you a job to teach the kids here some science—which you kindly declined.

The friendly nature of the mansion and the people residing there really made you want to stay. 

But you knew you shouldn’t. 

Especially not when Logan was so clearly avoiding you—it was a tell-tale sign that you were definitely overstaying your welcome.

You’d only seen him a small handful of times since you arrived. Lingering in the hallways, passing by the door, and once in Charles’ office when you dropped by to ask him a question. He had stalked away with nary a sound, not even bothering to spare you a glance.

So it was quite the surprise when he stepped into the infirmary while you were packing a small duffel bag with travel necessities nearly two weeks later, practically bristling at the thought of you leaving. Leaving when he hadn’t even said a single word to you. His jaw clenched.

“L… Logan?” you asked, nearly dropping the shirt you were holding out of shock. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

He stared at you for a long while, unsure of what to say. The man was on his way to a bar for a beer or two before he caught sight of you practically flying across the room in a rush to pack. He was not prepared for this conversation at all. A part of him wished you could just read his thoughts like Charles could, because his mind was running a mile a minute. There were just too many things he should’ve said, too many things he waited too long to say. And none of it seemed to want to come out.

So he opted to heave out a grand sigh, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, not once breaking eye contact with you. You had awkwardly resigned to folding the last few pieces of clothing, stuffing them into the bag. 

The action prompted Logan to husk out, “You’re leaving.”

It was more of a statement than a question. Your muscles tensed at his voice. He seemed angry—frustrated—and you weren’t entirely sure if it was directed towards you, or himself.

“I have no place here,” you whispered, words nearly lost to the deafening silence. 

Logan’s brows furrowed. “This is a school—a home for mutants. You belong here.”

Fixing him with a curious expression, you zipped up your bag, shaking your head. “It’s not fair to you, Logan. I can’t just keep pretending that me being around doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“So you’re leaving because of me.” Logan pushed off the wall, stalking towards you until he stood just in front of you. This close, you could smell the faint cigar smoke on him, accompanied with a fresh pine-like aroma. He smelled like the forest, like sitting in front of a fire place with a mug of coffee cradled in your palms. A lump formed in your throat, grip tightening on the strap of the bag.

“I’m leaving for you,” you corrected. “And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did all those awful things to you. I know it doesn’t absolve me of anything but—I really did think I was helping you. Oh… and thank you. For coming back and saving me.”

The hardness to Logan’s features seemed to soften just a bit. He watched you keenly, studying the genuine tenderness to your eyes, the way your lips screwed to the side in a fruitless effort to stave away the tears. 

“Hey,” he said, stepping even closer. “I forgive you, bub. I forgive you, alright? Stop beating yourself up. Charles told me you thought you were helping me—and I believe it. It wasn’t your fault. Besides, the man truly responsible is dead, thanks to you. You helped me escape, remember?”

Your eyes flickered from the ground to meet his. “Of course I remember.”

A low rumble resonated from Logan’s chest. “If anything, I should be the one apologizing for damn near killing you. I found you passed out in the snow and I—I was terrified. I carried you, worried to death the entire time, thinkin’ you were going to die on me. But Charles found us—and you lived. We both lived. I want you to stay. Hell, if you want to leave, then go ahead. The door’s wide open. But don’t let it be because of me.”

He watched as your shoulders trembled ever so slightly, then sagged as you loosened your hold on the duffel bag. Relief seeped through his bones. For a moment, he was scared you were really going to leave.

Without another word, Logan nodded, stepping back. He turned to walk out of the infirmary, itching for nice, cold beer. Or two. Probably five. Oh, who was he kidding. He could blaze through twenty bottles and barely feel buzzed.

“Logan,” you called out.

He stopped by the doorway without turning.

“Thank you,” you croaked, wiping away a stray tear. A happy one. Maybe you could even ask if the job Charles had offered you was still on the table. 

A minuscule smile played by the corner of his lips. He ducked his head, and strode away.

ONE MONTH LATER.

The snow was thicker than ever before. Nearly everybody was outside, either making rotund little snowmen with carrots for noses or playing a game of dodgeball. You caught sight of Kurt teleporting just above Rogue to dump a large armful of snow atop her head. You huffed out a laugh from behind the window when she started spewing out a long string of curses, cheeks tinted red from the cold.

Movement from your peripheral vision made you turn your head to look out the other window. You were met with the lovely sight of Logan hauling lumber nearly double his size from just over the hill, a layer of snowflakes icing the top of his dark tresses. You shook your head, wondering why he hadn’t asked anyone for help.

Ever the lone wolf, he was.

Commotion from the other window made you turn once more, watching with a snort when the kids began pelting Logan with dozens of snowballs, laughing with unbridled glee. The chuckles died away when the burly man dropped all the wood he was carrying, rolling up his sleeves with a wolfish grin. They screamed, scurrying away whilst hiccuping with laughter. 

“Quite chilly outside,” Charles’ voice broke out from beside you. “Come have a hot chocolate with me.”

“If this is your way of bribing me to grade your classes’ papers, I’ll have you know I’m not easily swayed,” you teased, though fell into step beside him as he led you into his office. “I’ve got my own class to attend to.”

Despite only knowing Charles for around a month now, the two of you have grown very fond of each other. He was like a big brother to you—just as the rest of the X-Men had gradually become your family. 

The professor scoffed. “That was one time! I just wanted your expertise, was all.” He gestured to the array of mugs on his desk, then to the thermos right beside them. “Please, help yourself. Paper grading wasn’t really what I wanted to discuss with you. I have another proposition to make you.”

You arched a brow while pouring the both of you a generous serving of thick, creamy hot chocolate. “Always with the propositions, Charles,” you said, sipping on your drink with a hum. “What is it?”

“I want you to join our missions.”

The lighthearted nature of your conversation visibly seemed to sour. “What?” you asked, placing your mug down. “Charles, I thought we made this clear—”

“You don’t use your powers, yes. I’m well aware. Let me rephrase. I want to help you… er, reacquaint yourself with your abilities. Just to try it out. And perhaps if all goes smoothly, you’d make a remarkably valuable member on our team. I promise, if we try it out and things go south, I’ll let it go. Never speak a word of it to anybody.” There was an earnest tone to his voice, hopeful and contagiously optimistic.

Your finger traced the rim of the mug, pursing your lips in thought. “Just to try it out?”

He nodded. “Just to try it out. I’m curious for you, Y/N. Haven’t you ever wanted to be able to control your powers?”

“More than anything in the entire world,” you murmured quietly, voice cracking. 

It took me a while to control my powers, too, Charles said, but his lips weren’t moving. It took you a moment to realize that he was speaking to you telepathically. The key is patience. And I do believe with enough time, you can gain control of yours as well. Imagine how many children who are struggling with their own mutations you’d be able to help if you had a grasp of your powers. 

“You’re one hell of a motivational speaker,” you snarked after a moment to mull over his offer, despite the smile fiddling at the corner of your lips. “Alright, Charles. You convinced me. When do we start?”

The large, antique grandfather clock in your office merrily trilled thrice just as the hands turned to three in the afternoon. You glanced away from the homework papers you were grading, before filing them away for you to finish off later. You were in need of a long overdue break. Rising from your chair, you groaned softly as your bones popped with the stretch, rolling your shoulders to ease the mild tension. 

Training all night with Charles yesterday certainly took both a physical and mental toll on you.

You needed to get out of your office for a bit—take a walk to clear your head. As you donned your coat and a dark yellow beanie to tuck just over the top of your ears because they grew particularly cold in the harsh winters, you strode out the doors. 

Before you could make your way to the snowy outdoors, you passed by one of the training rooms, where you heard a familiar gruff voice.

Logan was teaching a group of about a dozen kids—self-defense class, if you could recall. He was moving his arms about animatedly, demonstrating with a dummy that seemed to be a brush away from falling apart. The kids were watching with rapt fascination, gasping in unison when Logan speared the poor thing straight through the abdomen. 

A small grin splayed over your features as you leaned against the doorway.

A young boy raised his hand, asking, “When are we gonna be able to practice?”

Logan sheathed his claws and crossed his arms. “I’ll let you practice with your own dummies next week. But for now you just watch and learn—Y/N? What’re you doin’ here?”

Blinking at suddenly being shoved into the spotlight, you sheepishly stepped forward and waved to the kids. “Just wanted to see what all the fuss is about with Mr. Howlett’s famous self-defense class. Heard it’s the students’ second favorite class.”

“Oh, yeah?” Logan chuckled, arching an eyebrow to the rest of the class. “And what would be their favorite, then?”

You grinned. “Mine, of course.” The kids groaned in protest, though laughing at your blatant sarcasm. You waved them away with a roll of your eyes. “Oh, hush. You guys love science.”

Snorting, Logan propped his fists onto his hips and directed a roguish grin towards you. “It’s not a competition—even though they obviously like me better.” He turned back to the dummy with a nod. “Anyways, where was I—er, yes, Rogue?”

The student’s arm was stuck up in the air, an excited grin painted over her lips. “Why don’t you and Professor L/N try dueling each other? I’m sure it’d teach us a lot more than that dummy,” Rogue drawled in her thick Southern accent. The rest of the students murmured their agreement, bobbing their heads to the idea. Besides, they were all curious about your infamous mutation—they’d never seen you in action before.

Immediately, your stomach dropped and you were quick to shake your head just enough for Logan to see. His features seemed to soften with understanding. 

“That’s enough, settle down,” Logan gruffed. “Professor L/N came here to watch, it would be unfair to spring an entire demonstration on them without any warning. The dummy’ll do just fine. Look, it’s in tip-top shape!” His burly fist wrapped around the dummy’s throat.

And the head popped right off.

Logan blinked, stunned. The class burst into laughter. You joined them, hiding a smile behind your palm. Logan watched you keenly, before a crooked smile broke through his rough features, chuckling lowly under his breath.

“I’m sorry about them,” he said, making his way to you once he had dismissed all his pupils (though not before assigning them a butt-load of homework that made all of them groan exasperatedly). “I know you weren’t expecting that.”

Waving his words away, you were quick to shake your head. “No, no, it’s alright. I’m just… not entirely comfortable with using my powers yet. Charles and I are still working through it—I’m not really at the stage of combating an experienced mutant as yourself. Anyways, I don’t want to keep you. I’m sure you’ve got a ton of school-related errands to run.”

You crossed your arms with a hesitant quirk of your lips to assure him that you were okay, watching him keenly as he tried to mirror your expression. It came out more as an awkward stretch of his mouth, so he dropped it soon after. 

Logan sucked on the rooftop of his mouth, before stoutly nodding, and turned around to walk away. You’d mentioned he probably had school-related errands to run. Hah. As if Logan ever worked outside of the classes he taught. All he had in mind was to head over to a bar and drink as many beers as the barkeeper would allow him. 

By the time he reached the doorway, Logan abruptly stopped in his tracks. He could feel your eyes watching him go, practically searing the skin on the back of his neck.

“God damn it,” he whispered quietly beneath his breath. He couldn’t just leave you alone. Not when his class thrust you into the spotlight like that. Definitely not because he felt an irrepressible urge to spend more time with you. And especially not because he thought that little grin of yours was so darned cute. Of course not. 

He turned back to you with a set expression, jaw clenched tight. If you didn’t know any better, he appeared to be angry. Or constipated. One of the two.

Either way, you were surprised to hear him addressing you by the doorway, in a brusque tone.

“The school day’s over. I’m heading out to grab a drink. You wanna come with?” 

It took you a moment to respond, a little too frazzled to formulate a coherent thought.

“Yeah,” you finally answered, slightly breathless. Logan pointedly looked away when you beamed at him. “Yeah, I’d love to.”

His thigh was pressed up against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off of him through his jeans. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, which leaned against the bar’s countertop, palms cradled around his tenth (or was it his eleventh?) frosty mug of beer.

You were slowly nursing your fifth drink, snorting into the rim when Logan made an off-hand comment about how stupid Scott looked on one of their most recent missions. 

“I take it you don’t like him?”

“Who?” Logan asked, turning his head so he could look at you. Beneath the dim amber-glow of the bar’s lighting, your skin appeared flushed, eyes just a tad brighter. You were too damned close to him. 

Nose wrinkling, you nudged his shoulder with yours. “Scott, dummy.”

His eyebrow rose. “Why, do you want me to like him? Do you like him?”

The questions made you splutter beer all over the counter as you choke-laughed, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “You’re not answering my question, Lo.” You began giggling again, before downing the rest of your mug, swaying slightly on the leather stool. Logan had half a mind to clamp his palm over your thigh to keep you from tipping over. 

“I like Scott, yeah. He’s nice. I know he has a thing for Jean though—I’ve been trying to convince him to ask her out but Scott keeps saying it isn’t the right time. Jean likes him all the same, too. They’re just really stupid.” A fond smile grew on your lips and you began laughing once more. 

Logan watched you in amusement, just before ordering another beer for himself. You were a giggly drunk, Logan realized, as you buried your face into your hands as uncontrollable laughter shook through you.

“Alright, that’s enough drinks for you. What’s got you crackin’ up, bub?” Logan sighed in part-exasperation and part-mirth when you leaned back so far your stool began to capsize. He was quick to shoot his arm out and yank you back forward. This only made you laugh harder, for reasons unbeknownst to him. 

“I just—” You had to pause to heave a breath through your cackling. “Your hair just looks so funny—why does it stand up like that?” 

God, you were so drunk. Your hand reached out to pat down the tufts of hair sticking upwards, but missed the mark and instead brushed over his jaw, slightly prickly with day-old stubble. 

Logan watched you carefully as your laughter died away, a strange look shadowing your once gleeful one. His eyes flickered down to your lips, which were parted ever so slightly in thought. “You look much younger than you used to—back in that tank.” 

Gently, he captured your wrist and stroked his thumb over your palm once, before setting it back down by your side. “Let’s go home. You’re drunk.”

“Yes, sir. ” You mock-saluted as he helped you off the stool and offered his arm when you nearly toppled over your own feet. 

You swayed to and fro when walking back to the mansion, hiccupping between every giggle as you told Logan about this one time Kurt teleported into the kitchen and scared you so badly you hit him with a frying pan. Logan let himself laugh at that one.

By the time the two of you reached your room, a good night was right on the tip of his tongue before it was yanked away from him when you grabbed him by the shirt collar and tugged him towards you in a drunken fashion, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through your system. A startled noise fell from his lungs, and the corner of your eyes wrinkled as you smiled. You swiftly planted a soft kiss to his cheek, nose slotted right against his cheekbone. He was frozen to the spot, unsure of how to react. 

“You’re a sweetheart. Good night, Lo,” you murmured into his skin with a lopsided smile. 

You were drunk. So very drunk.

Logan had to remind himself of this when you pulled away. You wouldn’t have done that if you were sober. 

The door groaned as you pushed it open, moonlight spilling over your features. You promptly slammed the door in his face, and he heard you giggling behind it just a second after.

He wasn’t able to snap out of his reverie until an entire minute later. 

“G’night, bub,” he mumbled, knowing full and well that you were probably passed out on top of your bed by now. No doubt you’d have a raging hangover tomorrow. He shook his head, before heading off to his own room, a warm sensation clawing at his chest.

The familiar voice of a certain professor rang out across the kitchen, and you groaned at the sudden noise. The hangover headache pulsating through your skull wasn’t nearly as bad as it was when you had initially woken up, but it was still there. And Charles most certainly wasn’t helping.

“Morning,” he exclaimed with a knowing smile, eyeing you with a look you misliked. You grumbled under your breath, before shoveling a spoonful of scrambled eggs into your mouth so you didn’t have to respond to him. Charles didn’t seem to mind, continuing his amiable chatter. “I noticed you weren’t in last night.”

Humming in confirmation, you lifted your mug to guzzle down more apple juice. 

“Funny coincidence,” Charles quipped, wheeling up right beside you. Without even looking at him, you just knew that his eyebrows were raised suggestively. “Logan was also nowhere in the mansion yesterday.”

You scowled, then set the mug down. “We just had a couple drinks together.”

“Mmh, right.” Charles narrowed his eyes, clearly in disbelief. “Well, nice to see that the two of you have… warmed up to each other. I’ve got to head back now but don’t forget about our session at three—just because you’re hungover doesn’t mean you can skip out on me.”

A discontent noise erupted from your lungs and you stuck your tongue out at his back when he turned away. 

“I saw that,” said Charles, amusement lacing his tone. “Well, I didn’t actually see it. I know you did it, though.”

And with that, he left. 

You groaned, before lowering your head to rest against the cool kitchen countertop. 

A moment later, a voice disrupted the rare-found quiet. Logan. 

“You alright, bub?”

When you lifted your face up, you blinked away the colorful blurs spotting your vision, Logan coming into view. He was wearing a simple white tank top tucked into a pair of faded jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. You eyed his biceps warily, which glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. You swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat. 

“I’m good. What’re you up to?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Logan replied sheepishly. “Was in the training room all night.”

He leaned against the doorway, a mild smile itching at his lips upon observing your disheveled state. Your hair was mussed, wearing a simple wrinkly white shirt and a pair of grey shorts. The expression on your face told him that you were still working off the hangover.

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked, patting the seat beside you.

Logan pursed his lips, before moving towards you. “Yeah,” he said, swinging his leg over the chair. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The cold of the porcelain sent a shiver up your spine as you slumped against the toilet seat, grumbling under your breath. Logan watched you keenly as he dampened a towel, bunching it up in his hand, kneeling down in front of you. 

Your first mission as an X-Man was nothing short of disastrous.

You’d warned Charles—told him you weren’t ready to use your powers in an uncontrolled setting—but he’d assured you that you’d be fine. Besides, the rest of your teammates were there for you.

Except the Brotherhood had taken down everybody else and you were the last person standing—and you lost control of your powers. Again.

It wasn’t until Logan stumbled towards you, pushing through the tornado of glass shards whirling around your hyperventilating form, barely even noticing the cuts appearing over his skin. His healing factor was quick to weave together the broken skin—all that mattered was getting to you. Your explosive powers were enough to severely alarm the Brotherhood, and they thankfully retreated soon after your outburst, though he doubted they’d stay away for too long. 

Logan had grabbed you, pulling you close until your face was flush against his chest, cradling you atop the cold, hardened dirt, mumbling sweet nothings that you couldn’t really make out into your hair. When the air stilled, you pulled your face away, tear-stricken and bloodied. 

The incident was far too similar to the first time you used your powers—when your best friend’s life was taken as a consequence. 

A single, searing tear meandered down your face at the memory, and you bit down on your lip to quell the sob rising in your throat. 

“Hey, bub.” Logan took your chin between his fingers, grounding you back to reality. It was just him and you—in a small bathroom. He was close, so close that you could see the buzzing lights reflected in the burnt umber of his irises, or how he had a small, faded birthmark just beside his left eye. He tilted your head up so you’d meet his concerned gaze. “It’s okay. You did good. You drove ‘em away. We would’ve all been in hot shit if it weren’t for you. Storm was knocked unconscious, Kitty and Rogue had their powers stripped away, Scott was no match against Quicksilver, and the rest of us were this close to being ripped apart. You did good.”

Your stomach lurched uneasily. “Feels more like I fucked everything up. I told Charles I wasn’t ready.”

Instead of a reply, Logan merely sighed, shaking his head. Softly he swiped the damp towel across the bloody gashes on your face, his fingers on your chin moving to cup your other cheek. His palm was cold against the flushed heat of your face.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered, the usual gruff tone of his voice nowhere to be found. “Wish you had the healing factor instead of me.”

“Nah,” you replied softly, wincing as you leaned forward, closer to him. The large slash over your abdomen from a broken metal pipe Magneto sent hurtling your way burned with every shift of your body. “You’d be dead a thousand times over if it weren’t for your healing factor. And I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

The towel on your cheekbone paused for a second. Logan scrutinized you for a moment, before returning to the task at hand. “Yeah, I guess I’m glad, too.”

A comfortable silence thickened between the two of you, only interrupted by your quiet groans of pain, which were always followed up by Logan’s sheepish apology.

“I still haven��t graded the kids’ homework papers—they’re expecting it back on Monday,” you gritted out, hand shooting forward to grip Logan’s shoulder, nails digging into his collarbone when he moved down to clean up the shallow wound across your torso. 

He quirked an eyebrow towards you in amusement. “You’re crazy, you know that? Almost died today and all you’re thinkin’ about is grading papers. Pfft.”

“That’s not all I’m thinking about,” you weakly protested, smacking his hand away when he playfully pinched your thigh.

After wiping away all the crusted blood and dirt on your brand new X-Men suit, he was satisfied to see that your gash wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. He hauled himself onto the edge of the bathtub so he was sitting right across from you. “Yeah? What else are you thinking about?”

“You.” The single word came out as nothing but a low mutter. 

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or worried,” he replied with a roguish grin, pupils darting between your eyes and your raw-bitten lips. 

You huffed out a laugh. “Maybe both.” His forehead leaned against yours as you breathed him in, relishing in his calming presence. “I really like you, Lo.”

Those five words were what spurred him to push forward, slanting his lips onto yours, stealing your breath away. You made a small noise of surprise, before practically melting into him, looping your sore arms over his neck and tugging him all the closer. He kissed you slowly, careful about where to place his hands, because your body was littered with fresh scars. He settled on just above your waist, smoothing his thumbs out over the back of your ribs, as if to constantly reassure himself that you were here. You were okay.

His nose bumped into yours, and it hurt to smile—oh, it practically burned with each kiss—but you smiled into him anyway. Because for Logan, it was worth the pain.

“Ow,” you lightly complained when he accidentally knocked his knee against your busted one. “Watch it, old man.”

A growl caught in his throat. “You know, I was gonna say I really liked you, too, but I don’t think that applies anymore.”

You burst into a fit of laughter, clutching at your stomach a second later, moaning out with pain. “Don’t make me laugh! You ass!”

He could only smile at that, roping you towards him once more with his fingers anchored over your jaw. This time, the kiss was hot and heavy, more confident. Your hands ran through his hair, gently tugging at his roots, which made pleasant shivers spider down his spine. It was needy with want, his kisses wandering from your lips to the apples of your cheeks, to your trembling throat. 

The hand on your back was only starting to traverse downwards when the door flung open, revealing a smug Rogue and an awfully mortified Kurt just behind her.

“I knew it! I knew y’all were a thing!” Rogue called out, clapping her hands excitedly. “Scott totally owes me twenny bucks!”

She scuttled away gleefully, leaving the blue elf staring at the two of you with wide, amber eyes, completely still.

“You can close the door, Kurt,” you hesitantly told him, before Logan could snarl out something unsavory. You were uncomfortably perched halfway between the toilet seat and Logan’s lap, with his hand flush over your ass. 

“Er… right… I’ll just use the bathroom upstairs,” he breathily stumbled, before teleporting away in a hazy cloud of sulphuric fumes. 

“Damn elf didn’t close the door. Of fuckin’ course.” Logan groaned, pulling himself away from you with a scowl. “You alright, darlin’?”

An embarrassed grin replaced the initial shock of being found. “Yeah, I think so. You?”

“Worst night of my life. The entire school’s gonna know by tomorrow,” Wolverine grumbled, before fondly glancing towards you. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, though.”

You hobbled up with his support, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to his cheek. “You think the entire team bet money on us?”

“Oh, yeah,” Logan chortled as he helped you out of the communal bathroom, heading upstairs to your bedroom. “Charlie bet a hundred bucks on us. I heard him talking to Storm about it.”

You side-eyed him with amusement. “So did he win?”

“Nope,” Logan said, popping the ‘p’, looking far too smug to be ripping away a hundred dollars from his old friend. “Thought neither of us would have the balls to confess until next month.”

“You’re sick,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “Did you kiss me just to spite him?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” countered Logan, shoving the door to your room open with his shoulder. “Professor losing a hundred bucks was just the cherry on top, you know?”

You sank onto your bed, dragging Logan with you, barely giving him enough time to slam the door shut. “Yeah,” you mumbled, pulling him into yet another kiss. “You’re awful, Lo.”

“Love you, too.”

Placing your hand on his chest, you pulled away hesitantly, unsure if you heard him right. “Yeah?”

Logan smiled, all warm and genuine. “Yeah.”

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #x-men x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfiction #x-men fanfiction #xmen fanfiction #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #wolverine angst #wolverine fluff #xmen imagines #xmen angst #xmen fluff #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #xmen wolverine #x-men wolverine #logan howlett imagines #wolverine imagines

[poetoflawed]

The Aftermath

Part 2 of The Mission NOTE: Again, this is based on the oc that @v-cain Writes about. This is part 2, and I tried to make it a similar ending to the 1st HTTYD movie. So, Hopefully, you like it!

Fandom: X-men

Warnings: Swearing (probably), fighting, hurt/comfort, fire, let me know if there's more.

Pairings: (All Platonic) Logan Howlett x gn!teen!reader, Hank McCoy x gn!teen!reader, Scott Summers x gn!teen!reader, Kurt Wagner x gn!teen!reader, Jean Grey x gn!teen!reader, Jubilation Lee x gn!teen!reader, Charles Xavier x gn!teen!reader, Erik Lenhsherr x gn!teen!reader

Y/n POV

Everything hurts, that's what I notice first. Slowly I try to open my eyes. Everything blurry, and too bright. I shift in a white bed, with sheets that feel like paper. I realize that I feel heavy. white wraps around my body, some stained red others crisp and pure. I manage to get myself upright, only then getting my bearings. I'm back at the academy, In the sterile infirmary. I look to my side and notice that Logan Has scrunched himself into those tiny uncomfortable hospital chars, and fallen asleep. Without waking him, I Manage to Make my way out of the room, I decided that rest is what he needed. when he wakes up i can let him know I'm ok...

Logans POV

Goddamn, these hospital chairs. I keep telling Xavier, that we need new chairs. since there's always someone in the infirmary for one thing or another. As I'm trying to work out the knot in my shoulder I look at the bed and notice that their bed is empty...

Panic sets in as I hear rustling in the hall. I franticly make my way out and see Y/N quietly talking to a nurse,

"the hell are you doing out of bed?!" I ask with a slight tinge of panic peaking through

"i wanted to talk to the nurse, and you were sleeping." Y/N quietly says looking down.

"it's fine, you scared me is all..."

"me? i scared logan, THE wolverine?" they tease

"ok no you know what, go back to bed" i say trying to not let the smile making its way on my face too visible.

note: i will eventually make a part three....

#found family #x men comics #part 2

[lovelymel]

𝓒haracter 𝓛ist + 𝓡equest 𝓘nfo !!

✧ ✧ ✧

i will write :: lgbtq, male + female + gn! readers, fluff, angst, smut, headcanons, drabbles, somewhat dark themes for horror characters

i won’t write :: big age gaps, incest, super freaky kinks, any stuff like that man 👽

✧ ✧ ✧

⏤͟͟͞͞ ✦ 𝓨oung 𝓙ustice :: season 1 & season 2

kid flash — wally west

impulse — bart allen

robin — dick grayson

superboy — connor kent

aqualad — kaldur’ahm

miss martian — m’gann m’orzz

artemis — artemis crock

⏤͟͟͞͞ ✦ 𝓧-𝓜en :: live action & ‘97

wolverine — logan howlette

cyclops — scott summers

magneto — erik lehnsherr

professor x — charles xavier

gambit — remy lebeau

storm — ororo monroe

phoenix — jean grey

⏤͟͟͞͞ ✦ 𝓑ASEketball

joe “coop” cooper

doug remer

⏤͟͟͞͞ ✦ 𝓞rgazmo

joseph “joe” young

⏤͟͟͞͞ ✦ 𝓑ill & 𝓣ed

bill s. preston esq.

ted “theodore” logan

⏤͟͟͞͞ ✦ 𝓢cream

billy loomis

stu macher

⏤͟͟͞͞ ✦ 𝓣he 𝓛ost 𝓑oys

david

dwayne

paul

marko

[justsomerandomfanfic]

What Am I Going To Do With You? - Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Title: What Am I Going To Do With You?

Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

Requested by Anon!

WC: 4,438

Warnings: Death mentioned briefly, X-Men canon violence briefly mentioned, italics, cursing, unconsciousness?, alcohol (beer), very brief mentions of poisoning, yelling mentioned, nightmares mentioned, confessions, strangers to friends to lovers, nicknames, banter, teasing, flirting, slight suggestiveness, slight angst, and fluff

The snow was falling softly outside, and a few puffy flakes were already starting their journey into the ground of the forested land that surrounded your small cabin in Hunter, New York. The air was cold and biting with each puff of wind that blew across the open landscape. It was early in the morning, on a Friday, when you would usually go out and cut up some new firewood for the upcoming days. It was hard work, especially in such cold weather, but it ultimately kept you warm for a week or two before you'd have to chop up some more.

In your oversized, white coat, you gathered as much wood as you possibly could fit into your arms before setting off through the thick snow, back to your back door. Kicking and knocking your snow boats against the slightly raised threshold, you shook your hair out as you nudged the door closed with your hip. The snow that had landed softly in your hair began to instantly melt into its liquid form once the warm and comforting heat of your house hit you. Setting down the wood logs on the small wooden table by your wood-burning furnace; you stood up straight, back slightly aching as you did so. 

Upon looking at your wood pile, you worried on your bottom lip before deciding to go out for a couple more from the large stack you had up against the side of your cabin. You weren't entirely sure that you'd have enough, so it was best to grab more wood than you'd need. You didn't want to freeze to death during the rest of your winter, and you didn't want to go out into the freezing cold more than you'd have to. 

With a short glance at your still-steaming coffee on your dining room table, you let out a sigh before stepping back out into the cold. Stuffing your mittens together to keep them tight on your hands, you rubbed at your chill-to-the-bone nose before heading back around to the side of your cabin. But right as you turned the corner, you froze, not literally. There, lying slumped in the thick and deep snow was a man. He definitely wasn’t there when you went out to get the first load of logs. He didn't move, possibly unconscious... Or worse... Dead. You couldn't have a dead man on your property... It would only bring trouble. 

Hoping, praying that his man was still alive, you dragged your feet through the seven-inch snow, standing within inches from him, you dropped to your knees. Eyes wandering his large figure, you bit your lip; he was breathing, his back rising and falling slowly. This man wouldn't survive long, him facing down like that. Tearing off your gloves, you quickly pushed him over, groaning slightly from how heavy the man was. What did he eat? Rocks?

Once upon his back, you let out a short breath, a small foggy plume escaping your lips as you looked over him. You couldn't help but stare, completely entranced by the man's striking features. His face, although covered in bits of stubborn snow, was a rosy pink, with a dark beard, and brown-curly hair. And though he was unconscious, he looked at peace, even though he lay in the middle of the cold snow. He reminded you of someone, but you didn't know who... Your mind began racing as you racked your brain to figure out where he might have been coming from, why he was unconscious, and why he would be out and about in just jeans and a flannel button-up?

Feeling the biting tingling on your hands from the cold you blinked out of your thoughts. And as if on instinct, you stood back up, your knees aching in the process as you moved around to his head. Taking hold of his arms, you grunted lightly as you pushed him forward, in a sitting position. Once you were satisfied that you had him positioned as he needed to be, you began to drag him to your back door.

It took you a long time, but by the time you had gotten the unconscious - handsome - stranger inside, you were well out of breath. You had to take a moment, taking a moment to catch your breath and calm your heart rate as you stared down at the man lying on your wooden floor. Tossing your gloves onto one of your couches, you quickly tore off your winter coat, hanging it sharply on the hook near your front door. Turning back to the man, you placed both your hands on your hips, huffing lightly. 

"What am I going to do with you?" You asked, mostly to yourself as you ran your hands through your hair. “I can’t call the police… They’ll only bring trouble…”

Thinking that now would be the best time to lay him down somewhere more comfortable before he woke, you grabbed the man again and pulled him over to your other couch, closest to the fire that was burning. You thought it would be easier to lay on your other couch than your bed; lifting the man was already hard enough - him feeling like he weighed a million pounds - but lifting him as you have up the stairs... No way. 

Staring down at the man, you worried whether or not you should get him a change of clothes, but that would be impossible. You live a good couple of miles from the closest shops and you didn't have any clothes that would fit the man; who you guessed was around six-foot-something. But you didn't want him to catch his death, so a good couple of blankets would hopefully suffice. You didn't really know… You had hoped so. Grabbing the throw on the back of the other couch, you carefully tossed it over the man before grabbing the rest of the blankets you had around the cabin. 

Upon placing the last blanket down on him, you stopped. Finally, away from the cold air and snow, you began to see the redness in his cheeks fade away slightly, and only then did you have the chance to take a better look at his face. Now that there wasn't any snow in his hair, you let your eyes run over his handsome features, noticing all the little details. From the way his eyelashes curled delicately, his short, dark brown curls became more pronounced as his hair dried, and the way his tanned skin seemed to glow under the artificial light of your lamps and the fireplace; he even had barely-there freckles upon the apples of his cheeks. Your hand twitched with the urge to stroke his cheek,.. Nope. Bad idea, bad idea... Maybe... You paused to think. Yeah, to check if he had a fever, you could do that. 

Reaching out, you softly brushed some of the stray hairs from his forehead - in awe from how soft they were from just the brief brush - your mind searing into you that having this unknown man in your home was dangerous. He could be dangerous. He was tall, obviously strong; he could easily break you in two with those large hands of his, but you ignored it. Finally, you pressed the back of your hand on his forehead, only to sigh in relief. No fever. Quickly, you pulled your hand away, making sure that he was breathing once more before you headed to the kitchen, grabbing your coffee from the dining room table as you did so. Maybe you could make some soup, for you, and possibly for the man that was in your living room. 

~~~

It had been a couple of days since the mysterious man had come into your life. And for the past couple of days, that mysterious man was still unconscious. You had been doing your best to take care of him, not really knowing what to do; though you read up on the few First Aid and Nursing textbooks you had found three years ago at a thrift store, but never got around to reading. Sitting next to the fire, in your old rocking chair that you got for the amazing price of seven dollars, a book in your hand, you decided to catch up on some reading. As you rocked, turning page after page, you occasionally looked up to make sure that he was still breathing, in turn, not fully paying attention to the words on the page. Looking over to the clock on the wall, you let out a sigh before standing and setting down your book on the rocking chair seat; the book was a bit boring anyway. 

Walking over, you sat on the ground beside the couch. Resting on your knees, you stared at the man, your mind wandering. Who was he? He looked so familiar. Like you had known him or had seen him before. But you hadn’t been out and about in - quote on quote - ‘the real world’ for years. You had been sort of living off the grid for the past couple of years. 

Reaching out, you went to feel his forehead for a fever again when his hand suddenly reached up, gripping your wrist. You gasped, eyes widening as you watched the man's eyes open, a small but gruff groan reverberating from his well-built chest. Slowly, he sat up, bringing your wrist with him, tightening his grasp slightly as he stared down at you with hard, dark brown eyes. You couldn't look away, both scared and lost in those eyes that were locked onto yours.

"Wha' happened?" He rasped, his voice rough and hoarse, "Who are you?"

You swallowed down your spit, trying not to let the nervous feeling overwhelm you. "Uh, I'm Y/N... Uh, I found you outside my cabin, unconscious." You spoke in a hushed tone, your voice quiet as you stared up at the man with wide eyes.

The man stared at you, his brows furrowing as he tilted his head slightly, clearly confused though he never dropped his slightly threatening demeanor. "Where am I?"

"You're- You're in my cabin... In, uh, Hunter, New York." You answered as you glanced from his dark eyes to his hand on your wrist, "Uh, could you please let go of me?"

His own eyes snapped to his hand, tightly wrapped around your wrist before quickly dropping your hand. Without another word, he stood, the pile of blankets falling to the side as he made his way quickly to the closet door. Staggering to your feet, you made your way to him, grabbing his flannel sleeve without really thinking. 

"Wait! You can't go back out there! It's freezing!" You exclaimed, his eyes staring down at your hand sharply before meeting your worried gaze once more.

"It don't bother me." He spoke, voice deep, sounding irritated, "I don't care 'bout no damn weather." 

"But you have no jacket, gloves, or hat... Or- Or anything! You'll catch your death out there!" At that, the man clicked his tongue, pulling his arm from your grasp, "Besides, the nearest town is miles away. Fifteen to be exact. You won't be able to make it. Especially after being unconscious for five days!" The man said nothing, walking the rest of his way to the front door, his large hand grabbing the door handle. Becoming slightly irritated, you grabbed his arm again, using enough strength to turn him towards you a little. "Listen here. It's freezing out, you just woke from some sort of small coma-like sleep thing, haven't drunk or eaten anything, and you expect me to just let you leave?" You growled, tightening your grip slightly, "At least stay a couple more days until the storm calms down. I have soup on the stove and a few drinking options in my fridge. Though, if you have a death wish, by all means, I can’t stop you, go on out there."

You stared up at the man as he stared down at you, his eyes moving around your face before he huffed, "Got any beer?"

"Beer?" You asked, slightly deadpanned, as the man looked back down at you and nodded, "Yeah... Uh, yeah, I got beer. Uh, just follow me, please." Breaking away, you turned and made your way to your kitchen, the sound of the man's heavy footsteps following close behind you. Reaching the stove, you grabbed a bowl from the cupboard before grabbing the large spoon and pouring a bit of mashed potato and onion soup into the bowl. Turning to the fridge, you grabbed one of the Coronas you had next to your hard lemonades before shutting the door with your hip. 

Turning, you found the man sitting on the stool, his lower arms resting on your counter. Clearing your throat, you set the beer and bowl of soup down before him before you grabbed your own soup. "Thanks," You heard him mutter slightly as you turned your back. 

Leaning against the corner of the counter, you stirred your soup around with a spoon, feeling very awkward. Glancing over as the man took a long sip of his beer, you spoke up once more. "Uh, may I know your name?" You asked, watching as he froze, spoon halfway to his mouth, "I mean, it's only fair. You know my name, and I've most likely saved your life and all. Nasty storm."

The man took another sip before setting the glass bottle aside, running his hand through his hair before glancing over at you, "... I'm Logan."

"Logan..." You repeated the name slowly, testing it out, "Well... What were you doing in my woods before you fell unconscious?" You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Logan shrugged, glancing away at the picture of a moose on your wall before taking another sip of his beer. Silence followed the question and you wondered why he hadn't answered. What was he hiding? Was he even hiding anything? Could he even remember? What did he know? What did he know about you?

"You live 'ere?" He suddenly asked, making you pause eating this time.

"Of course I do. What kind of question is that?" You asked, looking up at the man once more with an eyebrow raised before pushing off of the counter and tossing your empty bowl in the sink. You quickly rushed away from the kitchen, Logan watching you as you grabbed your winter coat from the hook and shrugged it on.

"Where ya goin'?" He asked as you slid on your gloves and grabbed your old messenger bag.

"Out to grab more wood for my furnace and fireplace." You answered simply. "It'll take a bit. So, if you're not here when I get back, I'll understand. But you should at least stay until the snow dies down and I can get you a ride into town."

Logan pursed his lips, finishing off his beer before speaking, "'nd ya think ya can trust me? Some stranger?" He asked as you made your way to the back door, shuffling your boots on.

You paused at the back door, hand on the door handle, "Yeah. I can trust you." You said confidently before turning to look at the burly man with a slight grin, "There's more beer in the fridge if you want it, and water too if you're still thirsty."

And with that, you opened and shut the door behind you, a waft of cold air hitting you in the face before you started walking along the thick snow to the side of your cabin.

~~~

"Logan! Could you help me in the kitchen for a moment!?" You called out aimlessly in the cabin from the said kitchen, hands covered in dough and flour.

Needing the dough, you smiled as you heard the familiar heavy footsteps make their way to you. Logan huffed, pulling his hands from his jeans pockets as he made his way over. "Wha' do ya need me fo'?" He grumbled, leaning against the counter. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, gesturing to the bag of flour on the counter beside the both of you, "Could you pour me some of that? I miscalculated how much I was going to need."

Logan grunted, grabbing the bag and dumping a small pile onto the dough, "That good?" He asked and you smiled with a nod.

"Yep! Perfect, thank you, Lo." You replied, smiling up at him as he stepped back, eyeing you curiously.

"What're ya makin'?" Logan asked, peering over your shoulder at what you were doing.

You grinned lightly, "Pie dough." You stated, glancing up at him.

"Pie dough?" He asked, "What kind of pie?"

"Cherry."

He stared at you, his eyebrows furrowed. "No kiddin'?"

"Yup." You giggled, grinning brightly at the man. "Didn't I tell you about it last night?"

Logan shook his head, "Nah, ya didn't mention it. Didn't say a thin'."

"Well," You began, "I'm making cherry pie. It'll be ready for dessert tonight. Just have to make it, bake it, and give it enough time to cool down a bit." You glanced up at him before finishing, "Wanna help me with this?"

Logan huffed, "I don't know… I ain’t good at bakin’." He began, watching as you tried to blow a couple of stray hairs from your face, "I was goin' to go out and get more wood for the fire." He answered, bringing his hand up to brush the stubborn hairs away from your face and behind your ear, making your face heat up as you smiled sheepishly up at him.

"We already have enough firewood in here to last us a few more days, Lo." You laughed out, looking back down at the dough on the counter.

"Fine. But ya owe me a beer," Logan answered, pouring a bit more flour over your dough before you could ask him to do it "And an extra slice of the pie." 

Your smile widened, chuckling lightly, "It's not like you take the beer anyway." You teased as Logan scoffed softly, rolling his eyes. "But, you may have an extra piece, maybe three pieces, since you're helping me and all."

"Fine by me," Logan muttered, "Whaddya want me to do?"

"Oh, uh, could you cut me up some of those cherries, and make sure the pits are out of them? Cherry pits have amygdalin."

“Amy-wha’ now?” Logan asked, walking over to the fridge and grabbing a beer.

“Amygdalin.” You corrected, “It’s what’s in cherry pits. Our body converts it into cyanide.” You answered as Logan took in what you were saying, his lips just pressed onto the glass rim of the beer bottle as he paused.

Logan hummed deeply before finally taking a sip of his drink, grabbing the see-through bag of pre-washed cherries with one hand. Glancing over at him briefly, you couldn't help but smile. It had been a little over a month since you found Logan in the snow. And the past month had been pretty amazing. After the initial awkwardness passed, Logan became really nice to talk to and even began to become a little fun to be around, though he was still quiet and kept to himself for the most part.

The only thing that ever seemed to truly change was when he would wake up in the middle of the night screaming from inside his guest bedroom. The first time it happened, you had rushed over to his room across from yours and came face to face with a set of claws. He didn't hurt you, but he apologized to you as if he did. He didn't really talk to you much after the first nightmare, and it took you a mighty long time to get him to open back up to you again. Though he was rather stubborn, so were you, and with a lot of reassurance, you finally cracked him out of his shell enough for him not to run away into the snowstorm. And after a long conversation by the fire, and with warm coffee filling your stomachs, you finally got some of his story. 

And though you feared that he was going to leave you, Logan stayed.

And the longer he stayed, the more you began to fall for him. Under that gruff exterior, Logan was actually a softie. A sarcastic, sarcastic, softie. It was one of the many things you loved about him. And you were sure that he might've felt the same, or at least something close to it. From lingering glances and the less-than-accidental touches, he was certainly getting close to you, or closer than he usually let himself get to anyone. He had thought about leaving, in the middle of the night, or in the early morning before you woke up. But if Logan had left, he would’ve felt guilty, leaving you all alone, only for you to wake up and not find him there. That tension was there. And that fear of accidentally hurting you was still there. And it scared him. It scared him at how close he was actually getting to you.

"Bub," Logan called out, making you jump slightly and look up at him as you snapped out of your daydreaming. Logan stared down at you, his eyes narrowed slightly, "Are ya okay?"

You nodded slightly, wiping the flour off the best you could before going over to wash them in the sink, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just lost in thought."

Logan watched you carefully, "What 'bout?" He asked and you tilted your head slightly as you thought.

"Hmm… Nothing really... Uh, it happens when I bake." You mutter sheepishly, reaching out for the dish towel on the oven handle only to find it right in front of your face, in Logan's hand. Giving him a thankful smile, you take the small towel, drying your hands off. "Thank you, Logan. Are those cherries ready?" You asked, looking over past his figure to take a look at the cherries he directed for the pie.

"They're ready," He answered, grabbing your attention again, "There's somethin' buzzin' around in that pretty head of yours."

"Hm?" You hummed, raising a brow curiously. "Somethin’ buzzin’ around?" You repeated questioningly with a smile.

Logan chuckled dryly, stepping closer to you, smirking, "Don't play coy with me, Y/N. Whatcha thinkin' 'bout?"

You flushed lightly, biting your bottom lip and shifting your weight uncomfortably under his gaze. Your heart fluttered lightly at his closeness. He looked so gorgeous today. Hair all clean from a fresh shower, washed-out jeans, and in his new flannel that you bought him. And that look upon his face, eyes narrowed playfully, filled with mirth; the chocolate brown speckled with hints of green. And that grin, encompassed by his freshly-trimmed beard. Why did he have to be so handsome... And smell so nice? And how did he shape his hair in that way, all cute and pointy? It truly fascinated you. 

"Uhhhh," You stammered intelligently, unsure of whether you should answer him. Or just keep thinking. Yeah, thinking sounded nice. Suddenly, you felt Logan's hands on either side of your body, your hands instinctively coming up to latch onto Logan's shoulders as he picked you up and onto the flour-free counter. "Logan..." You breathed out in slight shock and surprise. His hands wrapped around your waist, standing between your knees.

"If ya don't wanna talk, ya don't have to." He murmured lowly, his dark eyes scanning your features, making you shift in your seat slightly under his intense gaze. “I ain’t gonna force you to talk if ya don’t wan’ to.”

"And let me guess, it'll help if I talk about it?" You questioned with a chuckle, shaking your head slowly.

"It might." He answered confidently, nonchalantly.

You gave him a look, crossing your arms over your chest, "And what if I was just daydreaming? Is it so wrong to daydream?" Unable to stop the corners of your lips from twitching.

"Depends. Do ya daydream 'bout me?" Logan asked in response and you sighed exasperatedly, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

"Do I daydream about you, Lo?" You asked yourself as if you were thinking it over. "I don't know. What would you think if I did?" You then asked, gaining the courage to make eye contact. 

Logan raised a brow, his grin widening. "I'd be flattered, bub." He answered, as he watched you roll your eyes playfully.

"You would." You agreed, giving him a teasing grin.

"I probably would tease ya a bit." He continued, "Daydreamin' 'bout me and all."

"You would." You repeated, lowering your voice slightly with slight annoyance, glancing off to the side, right at your unfinished pie. You really needed to finish that pie… Maybe in the end you’d have enough leftover dough for smaller pies… That’d be cute…

"I'd probably kiss ya." Logan then said.

"You would-" You paused, blinking before turning to look up at him, eyes wide and face flushed. "Wait, what?" You asked, a confused look forming on your face. Did he really say what you thought he said..?

Logan's smirk dwindled, "Do you not want me to?" He asked, and you quickly responded by shaking your head.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean... Um…" You trailed off, trying to think of a way out of this embarrassing mess. "Um… I'd kinda… Like that…" You mumbled the last part, trying to hide how embarrassed you suddenly felt. You never expected him to say anything like that.

"Really?" Logan said, seeming genuinely surprised as he watched you nod. 

"Yup." You replied quickly, hoping that he wouldn't hear the faint squeak in your voice.

"You sure, bub?" He questioned. "Because, if this is gonna make you uncomf-"

Rolling your eyes, you uncrossed your arms, "Oh, shut up and kiss me, Logan." You growled, grabbing the collar of his flannel, and pulling him towards you, pressing your lips harshly against his own, making him pause for a moment before kissing back. Your hands went from his collar to tangled in his hair, tugging gently, while his grip on your hips tightened slightly. His fingers slid a bit under the hem of your shirt, burning against the small portion of your cool skin that he had found at your waist. After a few moments, you pulled back, panting slightly. "You taste like cherries." You muttered breathlessly.

"I may have snuck some when ya weren't lookin’." He grinned a toothy grin, looking down at you mischievously.

You chuckled slightly. "What am I going to do with you?" You commented, feeling his warm fingers brush through your hair as they rested on the nape of your neck before he leaned forward, capturing your lips once more.

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

#cute #fluff #slight angst #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #x you #x y/n #request #requested by anon #x gn reader #x-men #xmen #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x gn reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x gn reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x y/n

[v-cain]

"You'll Have A Family"

Request: OOH X-MEN?? How about a shy gn!teen reader meeting characters of your choice for the first time and they’re all really supportive and nice :) Sorry if that’s kinda weird 😭😭 No worries if not!!

Fandom: Xmen

Mutation Explanation: Dude, imagine toothless except he's a human. R hides their wings and tail with a cloak because they dont like showing them off.

Pairings: (all platonic) Charles Xavier x gn!teen!reader, Logan Howlett x gn!teen!reader, Kurt Wagner x gn!teen!reader

A/N: what? no this wasn't requested in august wdym *sweats nervously* hope you enjoy @book-place !!! <333 (please ignore anything that doesn't make sense, not feeling the best recently so i get a pass on bullshit)

----

You walk up to the gate, hugging your cape closer to your body. The sign on the gate read 'Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters'. Recently, your family had contacted the headmaster of the school asking if they could enrol you as soon as possible. The school had agreed, and your family had sent you off the next week- they weren't very fond of your mutation.

As you approach the front door, you can't help but overthink all the possibilities of what could happen. What if everyone hates you? What if they turn you away?Where would you go? Why couldn't you be normal-

Before you know it, you're standing in front of the door. You raise your hand to knock, and...stand there for ten minutes deciding whether or not to walk away and live in the woods for the rest of your life.

----

Inside, Charles was leaving his office as he was expecting the arrival of a new student soon. He was heading down to the common area when he heard some frantic thoughts coming behind the front door. He stopped and turned his attention to it. He moved towards the door and opened it to find the new student.

----

You blink and look down to see a man sitting in a wheelchair with a kind smile. "Hello! I'm Professor Charles Xavier, the headmaster of this school. Please, come in." You awkwardly shuffle in the door and close it behind you. Charles noticed that you have yet to take off your cloak, but he wouldn't push you to.

You look around the mansion, that you realize you'll be living in from now on. It reminded you of a tour you took in a castle when you were young-it was probably smaller than this place. Your attention is brought back to Charles as he explains that a student would be meeting you soon to take you on a tour around the mansion.

You nod slightly and rub the sleep out of your eyes, which reminds you of something your parents didn't tell the school. "Uh, sir?" He turns back to you with a small smile. "Yes? And Professor is just fine." You hum in return, and continue "I don't think my parents mentioned this to you, but I have a nocturnal sleeping pattern, so how would I attend classes?" Charles paused for a second, why wouldn't your parents mention this? Brushing the thought off, he responds "We can discuss this later in my office in more detail, but I'm sure we can work around it."

Just as he finished speaking, a teen showed up our of nowhere, scaring the shit out of you. You shriek and jump back, causing your wings to flair up in defence. The teen raised his hands up, "Uh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" You stood back, wings still up, and took in his appearance. He had blue skin, blue hair, yellow eyes and a blue tail thatwas swishing around. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a TV show logo you didn't recognise.

Slowly, your wings lowered back down but you were still nervous. The teen awkwardly glances at the Professor before holding his hand out to shake. "My name is Kurt. What's yours?" You hesitantly shake his hand, responding quietly "Y/N L/N..." He smiles at you, and then explains how he would be giving you the tour of the mansion. You nod and bid your goodbyes to the Professor, who smiles and returns to his office.

A few hours later, Kurt has shown you where classes are, bathrooms, bedrooms, the kitchen, the common area...and you are exhausted. All you wanted to do was flop down on your bed and sleep, but the universe had other plans. Right at the end of your tour, Kurt and you ran into some of Kurts friends. They introduced themselves as Scott, Jean and Jubilee. You nod at them but say nothing in response. You all stand there for a moment before Jean suggests everyone goes outside because it's a nice day outside.

"Um... I'm actually pretty tired after travelling all night... I think I'm gonna lie down for a while." You awkwardly smile. Jean smiles at you kindly and responds "Yeah, that's chill, have a good nap!" And with that, the group were off. You stand still for a moment and then head upstairs to the bedrooms. You get there, and finally fall asleep.

----

When you wake up, you find that you've slept through dinner. You shrug off your cloak and walk downstairs, your tail dragging on the ground. You always felt more relaxed during the night time- there wasn't anyone around to judge you, and you could look at the stars in peace and quiet.

You walk down to the kitchen without getting lost- total win- and rummage around in the cupboards for some food. One of the best parts of your mutation is the fact you can see perfectly well in the dark, so you've never had to use lights during the night.

You find a packet of your favourite chips, hopping up on the counter to eat them.

Lost in your own world, you failed to notice a new arrival in the kitchen.

----

Logan walked down the hallway in the mansion, with the intention of getting some beer from the kitchen. He walked in, and noticed someone sitting on the counter. They had yellow eyes- holy shit were they glowing?- black scaly wings and tail, and scattered scales across their arms, face and legs. They had claws for hands and feet, which looked scarily sharp. What caught his eye the most, though, was that clutched in their hands were his chips.

----

"Hey kid-" The stranger didn't get to finish his sentence because you, once again, got the shit scared out of you and fell off the counter. The man tried to come and help you up but your wings shot up protectively and a fireball started in your throat. The man steps back slowly and raises his hands up in defence, "Woah, kid, I'm not gonna hurt you. 'Was just gonna say you were eatin' my chips." You continue to stare at him for a moment, trying to determine if he was telling the truth. You backed down and picked up the chips, eating them again.

The man raises and eyebrow at you, "That's mine." You narrow your eyes at him and growl, to which he rolls his eyes and breaks the lock off a cabinet beside the sink. He reaches in and pulls out a can of beer. You peer at the cabinet, curious. He notices and thinks for a moment. "You want one?" Your eyes shoot up to him and you nod immediately. He chuckles and grabs one for you too.

You take it from him and open it with your claw. You raise it to him, and he returns the action. You both stay like this in silence for a while, till eventually he locks the cabinet again. "Night kid." he says as he walks to the door. "...Goodnight." he pauses to look back at you, before continuing on his way.

Sometime after you finish the beer and chips, you leave for the garden to stargaze. Today had been tiring, but all in all it wasn't half-bad. Maybe you'd even make some new friends! As you gaze, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'll have a family.

#xmen #charles xavier x gn!teen!reader #kurt wagner x gn!teen!reader #logan howlett x gn!teen!reader #charles xavier #logan howlett #kurt wagner #toothless #teen!reader #gn!reader #platonic #dragon!reader #toothless!reader

[sunflowerharrington]

“Don’t Be A Cheeseball, Twinkie!”

just some peter fluff x

warning(s) - mention of sex

wc - ~1.7k

tags - fluff, declarations of love, pete being a lil’ floofball, friends with benefits to lovers i guess? i think? i don’t know, man.

what’s this? me posting twice in one day? i’m on a roll, babes! also, my first gn!reader fic.

It’s late, and home-time for the students. But a fight has broken out on the training field and seems to be growing in intensity, with students jumping to conclusions down each other’s throats about whatever it is they’re arguing about. Logan is trying to calm the situation down, but seems to only make every heated situation he steps into ten times worse than they needed to be.

“Hey, can you all just calm down, even for a few seconds?” You ask, a sense of calm rushing through your voice, not wanting to startle the students, but they ignore you as they always did.

Through the shouting, you barely manage to hear a soft whoosh come from in the distance, but you do, and immediately your senses warm. Your stomach empties of all emotion bar one, and the butterflies replace your organs as your insides fire up. Not by anger, not by irritation, but by the power and hypnotic spell one man has over you.

Even the smallest of gestures manage to light your body on fire, aching for some attention from him, for his touch, his lips... But he always seems to give it all away to every other woman who crosses his path, especially the new women who arrived at the mansion a few days ago.

Jealousy became your middle name within your first day at the Academy. Choosing him was a mistake, but you couldn’t help falling under his spell the moment he mentioned Pac-Man and his love for Pink Floyd. There’s something about him that none of the other men at the academy have, a split personality. Or rather, two versions of himself. He has child-like qualities to his personality. He acts like a kid sometimes, in the sense of having a carefree attitude and no filter. He’s what you would call a ‘Man-Child.’ But as soon as those lights turn off at night, and the sheets are thrown over your head, away from your adult responsibilities, the devil replaces his pure soul, leaving you breathless at every touch, every mention of your name, every acknowledgment of your existence. His presence intoxicates you.

Your cheeks flush as you come back to your senses, hoping no one notices, or knows what you have just been thinking about. You take a deep breath and remove yourself from the argument and away from the students who are still ignoring you. Even though you have been marked as the peacemaker and the mediator of the X-Mansion, sometimes the peacemaker needs some peace of their own.

You stretch the tension from within your shoulders and exhale deeply, the only thing that would be even more relaxing than this is a massage from the man with the fastest fingers in the world. And every night, when the lights go down, he lives up to that name.

You shudder with pleasure at the memories as your eyes fall on him, lying down on the grass with his hands behind his head, looking up at the stars twinkling in the night sky.

The scent of the grass and pollen fills your nose as you breathe in and out in time with the crickets and birds chirping in the distance. You stroll towards him, and notice that he hasn’t been looking at the stars, but has fallen into a light sleep.

He’s exhausted from the training and all of his missions, you think to yourself as you lay next to him, carefully pulling him up into your arms, and he welcomes your embrace with a sleepy smile.

The breeze causes your hands to grow ice cold, and you try your hardest to not touch off Peter with them, but you can’t help it. You need him in your arms, like a child with their favourite teddy bear, never wanting to let go.

“Hey, Twinkie…” he says, eyes still closed as he moves to lay his head on your chest.

You don’t reply, with words, instead cradling his jaw with your free hand as finally, he opens his eyes, immediately waking up the ravens inside your chest, and they start flapping about, trying to break through your rib cage and set themselves free.

He rubs his hands over his face and whines in protest over the argument still present over the far side of the training field. “Why can’t everyone just be friends?”

“Life doesn’t work like that. Some people are going to hate each other no matter what they do, or don’t do.”

“Are you talking about…?”

“Logan’s birthday? Yes.”

That goddamn party. When Peter allegedly hooked up with not only one, not only two, but three different women. And kissed Logan. Apparently. But it wasn’t like that. He did none of that. His feelings towards you are so real, so genuine, and so pure. And you have never felt this amount of gratitude towards someone, and some may even call it: love.

But against all odds, you have pushed through the comments, the snarky remarks from students and colleagues behind your backs, and even getting past the fact that Erik tried breaking you and Peter’s friendship up. And Peter was there for you, every single step of the way. Reassuring you. Checking up on you and making sure you were okay. He is always there for you. Always.

Peter’s little sister, Wanda, seemed like the only one on your side, calling you Y/N Maximoff, and never your real surname. Mx Maximoff. Imagine having the same surname as him, you think to yourself just as Peter returns your embrace, running his calloused fingers up and down your back, catching you as you fall to your knees.

The falling doesn’t hurt you, as it isn’t a painful fall. In fact, it’s a fall you have never had before. Falling for somebody. So hard that you almost can’t even handle it.

“Don't listen to what other people say. Do what’s right, for you, and nobody else,” he says, comfortingly, pressing a gentle, platonic kiss to the side of your forehead. “And if that means going against what everyone says, screw them. You do you, ok?”

Your body shudders once more as his magic touch sends waves of warmth throughout you.

“You’re all tense? What’s the matter, babe?” He asks, softly as he circles around behind you, placing the pads of his fingertips on your shoulders. He begins kneading your muscles like dough with firm pressure.

“I’m just- I’m not feeling like myself today,” you sigh, leaning backwards slightly before Peter pushes you back to sit up straight, continuing to melt each and every speck of tension in your shoulders.

“It’s going to be okay…” he whispers, following up by saying your name quietly. “I’m here for you.”

You melt once more under his touch, the tension of the argument and the party rolling away like the ocean retreating back from the sand on the beach. His hands are warm against your cool skin, and shivers travel up your spine and through your shoulders as he trails his fingers down your back. “Here, lie down.”

He releases you from his grip before speeding off to who knows where, before coming back moments later with a few pillows and blankets stacked in his arms. Peter lines the pillows and blankets up and lets you lie down comfortably on top of them before returning his hands to your shoulders. You close your eyes, enjoying the closeness of his body to yours, feeling the heat radiate off him. Almost like a human radiator.

“Honestly, I’ve not done that many massages… But it feels like I’m doing something right.”

He walks his fingertips down the length of your back slowly, and under the fabric of your shirt, exposing and giving him access to every part of your cold, delicate skin. You have no idea where his magic hands will go next, but then he rolls his hands back up, melting the last of the tension out of you.

“You really are,” you breathe out, almost to the point of falling asleep.

“Glad I can help.” He kneads your hips gently before travelling to the small of your back where he feels more tension, so he immediately makes it disappear. The massage continues for several more pleasant minutes, before the pressure on your back lifts and Peter removes his hands from your shoulders.

“Pete…”

“Hm?”

“There’s— I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, babe?” he asks softly, brushing the free strands of your hair from your face, cradling your chin in his hand.

Here it goes…

“I—” the words get stuck in your throat, and you just smile, hoping the words will come to you soon.

“Don’t be a cheeseball, Twinkie. I know exactly what you’re going to say,” he chuckles, cocooning his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

“You do? Go on then, what was I going to say?”

“Are you challenging me?” He lifts his head up, quirking a brow, and a smirk crawls its way onto his lips.

“I am.”

“Okay,” he begins, throwing his arms around dramatically like he’s in a soap opera. “You’re madly in love with me, and you want to tell the whole world! Want me to get you a megaphone to help with that?”

How in the…?

“So, was I right?” He asks as he takes a bow, fanning himself as he listens to the fake audience clapping for him.

“Y-yes, Peter,” you say, almost breathless. “I love—” you begin, and the words still aren’t there. You dig deep to find them, but unfortunately, they’re locked away.

“I know.”

I know? That’s it?

He stands up, ready to leave. Extending out his arm for you to take, you walk arm in arm back up to the other group, just before Peter stops the both of you with the biggest grin on his face you have ever seen and says, “I love you too, Twinkie.”

taglist: @xxlangdon, @sympathyforher <3 wanna be added? ask, dm or comment and i’ll add you :)

#peter maximoff #quicksilver #peter maximoff x gn!reader #friends with benefits to lovers #quicksilver fluff #peter maximoff fluff #quicksilver xmen x reader #quicksilver xmen #xmen fluff #evan peters quicksilver #cute #logan howlett

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Avoidance

Chapter 3: Tension

Summary: Can the team take the ‘Hot n Cold’ game you and Logan have going on?

Notes: First update on the new blog!

One week. That’s all it took for Cable to regret opening his big, fat mouth. In the span of one week from joining the team, you were doing everything in your power to be in Logan’s presence without it being obvious. Volunteers needed? You were there. Kids needed help? You were there. Both Logan and Cable knew what you were up to, but they couldn’t come right out and bitch about it. Because then you would demand to know what the fuck was going on with Logan.

Logan knew he shouldn’t be a coward about it. That he should just explain calmly who you looked like to him and why he couldn’t afford to even become friends. But he was never really good at expressing his feelings. Except for sarcasm or anger. So he was stuck.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team also knew what was up. They were taking bets amongst themselves as to how long it would take before you snapped on Logan and Cable.

Remy was in the training room, spinning his staff when Logan grouched into the room. “Well, ain’t we just a ray of sunshine.”

“Shut your mouth or you won’t live long enough to see the next Mardi Gras.” Logan walked over to a reinforced punching bag and began to attack it.

“Just tell them, cher. The team is only so big and eventually, you will have to go on a mission with them.”

Logan grunted and hit the bag so hard it flew across the gym. “Why did they have to join the team? Why did they have to look…”

Remy slowly came over and put his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Maybe this one’s different. Maybe they break the pattern?”

Logan pulled away. “Don’t you think that hasn’t crossed my mind?”

“Cher, if not now, then the next lifetime. Tell them.” But instead of agreeing, Logan grunted and left the gym. 

Meanwhile, you were pestering Cable. “You have to tell me!”

“Fuck off, kid.”

“Don’t you start this shit, old man! You wanted me on the team so bad and suddenly you changed your mind! I deserve to know why!”

“It’s not my place to say!” He shouted at you.

You looked at your friend for a solid minute. “Fine. I’m making Logan tell me.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?! What the fuck did I ever do to him? Or you to make you not trust me?”

“I trust you!”

“Then tell me!”

But instead of answering you, Cable just stomped away. You would have gone after him, but Scott called you about a mission. It went this way for weeks. Sometimes, rare times, Logan would let his guard down and you could get within five feet of him. He would forget himself and actually hold a small conversation with you. But then he would take one look at you, sadness would fill his eyes, and he’d make some excuse to leave. So you would yell at Cable. 

While it seemed annoying to your teammates, it also seemed harmless. You and Logan always had your head in the game when it came to missions. Whatever it was that Logan wouldn’t tell you, disappeared the moment you were on the X-Jet. Granted, you didn’t work closely together on the field due to Logan’s speed, but there were never any issues.

Until one fateful mission. 

You were still in a mood, having fought Cable that morning. But this time you didn’t have the moment to calm yourself before being tossed into a mission. One that was only going to be you, Cable, and Logan. 

Everything was fine at first. Each of you had your own job and it wasn’t a major mission. No one of consequence would be there. But when you rounded a corner, you came face to face with Pyro.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the newest member of Xavier’s team. And who might you be?”

“Typhoon.”

He laughed. “What a stupid superhero name.”

“Says the jackass named Pyro.”

“And you’ll soon find out why it’s a good name,” he shot his hand forward and a stream of fire came racing for you. 

You spun out of the way just in time, the flames licking at the wall near you. Making a fist, you concentrated on the fire suppressant system of the building. Soon, the sprinklers in the ceiling began to burst open, drenching both of you. Reaching out again, Pyro shot at you in anger but you were ready this time.

The water pouring out of the sprinklers was quickly made into a powerful stream aimed right at the fire blast. The both of you struggled for dominance in the fight of elements, neither one taking an inch. You suddenly heard Cable in your ear.

“Ready to go, Kid?”

“Would love to,” you grunted, “but I have this asshole trying to light me on fire.”

“What?!”

The voice that had answered wasn’t Cable’s. It was Logan’s. And before you had time to register why he would sound so scared at the idea of you facing another mutant, he was racing down the hall behind Pyro. Who could hear Logan approaching but wasn’t fast enough to stop him. If it wasn’t for Cable running up moments later, Pyro would have been shredded.

Once the situation was subdued, Logan was instantly at your side, looking you over. There was no rhyme or reason why the sudden change in Logan’s attitude towards you, so you just stood there in silence as he looked you over.

“Anything wrong with them?” Cable asked.

“No,” Logan grunted in reply. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Agreed,” Cable responded.

You, however, couldn’t find your words. What the fuck was going on?! So you silently followed the other two mutants back to the X-Jet and sat in silence as Cable flew you back to the mansion. The whole time you could feel Logan’s eyes on you.

Finally, you snapped. “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM WOLVERINE?!”

“My problem? Says the mutant who almost got themself roasted alive!”

“Don’t you fucking start there! This has been going on long before this mission! Ever since we met in Charles’ office. Why?! What did I ever do to you?!”

“We’re not talking about that! We’re talking about-”

“Like fuck we’re not talking about that! This is the whole basis of the issue between us! Fucking tell me!”

“NO!”

“Fucking tell me right now! Why do you care that I went up against Pyro? Huh? Why?!”

“Because I couldn’t lose you again!”

The silence that followed this statement was nothing you had experienced before. What did he say? Lose you again? It didn’t make any sense.

“Shit,” Cable muttered from the pilot’s seat. “We’re back.”

Your eyes were now locked on Logan. It would be a cold day in hell before you let him out of your sight. Not until he explained. The hanger doors couldn’t be opened as students were using the court, so Cable was forced to park on the lawn nearby. Logan tried to make a break for it the moment the jet door opened, but you used your powers. Water from the lake just outside the school came rushing up and forcing Logan back onto the jet.

“Talk to me! Don’t you fucking be a coward now!”

That was the keyword. Logan was in your face in an instant. “How can I not be afraid? I’ve seen you die over and over, every few decades! How can I not be scared to get close again?”

“What- what are you talking about?”

Logan took a deep breath. “Every few decades I meet someone and fall in love with them. And every time I lose them. And they all, every single one of them, look like you. That’s why I couldn’t get close. I can’t do it again. I can’t watch you die again.”

Chapter 4

Tagging Crew

Everything:

@marvelfansworld​

@that-chick212​

@keetnerj01​​

Avoidance:

@anonymousswritings​

@stuckysdaughter

#avoidance #logan howlett x gn!reader #logan x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #wolverine #angst

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

MARVEL

Warnings = **

x teen!reader / x child!reader / x daughter!reader / x gn!reader / x reader / x sibling!reader

I don’t own Marvel or any of the characters in Marvel , I only own the imagines that I have created in tumblr or wattpad.

Main masterlist

MCU CHARACTERS

IMAGINE

Pizza & Cuddles ** - Kate Bishop x reader: You blind in one eye and Kate helps you get by

Family Reunion ** - Baron Zemo x teen!reader, Sam Wilson x teen!reader, Bucky Barnes x teen!reader: Zemo si your father and you have a bad relationship with him after what he did in CACW and he’s trying to fix your relationship (coming soon)

B-u-c-k-y? Bucky ** - father!Bucky Barnes x child!reader: The beginning of your relationship with your father and a glimpse at the progress

SERIES

Lead Me Home ** - Steve Rogers x sibling!reader, Bucky Barnes x Rogers!teen!reader, Sam Wilson x Rogers!teen!reader: you are Steve Rogers little sibling and Hydra kidnapped you after Steve disappeared, no one except Hydra knew what happened to you until today (coming soon)

HEADCANNON

Dating Kate Bishop Would Include ** - Kate Bishop x reader: what I imagine it would be like to date Kate Bishop

Dating Yelena Belova Would Include ** - Yelena Belova x reader: what I imagine it would be like to date Yelena Belova (coming soon)

Tony Stark as a Father ** - Tony Stark x teen!reader: what I imagine it would be like if Tony Stark was your father

Steve Rogers as a Father ** - Steve Rogers x teen!reader: what I imagine it would be like if Steve was your father

Being Star Lord’s daughter** - Peter Quill x daughter!reader: what it would be like to be Peter Quills daughter

Being Marc Spector’s sibling** - Marc Spector x teen!reader, (Steven Grant x teen!reader, Konshu x teen!reader, Jake Lockley x teen!reader): what I think it would be like to be Marc’s little sibling

X-MEN CHARACTERS

IMAGINE

SERIES

HEADCANNON

Being Logan’s daughter ** - Logan Howlett x daughter!reader: what I imagine it would be like to be Logan’s daughter

Being Logan’s ftm son **- Logan Howlett x ftm!son!reader: what it would be like if you were Logan’s ftm son

Being Deadpool’s daughter would include ** - Wade Wilson/Deadpool x teen!daughter!reader: what it would be like to be Deadpool’s daughter (coming soon)

DAREDEVIL • PUNISHER • VENOM • WEREWOLF BY NIGHT • SPIDER-VERSE

IMAGINE

Coffee Talks** - Frank Castle x teen!reader: you met Frank a while back at your fave coffee shop and since then you two have met up each weak to talk, only this time it’s not only Frank who has bruises all over his face

Birthday Special- Matt Murdock x teen!reader: it’s your birthday and Matt is the only one who knows how you really want to celebrate your birthday

Nonexistent Eating Patterns** - Matt Murdock x teen!reader: you haven’t been eating sleeping or drinking as you should and Matt is there to help

SERIES

Little Murder ** - Billy Russo x teen!reader: you try to get into Anvil so that you can learn how to protect yourself against your abusive parents, and in doing so you made Russo interested into why a teenager that’s too young to join the army wants to join Anvil which is made for ex-military to get a job, and eventually he finds out about your family situation. (Coming soon)

HEADCANNON

Being Eddie Brock’s daughter would include ** - Eddie Brock x teen!daughter!reader, Venom x teen!reader, Anne Weying x teen!daughter!reader: what I would be like to be Eddie Brock and Anne Weying’s daughter (coming soon)

Daredevil’s teen sidekick ** - Matt Murdock x teen!reader: what it would be like to be daredevil’s sidekick (coming soon)

Jack Russell adopting a child ** - Jack Russell x child!reader: Jack finds a child and decides to take care of it

Venom **- father Miguel O’Hara x teen!venom!reader: being Miguel O’Hara’s child while also being Venom/Spider-Man

MCU CAST

IMAGINE

You Okay Darling? ** - Tom Hiddleston x teen!reader: Tom helping you after a fight with your parents

SERIES

HEADCANNON

A Dream Come True - Jake Gyllenhaal x teen!reader: you persuade Jake to go to an amusement park

Tree House - Jake Gyllenhaal x child!reader: Jake building a tree house for you while in quarantine

Surprise - Jake Gyllenhaal x teen!reader: Jake (your father) gets surprised when he sees that you had taken home two dogs

#mcu x reader #x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #jake gyllenhaal x teen #x you #mcu #captain america x reader #tom holland x reader #tom hiddleston x teen!reader #x-men #daredevil x reader #frank castle x reader #chris evans x daughter!reader #sebastian stan x teen!reader #loki x teen!reader #steve rogers x teen reader #deadpool x reader #peter parker x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #baron zemo x daughter!reader #mcu cast x reader #benedict cumberbatch x teen!reader #venom x reader #eddie brock x teen!reader #magneto x teen!reader #logan howlett x teen #anthony mackie x teen!reader